The Descent of Success

Everyone Talks About the Climb. But We Need to Talk About the Descent.

We’re constantly fed messages about “leveling up”— a bigger house, a better car, a flashier title, more visibility, more shine. But almost no one talks about the other side of growth— The lateral moves. The steps down. The seasons of less.

No one prepares you for going from a spacious house to a smaller one. From a luxury car to no car. From a title that impresses people to one that doesn’t raise eyebrows. From financial comfort to financial strain. And because we don’t talk about it, when it happens, it’s easy to feel like we’ve failed, to question our worth, and to grieve quietly ashamed of not “advancing.”

Everyone has a story. This is my story.

Years ago, I accepted a job that paid five figures less than what I’d been making. It was a tough adjustment, but I accepted it because I believed in the opportunity—and for a while, that belief proved right. Then the organization changed dramatically. I interviewed broadly but nothing felt aligned. So, I paused and reassessed. I eventually took a job that aligned with my interests, but it paid me six figures less than what I once earned. Six. Figures. Less.

I knew it was drastic. So drastic, I couldn’t even bring myself to do the math at first. But when I finally did, it hurt more than I expected. Still, I showed up. I worked hard. The role wasn’t difficult given my background. And while it didn’t come with prestige or shine, it came with something else: peace. The lower stakes gave me room to breathe, think, and be.

And here’s the thing—those are not “valley-only” gifts. The mental clarity, strategic pause, and renewed sense of purpose that emerged in that quieter season—I want to hold onto them, even as life speeds back up. Because sometimes we find the truest parts of ourselves in the stillness. And too often, we forget them once we’re back in motion.

But what if we didn’t? What if we carried the slowness with us? What if we carried that slower, more intentional way of moving with us—not just when we’re achieving, but when we’re simply being? The valley teaches you how to breathe, but the real mastery is carrying that grounded breath to the mountaintop.

I’m learning to normalize the valleys and to honor them the same way we honor the peaks. That’s not easy in a world that rewards polish, that praises the “after” photo, the comeback story with a clean conclusion. Especially on platforms like LinkedIn or Instagram, it’s tempting to present our best days only.

In fact, this may be one of the most difficult pieces I’ve written—not because the message isn’t clear, but because I’m resisting the urge to tie it up with a neat bow. My ego wants to show you how I "won" in the end—that there was an ultimate glow up that made the sacrifice worth it. But doing that would defeat the very heart of this message—which is to normalize the valley, not just the victory.

After two decades in corporate America, it has become clear to me that not every chapter is about elevation. Sometimes you move sideways. Sometimes you move down. Sometimes you stay still. That doesn’t make you any less valuable, and that doesn’t mean you’ve failed. In fact, what looks like a descent may actually be a realignment—an intentional pivot toward deeper alignment and purpose. 

And the truth is that the valley is where grit is formed. It’s in the still, uncertain moments that we learn what we’re truly made of. Not when things are easy—but when they’re not. Not when the path is clear—but when we walk forward anyway. The valley strips away pretense and it tests our resolve. It also reveals the quiet strength we didn’t know we had. The perseverance. The humility. The depth. The muscle of resilience that doesn’t look glamorous—but is deeply powerful.

These moments don’t just happen to us—they shape us. They carve something into us that no résumé bullet point ever could. And when you emerge from that space, you don’t just know what you can do—you know who you are.

Funny enough, we often talk about the “glow up” in an effort to inspire people, but the truth is: what inspires people most isn’t the tidy ending—it’s the raw, uncertain middle. It’s the part where you kept showing up even when you weren’t sure what was ahead. True strength is not about how high you climbed. It’s about how you kept walking when the road was unclear. That’s the part we try to hide but that’s the part that shines.

What anchored me through it all? It was this: I’ve never grounded my self-worth in things someone else can take away—not a job, not a title, not applause, not approval. And I had to remind myself of that often because when your income drops, when your title shifts, when your visibility fades, it’s easy to feel like you’re shrinking too. But I’ve always made a conscious effort to root myself in deeper things: in my faith, in my values, and in my voice. I’ve focused on the impact I want to make, the way I treat people, my desire to honor my ancestors, and the legacy I want to leave behind.

That foundation has carried me through every unexpected turn—including job changes, critical feedback, and even moments when I was no longer in favor with someone in power. My foundation reminds me that I am still whole, even when the external metrics suggested “less.”

And in that quieter season, I discovered something else: there is a gift in the margin. With less noise and fewer distractions, I finally had the space to reflect. I was able to ask different questions, to build new rhythms, and to reconnect—with myself, with my people, and with my creativity. The stillness wasn’t empty. It was an invitation.

So I ask you gently, and sincerely: What is your self-worth grounded in? If it’s rooted in titles, roles, or paychecks, what happens when those things shift? What’s left when the outer layers fall away?

If you’re in a season of descent or pause, here’s what I want you to remember:

• You are not behind. Life is not a race or a checklist. It’s a journey of alignment.

• Your worth is not tied to your income, your title, or your résumé. Full stop. 💡

• Rest and redirection are not wasted time. Sometimes they are the most important work.

Practical Steps for This Season:

1. Reframe the narrative. Instead of “I lost,” try: “I made space for something different.”

2. Audit your values. What do you actually want right now—peace, clarity, healing, freedom? Let that guide you.

3. Define success on your own terms. Not based on applause, but alignment.

4. Build new rhythms. Use the margin in your life to reconnect—with yourself, your people, your creativity.

5. Talk about it. Share your story. Normalize the unglamorous seasons. You’re not alone, and someone else needs to hear that too.

Growth isn’t always vertical. Sometimes, it looks like standing still, catching your breath, and honoring the moment you’re in.

And that, too, is progress.

#CareerGrowth #LeadershipJourney #AuthenticLeadership #RedefiningSuccess #ProfessionalDevelopment #CareerTransitions #Resilience #PurposeDriven