A lot of clients who come to my practice have already tried so many things. Years of different types of therapy, meditation, working out, biohacking, self-optimization, morning routines à la Andrew Huberman, The Artist's Way’s morning pages. You name it.
And ironically, sometimes the more they do, the worse they feel.
Because here's the thing. Underneath all that effort is often a familiar message: There's still something wrong with me. Something I need to fix.
And this is the hard part for many of my overachieving, hyper-functioning clients. They're trying to use the same tools that got them to where they are. Work harder, try harder, figure it out, find the solution. These strategies have served them well in so many areas of life, so naturally, they assume they'll work here too.
I've noticed that high achievers often turn healing into another achievement project. Another thing to master, another goal to reach, another version of themselves to become.
And without realizing it, the very process of trying to feel better can reinforce the belief that who they are right now isn't enough.
I'm speaking from lived experience as well.
I once had a therapist tell me, "Just sit there. Don’t do."
I genuinely thought I had misheard her. I said, "Wait, I thought the saying was, “Don’t just sit there. Do something?!"
She kindly explained that I needed to practice doing the opposite.
That conversation has stayed with me. And over the years, both personally and professionally, I've come to appreciate some of life's ironies.
1. Your greatest strengths can also be your kryptonite.
The greater the light, the greater the shadow.
If you're a hard worker and pride yourself on your work ethic, chances are you have a hard time resting. Especially if being productive has become part of your identity and how you measure your worth.
You might intellectually understand that you want to work less, slow down, or have more balance. Yet when you finally have an opportunity to rest, you find yourself restless, anxious, or guilty.
Your body and nervous system may need time to catch up with what your mind already knows.
And that takes practice. Actually slowing down, tolerating the discomfort, and learning that you can still be you even when you're doing less.
2. Being hard on yourself will only get you so far.
A lot of my clients have a complicated relationship with their inner critic. Some even appreciate it.
They'll tell me that their negative self-talk, or what I used to call my "inner chatter," is what pushed them to achieve. That hyperachieving, controlling part has helped them get good grades, build careers, and accomplish things they once thought were impossible.
The problem often becomes more apparent when they realize this part never seems satisfied.
They accomplish something significant, barely have time to enjoy it, and the voice immediately says, "Okay, and now what's next?"
There's always another goal. Another thing to improve. Another reason they're falling short.
I often tell clients that self-criticism and self-denial can sometimes motivate us in the short term. But how sustainable is that?
I think about it like an extreme diet. You can restrict yourself for a while, maybe even see results. Eventually, the deprivation catches up with you, and you find yourself back in the same cycle, sometimes feeling even worse.
Lasting change generally requires something slower and more consistent. And a different relationship with yourself along the way.
3. Being kind to yourself is actually really hard.
Do you know how hard it is for some people to make a mistake and simply say, "Whoopsie"?
For many of my clients, and probably some of you reading this, the automatic response is self-beratement. Replaying what happened, thinking about what you should have done differently, and promising yourself you'll never make that mistake again.
When you've spent decades holding yourself to unrelenting standards, self-compassion can feel foreign. Even uncomfortable.
Some people worry that if they stop being hard on themselves, they'll lose their edge. They'll become complacent or stop achieving.
Research on self-compassion, including the work of psychologist Kristin Neff, has found that treating ourselves with kindness can support motivation, resilience, and our ability to learn from setbacks.
I often ask clients if they would ever speak to someone they care about the way they speak to themselves. They're usually horrified. "NEVER! I would never treat someone that way!"
And yet, somehow, it's so easy to treat ourselves that way.
For many of my clients, learning to be kind to themselves is one of the hardest things they'll ever practice.
4. You're often chasing a feeling, rather than a thing.
Of course it would feel great to win that award, get the promotion, make more money, or finally reach that milestone you've been working toward.
But I often ask clients, What do you imagine you'll feel once you get there?
Competent? Loved? Valued? Proud? Secure? At peace?
Often, these are the feelings we're really after.
And here's where the arrival fallacy and hedonic adaptation come in. We imagine that once we reach a certain milestone, we'll finally experience lasting happiness or fulfillment.
Think about people who make the New York Times bestseller list or win an Oscar. I imagine the excitement can be incredible. And like other emotional highs, that feeling eventually settles.
The next morning, you wake up and you're still you. Your insecurities, fears, and long-standing beliefs may still be there. And for some people, the stakes just get higher. Now that you've achieved this, what's next? How do you top it?
I see this with clients who have spent much of their lives striving toward a particular version of success, only to arrive and wonder why they don't feel the way they imagined.
It can be a really confusing and sometimes lonely experience. And then, on top of everything else, they judge themselves for not being more "grateful" or "appreciative." After all, isn't this what they wanted? So why aren't they happier?
5. There is no final "I've made it" moment.
I think a lot of people come to therapy hoping to reach a certain point where everything will finally be okay.
But I don't know about you, life just keeps happening. Bills still need to be paid, lunches still need to be made, relationships need tending to, and unexpected things come up.
What therapy can offer is a space with a trained professional to explore your inner world. To unpack beliefs, examine patterns, understand your reactions, and sometimes say the scary parts out loud.
One of the first changes many clients describe is that they simply begin to notice more.
They start observing their behaviors almost as though they're looking at themselves through a two-way mirror.
They notice when they're becoming defensive, when they're trying to control something, when they're overfunctioning, or when they're repeating a familiar pattern.
And sometimes, that awareness is uncomfortable. It can feel pretty cringe to recognize the ways you may be contributing to your own unhappiness or frustration.
But this is also where meaningful change begins.
With curiosity, compassion, some redirection, and actions that are more aligned with your values, you gradually begin to respond differently.
Life will continue to bring stressors, uncertainty, and situations outside your control. And over time, you can develop a different relationship with those experiences and with yourself.
I've been on my own journey of unlearning for the better part of 20 years.
One of the things I keep coming back to is how much of this work involves learning to tolerate being human. Making mistakes, feeling uncertain, resting, asking for help, and allowing ourselves to be works in progress.
And perhaps one of the greatest ironies is that the people who have spent their lives becoming really good at achieving things may find that some of their most meaningful growth comes from learning to loosen their grip.
If any of this resonates with you and you're curious about a different kind of therapy experience, I invite you to schedule an exploratory call.
I'd love to support you on your own journey of unlearning.
