Will it ever be enough?

Typically people do a year in review or perhaps a six-month check-in, but my thoughts are bursting so we'll have to settle for five.

And boy, the past five months have been action-packed for me—one might even say career-defining. I led a brilliant design team to launch Canva AI into the world, presented it on stage to millions of people, and even won an award for Women Leading Tech. I'm feeling the most secure I've ever felt in my home life. I love my husband so much that I miss him when I go to the office. I have two wonderful cats with the best personalities, and I'm slowly but surely getting all my paperwork done for my PR in Australia (at least it's lodged so I won't get kicked out anytime soon!). My friends are the most talented, interesting and warm people I know, who help comfort and challenge me in the best ways possible.

And yet, it doesn't feel like enough. I want more.

I know you're reading this going "girl, what the fuck." I know, y'all, I know. You don't think I know? From the outside looking in, it looks like I've accomplished a lot—shouldn't I bask in it for a bit? If anything, the gap between what I have and what I feel should satisfy me keeps widening.

The advice a high achiever gets in these scenarios is to practise gratitude, to be present and take stock of accomplishments. The cosmic hilarity is that I do. Alhamdulillah, my life is wonderful. I'm most grateful for this gift of perseverance that helps me work hard through any problems and an unending curiosity that always makes me want to learn more. Despite what I think are my best qualities, I often wonder if they're overshadowed by the constant feeling of never being satisfied. It's never enough. I want more.

After I presented at Canva Create, I went backstage where the rest of my colleagues and leaders were watching. Everyone was congratulatory and spirits were high. People were so excited that we were overloaded and needed to write some emergency messaging about being too popular. Truly everything I wanted after a slight niggling worry that no one would enjoy the hard work of our product. A month later, Andrew, our Head of Design, pointed out I didn't have the glow of satisfaction, the relief that the event was over, that I had accomplished something significant. Instead, my face was stern, almost searching. In truth, I did celebrate three times: once in my head, once with my best friend and very briefly during a Lady Gaga Coachella watch party (obviously Lady Gaga was more important). When I thought about it, I told him: "I think I was just ready for the next thing.”

That pattern defines my life. I strive, I accomplish or pivot or decide it's not worth it, then rinse and repeat. I wondered if I was addicted to stress at one point, but I don't think that's it. I want to strive towards something, anything. While my ambitions are large, what I strive towards doesn't have to be. I feel that sense of accomplishment from everything: my garden growing nicely, cooking a recipe by memory the second time, remembering to bring my keys after locking up the house.

In the last five months, I strived for something bigger than I could ever have imagined. I did it.

So now I'm in that state of what is next?

This is where my mind whirls. I'm a perfectionist, so somehow I feel I need to have the best and biggest plan and execute it perfectly on the first try. I gnaw and chew on problems in my head day and night, paralysed by starting anything and consequently feeling like shit when I've accomplished nothing. I've been swirling, searching for the perfect answer: what's that next big thing for me to strive towards? The truth is, it’s probably not one thing, but several.

What I'm Striving Towards

I want to be a better writer. I love speaking and being off the cuff—it's where I naturally flow. I'll say yes to any speaking or podcast event and I still will. But speaking can only reach so many people. I want to expand beyond that, find some way to get my inner world on paper in a way my mouth won't filter. While I work in design and AI, I actually don't want to write about that—I prefer doing, building and tinkering there. So what do I have left to write about but my own thoughts and experiences, which is painfully vulnerable and embarrassing for me. I want to get over that. In a small way, I'd love to make money from this. In a bigger way, if my writing helps someone, changes their course of action for the better, I'll be happy.

I want a better connection with my body. My posture is dogshit, y'all. Absolutely terrible from years of loving being on the computer and sitting in pretzel positions. I'm also a half-assed athlete—years of running and weight training that I don't really enjoy doing. But I want to feel better when I wake up in the morning and have soreness related to hard work, not appearing out of nowhere. A yoga and Pilates studio recently opened near my house and I'm determined to attend any class three to four times a week. I want to feel that connection and strength in my day-to-day life.

I want to be a better person in my relationships. I'm terrible at texting back or replying. In fact, seeing a full inbox gives me enough anxiety that I don't open it. I want to be there for my husband, my friends, my family and my colleagues in the same way they are for me. I want to be a better leader and tackle any problem that comes my way. I want to keep my empathy and compassion while also speaking my mind. I want to give my full, red-blooded support so any of my relationships know they can always count on me for anything.

I want to give back to the world in some way. While I donate to charities and causes, I wonder if I could do more. Yesterday, I had a call with Anna Grace, the founder of The Orbispace Initiative, to discuss speaking at a potential event. This is an amazing organisation and the ask was so simple: could I give a bit of my time to talk about myself and my work to eighth graders—girls looking for stories and mentors in STEAM fields? My mind was racing with meetings, work, deadlines when I had an aha moment that left me teary for the rest of the call: why was my everyday work more important than these girls' futures? It wasn't. Young people are our future. They hold the keys to the evolution of our nations and planet, and they're entering a very scary and tumultuous world. Their time is more valuable.

———

Anyways, all of this writing feels terribly vulnerable. I'll publish this, share it on social media and regret it for days. But this is part of the process, this is what I'm striving towards, and I hope you'll come along for the ride.

✌️ CJ