My daughter was stacking blocks on the kitchen floor this morning, and she kept looking up at me between each one, not for praise exactly, just to check if I was still there. Still with her. I wasn’t typing, wasn’t scrolling, wasn’t mentally drafting the next thing, I was just, there. And I watched her shoulders drop a little each time our eyes met, like she was settling deeper into being herself.

That’s when it hit me, again, for maybe the hundredth time since she was born: we’ve been measuring success all wrong.

Because the person I was five years ago would’ve called that morning “unproductive.” No output, no wins, no box checked. But something happened in that kitchen that no spreadsheet could capture, and I think about it more than I care to admit.

The metric that actually matters

Think about the most successful person you know. Not the richest or most accomplished, but the one whose life you’d actually want to live.

I’d bet money they’re not the person with the biggest house or the most LinkedIn endorsements. They’re probably the person whose company makes you feel more like yourself.

Gilbert Brim, a psychologist who directed the MacArthur Foundation Research Network on Successful Mid-Life Development, argued that “Success is not an objective measure but a subjective one, the director of the MacArthur Foundation Research Network on Successful Mid-Life Development argued in the book, and was thus something that should be reevaluated on an ongoing basis.”

This got me thinking: what if the ultimate measure of success isn’t what we’ve built for ourselves, but what we’ve helped others become?

Why relationships are the real wealth

You know what’s wild? We spend decades chasing external markers of success while the research keeps pointing us in a completely different direction.

Rahul Bhandari, a psychologist, notes that “The longest-ever study on happiness has thrown the spotlight on one primary ingredient—close relationships.”

Let that sink in for a moment.

Not money. Not achievements. Not Instagram followers. Relationships.

Look, I’ve learned this the hard way. There was a time I thought being right mattered more than being connected, and I’d win arguments the way Harvey Specter wins cases, clean, surgical, everyone knowing I was right, and then I’d look up and realize nobody wanted to sit next to me anymore. These days, especially with my wife, I’ve figured out that listening beats having the right answer almost every time. The cultural and language differences in our relationship have actually been a gift, they’ve forced me to slow down, really listen, and understand that connection happens in the space between words, in the pauses, in the part where you don’t jump in to correct or clarify or prove anything. I still mess it up. Probably more than I realize. But I notice it faster now, which I think is the whole game.

The authenticity effect

Here’s something I’ve noticed: the people who make others feel most comfortable being themselves are usually the ones most comfortable in their own skin.

Research published in PMC indicates that individuals with greater self-knowledge tend to have better interpersonal relationships, as they are more attuned to their own behaviors and how they affect others.

This creates a powerful ripple effect. When you show up as yourself, you give others permission to do the same.

I experienced this firsthand when writing my book, Hidden Secrets of Buddhism: How To Live With Maximum Impact and Minimum Ego. The process of stripping away ego and getting real about my own struggles made my relationships deeper and more authentic.

When you drop the mask, something magical happens. People stop performing around you. They start being real.

Creating space for others to grow

Theodore Roosevelt once said, “The most important single ingredient in the formula of success is knowing how to get along with people.”

But here’s what Roosevelt didn’t mention: getting along with people isn’t about being likeable. It’s about creating space where others can be themselves.

Honestly, think about the best boss you ever had. Were they the one who knew everything? Or were they the one who asked great questions and made you feel capable of figuring things out yourself?

The same principle applies to all relationships. Whether it’s with your partner, your kids, or your friends, success isn’t measured by how much you can teach them or fix for them. It’s measured by how much they grow simply by being around you.

The compound interest of connection

What fascinates me about relationship quality is how it compounds over time.

Studies suggest that the quality of personal relationships, characterized by mutual understanding and authenticity, contributes significantly to an individual’s sense of self and overall well-being.

This creates a feedback loop. Better relationships lead to stronger self-esteem, which leads to better relationships. It’s like compound interest for your soul.

Since prioritizing presence over productivity, especially with my family, everything else has gotten easier. Work feels less like a grind, creative ideas flow more naturally, even challenges feel more manageable when you know you’ve got people in your corner who see and accept the real you. Quality time beats quantity every single time. An hour of genuine presence is worth more than a whole day of distracted togetherness.

The courage to be imperfect

You want to know the biggest barrier to making people feel comfortable around you? Trying to be perfect.

When you pretend to have it all together, you create distance. People feel like they need to match your supposed perfection, and suddenly everyone’s performing instead of connecting.

Dr. Leslie Becker-Phelps, a clinical psychologist, puts it beautifully: “In the end, success is best measured by an internal barometer. You are achieving genuine success when you can look around and say, I have achieved my goals and feel good about how I am living my life.”

The key phrase there? “Feel good about how I am living my life.” Not what you’ve achieved, but how you’re showing up.

Since becoming a father, this has taken on new meaning. My daughter doesn’t care about my accomplishments. She cares about whether I’m present, whether I’m real, whether I create a safe space for her to explore who she is.

The ultimate success metric

So here’s my challenge to you: for the next week, pay attention to how people feel after spending time with you.

Do they seem energized or drained?
More themselves or less?
More confident or more insecure?

This isn’t about people-pleasing or making everyone happy. Some people might feel uncomfortable around you because you challenge them to grow, and that’s okay. The question is whether you’re helping them become more of who they really are, not who they think they should be.

The concepts I explore in Hidden Secrets of Buddhism: How To Live With Maximum Impact and Minimum Ego keep coming back to this central truth: the less you make it about you, the more impact you have.

Conclusion

Look, I get it. The world tells us success means climbing ladders, breaking records, and accumulating achievements. But psychology, research, and lived experience all point to a different truth.

Real success isn’t measured in what you’ve gathered for yourself. It’s measured in whether the people who matter most feel more alive, more authentic, more themselves because you’re in their life.

I’m still figuring out what that looks like most days, honestly.

But I think about my daughter on the kitchen floor this morning, checking to see if I was still there, and I think, okay, that. That’s the thing. Not the article I’ll write about it later, not the insight I’ll try to package, just the looking up, the being seen, the quiet little nod that says yeah, I’m here, keep stacking.

The rest, I’m still working out.