The Growth Trap: When the Pursuit of Becoming Becomes Exhausting Performance
The same discipline that grounds you can also trap you.
Part 5 of 7 in The Stability-Growth Paradox Series
I was crushing my goals.
It was January through April of last year. I’d committed to the Heroic Elite program—101 days of focused optimization. My goal: reduce my waist-to-height ratio. Get healthier. Build the discipline I knew I needed.
I created exercise plans. Changed my diet. Drank more water. Hit my targets. Checked all the boxes.
And then, around week 8, my body forced me to stop.
Injured.
Not catastrophically. But enough that I had to pause. Enough that I had to ask myself an uncomfortable question:
Was I checking boxes… or was I checking the RIGHT boxes?
Because here’s what I’d missed in my relentless pursuit of optimization: I was getting the movement, but I wasn’t getting the recovery.
I was so focused on doing MORE that I forgot to ask if I was doing WELL.
And that’s the growth trap.
The Paradox of Protocols
In my last blog, I wrote about how protocols saved me. How discipline and structure and daily practices are what hold me steady when everything around me is chaos.
And that’s true.
But here’s what I’m learning—the hard way, in real time, as a work in progress:
The same discipline that grounds you can also trap you when you forget to ask if you’re pursuing the right kind of growth.
Not all movement is progress.
Not all optimization is healthy.
Not all “becoming” is aligned.
Sometimes the pursuit of growth becomes its own form of imprisonment.
When Discipline Becomes Drivenness
There’s a fine line between commitment and compulsion.
Between pushing yourself heroically and pushing yourself harmfully.
Between growth that energizes and growth that depletes.
And I’ll be honest: I’m still figuring out where that line is.
During Elite, I thought I was being disciplined. But I was actually being driven—by the desire to hit my goal, to prove something, to check the boxes that I thought defined success.
I wasn’t listening to my body.
I wasn’t building in recovery.
I wasn’t asking, “Is this sustainable?”
I was asking, “Am I doing enough?”
And “enough” kept moving.
Because here’s the thing about the growth trap: there is no finish line. There’s always another target. Another optimization. Another version of yourself that’s “better” than the one you are right now.
And if you’re not careful, the pursuit of “better” becomes a treadmill you can’t get off.
The Perfectionist’s Trap
I’m a recovering perfectionist.
Which means I have this lovely internal rule: If I can’t do it perfectly, I won’t do it at all.
Sounds noble, right? High standards. Commitment to excellence.
Except here’s what it actually does: It stops me from starting.
For decades, I didn’t let myself dream for myself because my dreams felt too big, too unrealistic, too imperfect.
I couldn’t see a clear path, so I didn’t take a step.
I couldn’t guarantee success, so I didn’t try.
I couldn’t do it “right,” so I did nothing.
The growth trap for perfectionists isn’t just exhausting optimization.
It’s paralysis disguised as high standards.
And the irony? You’re so afraid of not being enough that you never give yourself the chance to become anything at all.
The Comparison Trap
Even when you do start—even when you commit to growth—there’s another trap waiting:
Comparison.
I know—intellectually—that everyone’s journey is idiosyncratic. That there’s no one-size-fits-all approach. That my path won’t look like anyone else’s.
But knowing that doesn’t stop me from comparing myself to people who are further along, more disciplined, more optimized.
People who wake up at 4:30 AM and crush their protocols before most people hit snooze.
People who seem to have it all figured out while I’m still trying to find balance in the chaos.
And when I compare, I always come up short.
Because here’s the thing about comparison: You’re measuring your behind-the-scenes against someone else’s highlight reel.
You’re measuring your messy, imperfect, work-in-progress reality against their polished performance.
And you will always lose that game.
The growth trap convinces you that if you’re not performing at someone else’s level, you’re not doing enough.
But that’s a lie.
Your journey isn’t supposed to look like anyone else’s.
The People-Pleaser’s Yes
Here’s another way the growth trap gets me:
I’m a people pleaser.
Which means I say yes to opportunities—even good opportunities—that aren’t actually aligned with my goals or my capacity.
I say yes because I don’t want to disappoint.
I say yes because I want to be helpful.
I say yes because I think I *should* be able to handle it.
And then I’m exhausted. Overextended. Resentful.
Not because the opportunities were bad. But because I didn’t ask if they were right for me, right now.
The growth trap tells you that more is better.
That saying yes to opportunities is what ambitious people do.
That if you’re not constantly expanding, you’re falling behind.
But here’s what I’m learning: Every yes to something that’s not aligned is a no to something that is.
And sometimes the most growth-oriented thing you can do is say no.
When Your Body Forces You to Listen
I wish I could say I learned all of this through wisdom and foresight.
I didn’t.
I learned it because my body forced me to stop.
The injury during Elite.
The lack of sleep during this chaotic season.
The exhaustion that comes from doing all the things without building in recovery.
My body kept sending signals: Slow down. Rest. You need recovery.
And I kept ignoring them because I thought rest was the opposite of growth.
But here’s the truth I’m finally learning:
Recovery IS growth.
Sleep isn’t laziness—it’s when your body repairs, integrates, strengthens.
Rest isn’t weakness—it’s the foundation for sustainable performance.
Saying no isn’t quitting—it’s protecting your capacity for the things that truly matter.
You can’t optimize your way out of the need for recovery.
And trying to do so is the fastest way to break yourself.
The Question of Enough
So how do you know when you’re in the growth trap?
For me, it’s this question: Am I pursuing growth because it aligns with who I’m becoming, or because I’m afraid I’m not enough?
