The Hidden Drive Behind My Hustle

September 14, 2024

There's something I need to confess.

I'm anxious.

All the time.

It's not just a fleeting feeling that comes and goes; it's a constant undercurrent in my life, shaping nearly everything I do.

You might look at my life from the outside and feel like I'm in control, that I have everything figured out. I'm crushing it at the gym, I work a 9-to-5, I'm deep into research, I've got side projects, a YouTube vlog, and an Instagram fitness account. It might seem like I've got it all together, like I'm living the dream.

But the truth is, much of this relentless drive comes from a place of fear. Fear of being left behind. Fear of not achieving what I want in life. Fear of not being enough.

Every time I push myself to failure in a workout, every late night I spend on research or a side project, every carefully curated and captioned Instagram post – they're all attempts to outrun my anxiety. It's as if I believe that if I just do enough, achieve enough, show enough, I'll finally feel secure. I'll finally feel like I'm where I should be.

But anxiety doesn't work that way. No matter how much I accomplish, that nagging voice is always there, whispering that I need to do more, be more.

There's also another layer to this anxiety that I rarely talk about: I'm hesitant to share my wins. Even the small ones. There's often an expectation that people should want to celebrate their accomplishments, but anxiety has a way of twisting even positive moments.

There's this persistent fear that by sharing successes, I'm inviting negativity into my life. I worry about people's jealousy, about the "evil eye" as some might call it. It's as if I believe that by acknowledging any accomplishments publicly, I'm setting myself up for a fall.

This fear tells me that the weeks after any celebration of success will be tough, that somehow the universe will balance things out by making my life harder. It's irrational, sure, but anxiety rarely follows logic. So I often keep any victories to myself, letting them slip by unacknowledged, all because of this insubstantial worry.

The irony is, this constant suppression of achievements has gradually desensitized me to the very feeling of accomplishment I'm chasing. Each unacknowledged victory blends into the background, barely registering before I'm onto the next goal. It's created a never-ending cycle: achieve, ignore, move on, repeat. The momentary high of reaching a goal is fleeting, immediately replaced by the anxious drive towards the next big thing. This relentless pursuit of the next accomplishment has become my norm. It's as if I'm on a treadmill of achievement, always running but never truly arriving, always chasing that sisyphean feeling of "enough" that seems to stay just out of reach.

Don't get me wrong – I'm proud of what I've achieved. The discipline and drive that my anxiety fuels have led me to accomplish things I might not have otherwise. But I'm learning that it's a double-edged sword. The very thing that pushes me forward also robs me of the ability to fully enjoy and share my successes.

I'm sharing this because I know I'm not alone. In a world that glamorizes the hustle and equates busyness with worth, I think many of us are running similar races against our own anxieties. And while that drive can lead to impressive achievements, it's crucial that we recognize the toll it takes – not just in our daily lives, but in our ability to celebrate our journey.

So, to anyone reading this who sees a bit of themselves in my words: you're not alone. Your worth isn't measured by your productivity or your achievements. And it's okay to be proud of what you've accomplished, to share your joy with others. You are enough, just as you are right now.

As for me, I'm working on finding a balance. I'm learning to appreciate my accomplishments without immediately looking for the next mountain to climb or fearing the consequences of acknowledging my progress. I'm trying to find worth in who I am, not just in what I do, and to share my journey – both the struggles and the successes – more openly.

It's a journey, and I don't have all the answers. But acknowledging this hidden driver behind my hustle, and the fears that keep me from celebrating my wins, feels like an important first step. Here's to hoping that by sharing my experience, it might help someone else feel a little less alone in theirs.