Reflections of an Insecure Overachiever…

In his book, Meditations for Mortals, Oliver Burkeman reasons that our hustle culture is created by the misunderstanding that our existence is insufficient reason to be happy and fulfilled. Some of us run on an often-unconscious belief that we “must prove that we are worthy to exist”. Burkeman describes it as starting each day in deficit of some productivity debt we believe we need to pay off, before we can relax.

The trouble is that we never seem to be able to settle this productivity debt, because every time we achieve the impossible, reach the deadline, or finally manage to get slightly ahead, we realize that we now must keep maintaining this new standard of performance and achievement. Consequently, there is no end in sight, and we keep at it day after day, in the hopes that one day we will arrive at this elusive future where we finally feel “good enough” or like we have done enough. Unfortunately, that day is never coming, because we have set it up in a way that we can never get there…

Burkeman describes himself as an “insecure overachiever” and explains that insecure overachievers feel the need to justify their existence. Insecure overachievers’ accomplishments are attempts at proving their worth, and their days are thus riddled with anxiety. It’s like one of my clients who was exceeding the sales targets at her company every month. She was creating three times more business than anyone else. And despite the praise and acknowledgement she was receiving from her boss and her colleagues, she shared with me, “I just feel this constant anxiety that I might fail, and I cannot afford to fail. That keeps me going.”

Burkeman sites several factors that contribute to becoming an insecure overachiever. Protestant Work Ethic, as one example, promotes a strong (often self-sacrificing) commitment to hard work, dedication to one’s “calling” and frugality as evidence of one’s goodness and purity. It’s also no coincidence that Protestant Work Ethic coincided with the rise of Modern Capitalism… The doctrine of the Protestant Work Ethic often associates idleness with sin, encouraging constant productivity.

Whether you consciously or unconsciously internalised some of these beliefs, they have certainly impacted your life. I have so many clients who tell me that they “have to be productive” and “don’t like having nothing to do”. These clients associate rest and doing nothing with laziness and idleness.

I used to value productivity above everything else. I watched my father live the letter of the Protestant Work Ethic right up to his final hours of life, relentlessly moving forward, trying to get more done, and completely unwilling to allow himself to rest – even when he was terminally ill and dying. This was hard to witness – not just because it broke my heart to see him suffer so much, and be unwilling to grant himself any reprieve, but also because it forced me to look at what I was doing in my own life.

Walking through my father’s illness and death was eye-opening, because I saw how much I was doing the exact same thing in my own life – i.e., relentlessly pushing forward, unwilling to slow down to rest, play, absorb, appreciate, celebrate. In my mind, there was simply no time for rest, play, silliness, celebration, idleness, presence, because there were all these arbitrary deadlines that I had convinced myself I needed to meet.

If you asked me why these deadlines were so important, I wouldn’t have really been able to tell you other than that not reaching them was causing me anxiety, and making me feel like I wasn’t doing enough. These beliefs and stories are the residue of Protestant Work Ethic doctrine and the Capitalist push towards continuous productivity so we can continue to spend more and more money on things we don’t really need.

At the same time, I could see the absurdity of my reasoning, because over the past seven years I have also discovered the magic in being fully present and alive, allowing for rest, play, silliness, laughter, and celebration. These experiences were what made life wonderous and magical. These things, I started to see, made life worth living, and made the parts of life where I was working, more fun and more meaningful. I had begun to weave in and out of rest, play, and work, and have started to choose the things that felt fun and joyful, over the things I told myself had to be done…

As a witness to the impact of these beliefs and what they were doing to someone I loved, I suddenly “got it”. I no longer understood it at an intellectual level. I understood it at the level of lived experience. And once we understand something at the experiential level, we no longer need convincing. Our own internalized experience tells us everything we need to know.

I came home from burying my father, determined to break the grip of the Protestant Work Ethic programming that has run my life for so long, determined to stay rooted in my own knowing of the gifts of presence, aliveness, playfulness, rest, and celebration, and determined to no longer hedge my worthiness to my productivity.

If the only thing my children remember about me was how hard I worked, then I have failed to teach them what life is truly about. If all they remember is that I was never around, because work was always more important than anything else, then I have failed at my most important job – being their mother, and being with them during the most important parts of their life journeys.

One of the byproducts of constant productivity for the sake of productivity, is loneliness. It’s such an isolating experience, because we postpone activities with friends and family, given these activities often do not add to our productivity or output. And yet, they add to our quality of life, our experience of love, connection, and friendship.

On so many trips back home to visit my family, my father would say that he could not spend time with me, because he had to work. Taking time off work was simply not possible, even if it meant that he would not get to see me for another two years… And I would feel the heartbreak in that moment of another missed opportunity for connection, for conversation, for simply being with each other and enjoying the fullness of life that can only be savoured in slowing down to the speed of life and the speed of conversation.

Are there things we actually need to do? Yes, in a very mundane sense of the word, there are certain things we can decide are “have to’s”. I prefer “need to” over “have to”; and it doesn’t really matter. Choose whatever resonates for you. Oliver Burkeman provides some beautiful examples of this. To pay my rent, I need to create income. If I choose to create income from a job, then I probably need to meet my boss’ requirements for the job to avoid making the working experience more difficult than it needs to be. Most parents would agree that it’s probably a good idea to provide your children with food and clothing.

So, in a very real sense, there are things that need to be done. And I invite you into discernment about this. Which commitments feel important because they support your family or your lifestyle? And which commitments feel like you are hustling for your worthiness? Which commitments actually add real, tangible value to your life? And which commitments feel like they are robbing you from being with those you love, or robbing you of your energy and passion for life?

We tend to postpone the dinner with family, or attending that school concert, or visiting our elderly parent, thinking we will have another opportunity, not realizing that nothing in life is ever guaranteed. Hugs, cuddles, and bedtime stories get replaced by empty rooms and hurried goodbyes out the door. Family lunches and get-togethers get replaced by empty tables and living spaces that are hardly ever used. Messy rooms and kitchens get replaced by a silence and emptiness that is deafening.

The first year of losing a loved one consists of so many replayed moments – now with the gift of hindsight. A loved one’s passing leaves a line in the sand of time. And suddenly every moment leading up to the moment of death is replayed with awareness of the last conversation, the last words that were said, the last time a hug was exchanged, the last time you laughed together, lost dreams and longings, goals that were never accomplished, trips never taken, tasks left undone…

What if the conditioning we received is robbing us of our own innate wisdom? What if your existence is proof that you matter, and that you are enough? And nothing else is required? How have we lost sight of the true gift of life – i.e., to be alive? True thriving is the willingness to question what we believe and consciously choose how we want to spend our finite time on this earth; knowing that being alive is the actual gift, because it was never a given…