We have the career. We have the position. We have the experience. We may have worked incredibly hard to get where we are. People may genuinely admire what we have achieved. So we tell that niggling internal voice to be grateful and carry on.

I think we introverts can be particularly good at this because we can spend an extraordinary amount of time in our own heads, making sense of things, finding the reasonable explanation and giving everybody else the benefit of the doubt. We can adapt. We can accommodate. We can become the master of disguise when we need to secure our quiet space.

And all the while, something may be niggling away relentlessly.

I’ve come to realise that success is one of those words we use rather freely, even though we can mean completely different things by it. I think we all have our own definitions which feels right. For some it is about money and material possessions. For others, success comes through power, usually over people and resources. And for yet more, it’s something far more wholesome. A peaceful life well lived. The creation of a positive legacy left in people. A reputation of kindness.

For me, success has become increasingly connected to my values, to taking responsibility for what matters to me and to doing work that leaves me feeling fulfilled. And a large part of my fulfilment is doing things that make a positive difference to others. Even if that is only my small corner of humanity. That has taken some working out, because there are plenty of messages around us telling us what successful people look like and what successful people should want next. More responsibility. More recognition. More influence. More of whatever it is that demonstrates that we are progressing nicely.

By whose standards I am left wondering.

And progress can become a very seductive thing.

We can keep moving forwards because that is what successful people do, without stopping to ask ourselves where exactly we are heading.

That’s where frustration often bubbles up.

I don’t think frustration automatically means that something has gone wrong. Sometimes it is the bit of us that has noticed something important before the rest of us has caught up. It might be telling us that an old ambition has run its course. It might be pointing towards something we have been putting off. It might be reminding us that a value we hold dear has somehow been squeezed out of the life we have built.

Or it might simply be telling us that we are ready to take responsibility for defining success for ourselves.

That takes a little courage. It does not demand that we storm into a room, bang our fist on the table and announce that things are going to change, not something we introverts do. And it has never struck me as a particularly useful version of bravery.

Often for us courage is much quieter. Sometimes it is sitting with the uncomfortable truth that you have achieved something you once wanted and still aren’t fulfilled. Sometimes it is admitting that the thing everyone else considers evidence of your success isn’t the thing that matters most to you anymore.

And at other times it is deciding that you are going to do something about it.

So if you are successful and still frustrated, perhaps give that frustration a little more attention.

What is it trying to tell you?

What have you achieved that genuinely matters to you?

And where have you become so good at coping, adapting or getting on with it that you have stopped asking yourself whether this is still how you want to live and work?

Those questions may lead somewhere rather interesting.

Because flourishing, for me, has a great deal to do with living intentionally and making choices that are aligned with who I am, what I value and what I want to contribute.

And perhaps becoming braver starts in exactly that place: being willing to admit that something needs your attention, even when everything on the outside suggests you are doing just fine.