Have you ever sat down to begin a task, only to feel as if all the motivation immediately left your body? I often find myself saying, “I want to do this,” but for some reason, I can’t.
I used to associate high performance with operating from a consistent level of high capacity. I had an identity around doing as much as possible, as quickly as possible. In recent years, I have come to accept that an approach I once considered an advantage, one that was celebrated and reinforced in every academic or work setting I entered, became maladaptive over time.
When I first started struggling with tasks, my response was to push harder, which only made it worse. I felt like Humpty Dumpty. The old version of me who seemingly used to do it all had fallen off a wall. No matter what I tried, I wasn’t going back to that way of functioning. I thought about quitting my job. I wondered why no one else seemed to be struggling. Now I know that many are, and somehow, that simultaneously makes it better and scarier. Better in that I’m not alone, but scarier in that no one holds the secret to reset. We have to go through this, and grow through this, one step at a time. Together, we are learning how to walk (and work) differently.
How Stress Affects Our Capacity
We may be carrying a physical, emotional, or cognitive load that is invisible to others, and perhaps even ourselves. This could be anything from tension in our bodies and unresolved or suppressed emotions to an open loop of tasks. Each of these can affect our capacity in any given moment and our ability to meet expectations or fulfill what is being asked of us.
In my search a few years back for answers to why I suddenly found it so difficult to plan, organize, and see tasks through, I stumbled across executive function, a set of processes that help us engage in goal-directed behavior such as planning, making decisions, initiating and seeing tasks through, and regulating our emotions.
When we experience a stressor, ideally, the part of our brain that controls executive function (the prefrontal cortex) responds. However, the amygdala, associated with a fear (fight, flight, freeze) response, can overpower or shortcut the prefrontal cortex. When this happens, we are more likely to react impulsively. This is why we often find it difficult to engage in the coping behaviors we know would be most helpful.
Even the most basic tasks may feel impossible. It’s hard to think clearly, make decisions, or be kind to ourselves. All we can see is what we haven’t done.
Planning becomes difficult because it takes effort and energy. Our brains may default to habits and behaviors associated with protecting us from danger, including shutting down. Even when we want to follow advice that feels aligned for us, it’s hard because we lack the capacity, support, or resources.
Often it isn’t until the perceived threat or pressure is eased that our capacity returns.
Shame Is a Quick Fix With a Hidden Cost
Where could I go to hide from myself? If I am shaming myself, I’m not going to ask for help; I’m not going to change what I can; I’m simply going to conclude that I’m not enough.
This is how I end up feeling stuck.
When we have internalized high expectations and are not able to meet them, we see ourselves as the problem. We don’t have a clear, direct way to attribute it to the environment, and even if we did, we don’t control that. So we try to control what we can by shaming ourselves toward greater productivity and, thus, worthiness and acceptance.
Our worth is tied to neither successes nor setbacks. Caring for ourselves means seeing the reality that we are struggling, without seeing ourselves as the struggle. For me, this means fiercely protecting my self-concept by:
- tuning into what I am experiencing and what I need
- finding people who can see me for who I am
- cutting my to-do list down to a grace list (to help me survive this day)
- saying no to protect my yes
- advocating for my needs and reality
No one can see what I don’t communicate and advocate for.
Accountability That Accounts for Conditions
When we set out to meet what we believe are reasonable expectations and fall short, we often judge ourselves, believing it is our fault. We rarely consider the larger context, current conditions, or fluctuations of human performance. We hold ourselves to the standards of a should that has never met our reality. We achieve closure by resorting to self-blame, which comes at the cost of the inner trust and safety we need to take risks moving forward. A better approach is to hold ourselves accountable without heaping blame and acknowledge conditions beyond ourselves.
This is a collaborative effort. It begins with leaders proactively providing support, acknowledging gaps in resources, and setting conditions that encourage honesty about one’s capacity and the potential impact of modifying expectations. Without this, sharing one’s true needs can be a liability. If you are your own boss, this is a matter of self-leadership. You must be intentional in creating a culture that will sustain you.
How to Reframe High Performance
The idea of high performance being personified by individuals is short-sighted, as it assumes human capacity is consistent, or worse, ever-expanding. Instead of thinking of individuals as high performers, consider the conditions that foster sustained impact, and take proactive steps to safeguard humanity and replenish capacity. When people break, the culture crumbles.
Leaders can start by being honest about the challenges they are facing, and those being faced by people in their organization. What are they modeling? Are they empowering their people to make decisions and work in a way that is sustainable? Or are they accelerating conditions for burnout? Expecting ever higher levels of performance without adequate support and resources strains the individual and ultimately compromises the organization’s culture and capacity to fulfill its mission.
Whether you lead the culture or work within it, you are not alone. We are all walking through this and figuring it out in real time amidst a rapidly changing world. You do not have to prove yourself or prevent this from ever happening again. The practice is learning to anchor yourself in who you are outside of what you do, and to protect your capacity and preserve your light.
