We live in an influencer world. A 2023 U.S. survey of 1,000 Gen Z respondents found that 57 per cent said they’d like to be an influencer if the opportunity presented itself. We’ve become enamored with fame, and the easiest path to it may be the little digital device we carry in our pockets.
But there’s a bigger question worth asking: Would fame actually make us happy? Is the pursuit of influence a healthy form of purpose or a clever disguise for emptiness? I’ve wrestled with this question myself. Being a podcaster, blogger, and author offers a certain amount of visibility. Yet I’d be lying if I said I never daydream about more: being a New York Times best-selling author, appearing on my favorite morning shows, or hosting a podcast with millions of downloads. These are natural, even healthy, fantasies. But beneath them lies a more complicated truth about the human search for fulfillment.
Research tells a sobering story. A study by Edward Deci and colleagues at the University of Rochester followed 147 recent college graduates as they pursued various life goals. Those who set and achieved extrinsic goals—wealth, fame, or image—actually reported lower well-being one year later. The authors concluded, “Even though our culture puts a strong emphasis on attaining wealth and fame, pursuing these goals does not contribute to having a satisfying life.”
That finding feels counterintuitive. After all, wouldn’t recognition and success validate our worth? But understanding the difference between meaning and purpose helps explain why fame often feels hollow once attained. Meaning is how we make sense of our past—the story we tell ourselves about who we are and why our experiences matter. It’s largely reflective, rooted in how we interpret our history and decide whether we see ourselves as enough.
Purpose, on the other hand, lives in the present and future. It’s about action: what we do that lights us up and connects us to something larger than ourselves. Purpose doesn’t need to prove anything; it simply flows from a secure sense of self. Fame, however, can tempt us into confusing the two. When we lack meaning, when our internal story feels incomplete or unworthy, fame can look like the perfect solution. Once I’m famous, we think, I’ll finally feel good enough.
Unfortunately, that’s not how it works. If you don’t make peace with your past, no amount of achievement in the present will fill the gap. You can’t “purpose” your way to self-worth. The chase for external validation often leaves people worse off, even when they reach the top.
And if you don’t reach the fame you crave? The disappointment can cut even deeper. True happiness, it turns out, makes fame irrelevant.
Addressing our sense of meaning means coming to terms with our own story—seeing our best and worst moments as opportunities to learn rather than reasons to feel small. It’s about transforming victimhood into victory, and self-criticism into self-compassion.
Once meaning is secure, purpose becomes lighter, freer, more joyful. Purposeful activities like creating, connecting, and helping no longer serve as proof of worth but as expressions of it. They help us grow, deepen relationships, and contribute to others in ways that feel authentic and sustainable. For people who live this way, fame (if it comes at all) becomes a by-product of living a meaningful life—not the goal itself.
- Psychology Today