Chasing Shadows

Mira had spent her whole life believing in the power of persistence.

She had grown up surrounded by stories of people who refused to give up – painters who lived in poverty until they finally got their big break, writers who collected hundreds of rejection letters before publishing bestsellers, and inventors who failed a thousand times before changing the world.

So when her own journey as an artist proved difficult, she told herself it was just part of the process.

She saw every rejection, every failed attempt, and every closed door as tests of her resilience. She had to keep going because what if she were to give up right before everything was about to work out?

And so, she chased.

For years, she worked tirelessly, balancing freelance gigs that barely paid, entering every contest she could find, and networking at gallery openings, hoping that one day someone would see her talent and give her a chance. She invested in better supplies, took more courses, and stayed up late refining her technique, believing that if she just worked harder, her time would come.

But no matter how hard she tried, the dream never got any closer. It was always one step ahead, dangling just out of reach.

First, her friends started moving on – starting families, building careers, and settling into lives that made them happy. But Mira remained frozen in place, unable to let go of the belief that if she just kept pushing, something would change.

Then, everything shifted on an ordinary Wednesday evening.

She had been meeting her friend Priya for coffee, expecting the usual conversations about life, work, and the struggle of chasing creative careers. But Priya had a different energy that day. She was beaming, excitedly telling Mira about a new class she had taken, something completely unrelated to the career she once pursued.

“I just realized,” Priya said, stirring her latte, “that I was chasing something that wasn’t chasing me back.”

Mira froze. The words struck something deep inside her, something she had been afraid to acknowledge.

“What do you mean?” she asked, forcing a casual tone.

Priya sighed. “I spent years trying to make my music career work because I didn’t want to feel like I wasted my time. But the truth is… I wasn’t happy. I was just afraid to admit that I needed to let it go.”

Mira nodded slowly, but inside, her mind was racing.

That night, she went home and sat in front of a blank canvas. She picked up a brush, waiting for inspiration to come but it didn’t.

For the first time, she wondered: Am I still doing this because I love it? Or am I just afraid to stop?

The thought unsettled her.

Still, she shook it off, convincing herself that she was just tired or just burned out. She decided to clear her mind by joining Priya at a lecture she was attending the next evening. It was something about neuroscience – far from anything Mira usually cared about – but she figured a change of scenery wouldn’t hurt.

She never expected it to change her life.

The speaker was a professor discussing something called, “The Sunk Cost Fallacy” – the idea that people keep investing in things, not because they are working, but because they’ve already put so much into them.

Mira listened, stunned, as he explained how our brains are wired to fear loss more than they value gain. How the more time, effort, or resources we pour into something, the harder it becomes to walk away – even when it no longer serves us. Even when it’s actively making us miserable.

She thought about the years she had spent chasing her dream, despite all the signs that it wasn’t working. Was she actually pursuing success, or was she just afraid to admit that she had already lost too much to turn back?

Then, the professor went on to explain another concept: goal misalignment.

“We set goals based on who we were when we first dreamed them,” he said, “but we rarely stop to ask ourselves if they still fit who we are today.”

Mira’s stomach twisted.

She had wanted to be a famous artist since she was a teenager. Back then, it had seemed like the only thing that could make her happy. But was it still?

She thought about the constant stress, the never-ending cycle of rejection, the way she measured her worth by whether or not she was ‘making it.’ Had she ever truly paused to ask herself if this was still what she wanted?

Or had she just been too afraid to let go?

That night, Mira sat in front of her blank canvas again. But this time, she didn’t pick up a brush.

She just stared at it, feeling the weight of everything she had been holding onto.

She thought about the art competitions, the sleepless nights, the way she kept telling herself, “Just one more year…just one more try.”

And then she thought about what she had missed while chasing this dream.

The vacations she never took. The relationships she let fade. The sheer amount of time she had spent waiting- waiting for success, waiting for the moment when all the struggle would finally be worth it.

But what if it never came?

And what if… that was okay?

Mira exhaled slowly.

For the first time, she considered another possibility: Maybe letting go wasn’t failure. Maybe it was growth.

Over the next few months, she made a radical shift. She stopped painting for approval and started creating for herself. She took a job teaching art therapy, where she found more fulfillment in helping others than she ever had in chasing success. She travelled, met new people, and allowed herself to explore other passions she had ignored for so long.

Then something incredible happened. The more Mira let go of the need to succeed in the way she had once imagined, the lighter she felt. It wasn’t an overnight transformation. Some days she still questioned whether she had made the right choice, but as time passed, she realized something profound – she was no longer defined by the chase.

She found joy in the small things – teaching art to children who painted with pure, unburdened excitement, travelling to places she had always put off visiting, and rekindling friendships she had neglected in her pursuit of success. Life no longer felt like a waiting game, always hinging on one more chance or one more opportunity. It simply was; and for the first time, that was enough.

Mira hadn’t failed. She had simply grown beyond the dream that had once consumed her. And in doing so, she had discovered something even greater. She found the kind of happiness that comes not from reaching a destination, but from embracing the journey itself. Mira was no longer chasing. She was finally living.