The Cost of Crushing It
- 3 days ago
- 2 min read
By Kelly Kiewel
Global Head of Influencers at Riot Games
Winning on Your Own Terms
When I was in my late twenties, I thought I had hacked the system. No college degree, sitting in Amazon VP rooms, rocketing from entry level to Senior Director in seven years. The formula was simple: pour more of yourself in, get more back. Sleep? Optional. Weekends? Negotiable. Time with my partner, my family, my own body? Collateral damage.
I was really good at this game. That was the most dangerous part.
When did success stop meaning the same thing for you?
Five years ago, my body called my bluff. I was diagnosed with a rare blood cancer. Hospitalized for 23 days and 8 months of
chemotherapy. Yeah… Here's the thing nobody tells you: dying of leukemia feels eerily similar to "crushing it at work." That bone-deep exhaustion? I already knew it.
That realization cracked everything open. If dying and "doing great" were cousins, maybe my metrics were off. Success stopped being "how high, how fast?" and became "can I live with the cost of this pace?" The old equation had a hidden column labeled "me" that was deeply in the red.
How do women measure wins differently today?
The traditional corporate playbook is built on KPIs optimized for everything: power, control, constant upward motion, relentless efficiency. It's a game of more. More scope, more headcount, more revenue. More. More. More.
Women are rewriting the scoreboard. We're measuring KPIs not just at face value but by whether we can keep our personal well-being and our professional ambition in the same room without sacrificing the other.
A win is leaving at 5 p.m. for your kid's game and actually remembering the score. It's going on vacation without checking Slack in the hotel bathroom. It's saying no to the urgent meeting that steals your only hour for yourself.
Success no longer means having to optimize everything in life.
What internal win mattered most in your journey?
It wasn't one thing, it was the constant self-accountability that I no longer need my body to completely break down before I admit I'm not okay.
My therapist once told me, "If you need an emergency bubble bath at the end of the day, you've already failed yourself."If I'm constantly scraping myself off the floor and calling it self-care, the problem isn't a lack of bath bombs.
So I redesigned my days. I built a morning routine that exists purely for me: no email, no calendar, no performance review attached. I wake up when it's quiet and start my day for me.
A friend told me a morning routine is like putting on armor. It doesn't stop life from throwing things at you, but you're less likely to take damage.
Success now is far more simple: I don't abandon myself for my ambition. If I keep that promise, I'm winning regardless of my KPIs.
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