The Price of Success

I Was Brought Up to Believe That Success Is the Most Important Goal in Life

I was raised in an environment where success was believed to be the most important goal in life. From childhood onward, I focused solely on achieving success, completing my primary and secondary education with certificates of appreciation. After graduating with honors from one of Turkey’s best universities, I completed my master’s degree abroad on a scholarship and began my career at a multinational global company in the United States.

I realized that the ambition for success, which had dominated my childhood, was stealing my youth as well, yet I couldn’t hold myself back. As I rapidly climbed the corporate ladder, I desired even more. Every success I achieved didn’t satisfy me; instead, it fueled my hunger, driving me to work even harder. In a short time, I found myself the subject of envious and jealous glances, but I eventually managed to secure a seat among the company’s executives. Skilled executives who understood how to harness ambition began sending me on intercontinental marathons under the guise of awards. So often, I would fall asleep on planes, waking up and having to ask others which country and time it was. I came to consider rest as a luxury, counting meetings on luxury cruise ships as vacations.

By the time I was promoted to the role of China Regional Director, I reached middle age, and my body and mind began signaling that I needed to take care of myself. But my ambition for success had blinded me so much that I stubbornly refused to heed these warnings.

One evening, after a business dinner with Chinese clients and bureaucrats, I was drinking tea with an elderly executive whom all the Chinese attendees respectfully bowed to in the salon. He spoke of my successes with praise. Then, he wisely smiled and said, “The most valuable success in life is to stay healthy. You must reward your body and soul.” I felt the business cards in the inner pocket of my jacket trembling. My heart was pounding, as if it were saying, “Your reward is me.” At such a young age, I had risen to be the head of a multinational company’s China division. Could there be a greater reward than this?

That night, as I lay in bed, I again felt those heartbeats in my chest. I placed my hand over my chest. My heart was racing wildly, and I struggled to breathe. Despite the weight pressing on my chest, I summoned my last strength to call the reception.

When I opened my eyes, I tried to figure out which country and which hotel I was in. With horror, I realized I was not in a hotel room but in a hospital bed. My heart had succumbed to my ambition.

About a week later, I found myself in the city where I was born—a place I hadn’t visited since high school. Once again, I was in a hotel room, far from the sounds of beeping machines and business cards. There, accompanied only by the gentle sounds of dripping water from a fountain, I immersed myself in thermal waters that rejuvenated my body. The elderly Chinese man’s words echoed in my mind:

“The most valuable success in life is to stay healthy. You must reward your body and soul.”

Now, I am enjoying my greatest success, rewarding myself for the first time.

Thank you, my Chinese friend, thank you, my dear body, and thank you, Oruçoğlu.