Aligned growth feels like:
Energy (even when it’s hard)
Resonance (it feels right in your bones)
Sustainability (you could keep doing this)
Integration (it’s building on who you are, not replacing it)
Choice (you’re moving toward something, not running from inadequacy)
The growth trap feels like:
Exhaustion (even when you’re “succeeding”)
Performance (trying to be seen a certain way)
Unsustainability (you know you can’t keep this up)
Fragmentation (you’re becoming someone you don’t recognize)
Compulsion (you’re running from “not enough”)
The growth trap whispers: You’re never doing enough. You’re falling behind. You should be further along. Look at what everyone else is doing.
Aligned growth says: This is the next right step. This is who I’m becoming. This is enough for today.
What I’m Learning About Right Boxes vs. Checked Boxes
Here’s the framework I’m using—imperfectly, as a work in progress:
Right boxes:
Align with your values and goals
Honor your capacity right now
Include recovery, not just output
Feel sustainable over time
Energize even when they challenge you
Checked boxes:
Look impressive but feel hollow
Ignore your actual needs and limits
Push without rest or integration
Can’t be maintained long-term
Deplete even when you’re “succeeding”
During Elite, I was checking boxes. Hard.
But I wasn’t asking: Are these the right boxes for me, in this season, with my body’s actual needs?
I was asking: Am I doing what I’m supposed to do?
And those are very different questions.
Strategic Release: The Christmas Permission
This season—with Dave’s retirement, our 20th move, our son’s wedding, raccoons in the attic, and everything else—I had a choice to make about Christmas.
My old self would have pushed through. Put up all the decorations. Wrapped every gift perfectly. Made it “Instagram-worthy” because that’s what Christmas is “supposed” to look like.
But I gave myself permission to release that.
Limited decorations.
Very limited gift preparations.
Not because I didn’t care, but because I was choosing to protect my capacity for what truly mattered.
I let go of perfectly wrapped gifts.
I let go of the “expected timeline.”
I accepted that Christmas can be celebrated with intention on a different day, rather than with exhaustion on the “right” day.
What I didn’t let slide:
My daily walks
My stretching
My quiet pondering time
Because those are the practices that actually ground me. Those are the right boxes.
And releasing the performance of “perfect Christmas” created space for the reality of “present Angela.”
The Both/And of Growth and Rest
Here’s what I’m still figuring out:
How do you honor both the discipline that saves you AND the rest that sustains you?
How do you push yourself toward growth without pushing yourself into the ground?
How do you know when to lean in and when to pull back?
I don’t have perfect answers. I’m living the questions.
But here’s what I’m learning:
It’s not either/or. It’s both/and.
Discipline AND rest.
Growth AND integration.
Becoming AND being.
Optimization AND acceptance.
The growth trap happens when you forget the “and.”
When you pursue becoming so relentlessly that you lose being.
When you optimize so constantly that you forget to integrate.
When you push so hard that you break.
The wisdom is in the balance.
And balance isn’t a destination—it’s a constant recalibration.
What to Do When You Recognize the Trap
If you’re reading this and thinking, Oh. I might be in the growth trap—here’s what I’m learning to do:
1. Ask if you’re checking boxes or checking the RIGHT boxes.
Does this align with my actual goals?
Does this honor my capacity right now?
Is this sustainable?
Does this include recovery?
2. Notice the signals your body is sending.
Exhaustion that sleep doesn’t fix
Injuries or illness
Lack of energy or joy
Resentment or depletion
3. Get honest about comparison.
Whose journey am I measuring against?
Am I comparing my behind-the-scenes to their highlight reel?
What would my journey look like if I weren’t trying to match theirs?
4. Practice strategic release.
What can I let go of this season?
What’s performance vs. what’s essential?
What would it look like to protect my capacity?
5. Celebrate what you DID, not just what you didn’t.
Where did I show up today?
What did I choose that was aligned?
What’s working, even imperfectly?
6. Remember: Rest IS growth.
Sleep
Recovery
Integration
Saying no to protect your yes
Still Learning, Still Growing
I’m not writing this from the other side.
I’m writing this from the middle of it—still figuring out the balance, still learning to discern, still catching myself in the trap and trying to choose differently.
This season, I’m not getting the sleep I need. I’m not always saying no when I should. I’m still tempted to compare my messy journey to someone else’s polished one.
But I’m learning.
I’m learning to ask better questions.
I’m learning to listen to my body.
I’m learning that growth without rest isn’t sustainable.
I’m learning that “enough” isn’t a moving target—it’s a choice.
And maybe that’s the point.
The growth trap isn’t something you solve once. It’s something you navigate, again and again, with increasing wisdom.
You don’t arrive at perfect balance.
You practice it. Imperfectly. As a work in progress.
And you give yourself grace for the learning.
Your Turn
Maybe you’re in your own version of the growth trap right now.
Pushing too hard. Saying yes when you should say no. Comparing yourself to people further along. Checking boxes without asking if they’re the right boxes.
Here’s what I want you to know:
You don’t have to optimize your way to worthiness.
You’re already enough.
Growth is beautiful. Discipline is powerful. Optimization can transform your life.
But not at the cost of your health, your joy, your capacity, your soul.
Ask yourself:
Am I pursuing growth because it aligns with who I’m becoming?
Or because I’m afraid I’m not enough?
What boxes am I checking—and are they the RIGHT boxes?
What would it look like to release something this season? To protect my capacity? To choose rest?
Where am I comparing my journey to someone else’s—and what would mine look like if I stopped?
What did I do today that’s worth celebrating, even if it’s imperfect?
You’re not falling behind.
You’re not doing it wrong.
You’re learning. Growing. Becoming.
And that’s more than enough.
Next in the series: What You Keep, What You Release—The Art of Knowing What to Carry Forward and What to Leave Behind
What about you? Where do you struggle with the growth trap? How do you know when to push and when to rest? I’m still figuring this out—I’d love to hear what you’re learning.