The Curse Of Being Driven [Essay Download]
An essay that explores why our drive often turns into suffering – and arrives at a new life philosophy for these restless times.
This is the start of a journey
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This is an intentional read (20 minutes) — best taken with a quiet moment, not squeezed in between emails.
What you’ll find in the essay
The Curse of Being Driven names what many ambitious people carry but rarely open up to: the hidden belief that our worth must be earned, that we must perform to be loved. What looks like strength is often the residue of unprocessed pain.
I write for those who, like me, are obsessed with progress and achievement – founders, builders, high achievers – yet live with an inner restlessness that no milestone seems to quiet.
What follows is a deep inquiry into the nature of drive. It is an attempt to understand what fuels us, and why it so often turns into suffering.
At the center lies one question: Can we live with extraordinary ambition without being ruled by it?
The essay explores:
How the sense of “not enough” is often formed in early childhood, even in caring households – explained by fundamentals of childhood psychology.
How the real source of suffering is a story that we’re obsessed with, as taught by Eastern philosophy and, surprisingly, explained by neuroscience.
How it is possible during peak experiences to find a new dimension of experience by detaching from the obsessive nature of our minds.
How we can rewire our minds for a new approach to life, by using the momentum of such peak experiences.
Lucid Living: A new perspective
Out of my own search grew a perspective I call Lucid Living. It is not about abandoning ambition or withdrawing from responsibility. It is about engaging differently with life’s intensity – whether that’s a fundraising crisis, a failing relationship, or a painful goodbye. Lucid Living suggests that breakdowns can become breakthroughs, and that the weight of our commitments can be the path into meaning and peace rather than threat.
What comes next
This is only the beginning. In the months ahead, I’ll share:
Concrete tools, experiences and frameworks for founders and highly ambitious people – how I apply Lucid Living as a startup CEO.
Childhood and generational trauma – how even the most loving households pass on invisible “programs” that define how we go through life as adults.
The science-backed promise of psychedelics – why and how they may become a cornerstone of mental health treatment.
The role of faith and spirituality – what secular spiritual experiences taught me about the divine, and its potential contribution to the growing mental health epidemic.
The meaning crisis of the Western society — why we lack orientation, and how a virtue-based value system may help us re-connect with each other.
Join the project
The essay is not a conclusion. It’s the beginning of a journey toward living ambitiously, but lucidly.
It means I don’t carry the arrogance of thinking I own the place, but I also don’t feel small or intimidated by those who might. I just move through life with ease — confident, grounded, and unaffected by who holds power or status around me.
When we first met and you shared your vision, it resonated deeply. I lost someone close to breast cancer, and I know the quiet around it, the way changes that look “firm” or “dark,” or simply like aging, can feel too unseemly to name. Working in this space, I also know how hard it is to raise funds when the work looks more like a mission to save lives than a blitzscaling startup. Founders can wonder, “Am I a good entrepreneur?” I’ll admit my first comment was just on your post, I planned to read the essay over the weekend and only just finished it. I’m grateful I did; it’s brave, honest, and important.
As someone who’s built a few companies, I felt this in my bones. Each startup brings the same anxiety and emotional intensity. You drift from the mission sometimes; you wonder if this path earns a few thousand more not millions and you still keep going, evolving, believing.
What made the difference for me wasn’t grit alone, it was my people.
I’ve been lucky to work with teammates (and, when they weren’t on my payroll, mentors) who cared more about my well-being than their quick money, and were married to the mission and cause not the optics. They held my feet to the ground when my ego wanted to sprint, and they pulled me to the surface when I was drowning. If I didn’t have them in my team, I had them as mentors and that saved me more than any term sheet ever did.
In the hardest stretches, I keep four beliefs close:
-> If you get what you want, that’s God's direction. If you don’t, that’s God's protection.
-> Not all lives carry the same loads, but every life is unique—you’re walking a path only you can fulfill.
-> Nothing you do—big or small—goes to waste. It teaches you and readies you for bigger things. You’re in the becoming.
-> Don’t walk the road as if you own it; walk as if it doesn’t matter who does.
Founders talk a lot about hiring for talent; I’ve learned to choose for character. Find the ones who will call you out, keep you humble, and still show up at 2 a.m. with a steady hand. Surround yourself with people who hold you and the mission above the noise. That’s how you build something that lasts.
Thank you for sharing this.