Over the past six months, while I’ve been looking for my next role, one theme has surfaced over and over again:
What do I actually want out of life?
Not what I should want.
Not what looks good on paper.
Not what pays the most or sounds the most impressive.
What do I want?
I think this question starts showing up once you reach a certain point, financially, emotionally, mentally, professionally, or simply with age. You’ve achieved enough to know that achievement alone isn’t the answer.
For me, this introspection has been amplified by something I haven’t experienced in a long time:
unstructured time.
I’m not currently employed in the traditional sense and that creates space. Uncomfortable space. Quiet space. Thinking space.
And just to be clear, I am working.
I’m raising my children. Making lunches. Managing carpools. Doing laundry. Handling the day-to-day work that keeps a household moving.
It’s work I never pictured myself doing full-time. It’s work I now deeply respect.
I love being a parent. I love being present. But I’ve always seen myself as a provider someone who creates stability through meaningful work and a strong career.
My wife has a great job and does incredibly well. We intentionally chose to be a two-income family. We wanted to show our kids what was possible. That both parents could build careers and still create a great childhood.
And they’ve had that.
They’ve had incredible caregivers. An amazing nanny. Preschool and school from a young age. Larger experiences than either of us had growing up, financially, socially, and experientially.
In many ways, they’ve had more than we did. Sometimes even too much.
Which is exactly why defining success matters to me now.
I’ve never been driven solely by money. It was never the end goal. If I’m honest, I think I’ve always been addicted to motion, constant forward movement.
Even as a kid, the shiny gold star, the good grade, the pat on the back felt… empty.
I studied hard. I performed well. And afterwards I thought:
That’s it?
I gave up time. Energy. Other experiences, for this?
I feel similarly about work at times.
I genuinely love work. I love customers. I love problem-solving. I love building teams and systems that scale. What never resonated with me was the idea that success equals chasing the biggest number possible.
That’s not the life I want.
What I’m realizing now is that I want to live like a modern renaissance man: someone with many interests, skills, and areas of growth.
I want to learn for the sake of learning.
Build for the sake of building.
Explore for the sake of understanding the world better.
I want a complete life, one filled with experiences, curiosity, meaningful work, relationships, leadership, and adventure.
At the end of my life, I don’t want someone to summarize me by a title or a compensation band.
I want them to say:
Rob was versatile.
He did a lot.
He lived fully.
He loved life.
He was a great husband. A great father. A dependable friend. If you needed him, he showed up.
There’s no money requirement attached to any of that.
Just actions. Choices. And presence.
And that, finally, feels like a definition of success that actually matters.
Also to update this in Late January 2026, I started a new role. Onward and upward. Keep Moving Forward.
Robert Statsky 