The 5 silent costs of being an overachiever

You may be aware that your achievement is costing you. Or you’re so busy achieving that you don’t have the time to consider the cost. Or perhaps, like me, you’re choosing to ignore all the signs even when they’re shouting at you, writes Fleur Marks.

Here are five common silent costs I see consistently with overachievers.

Silent cost #1: Emotional numbness (anhedonia)

When achievement feels hollow.

At the beginning of my career, every win was a triumph. I celebrated for days. It filled my soul. But as overachievement became the norm, the wins felt smaller. I’d achieve the goal, then immediately chase the next thing. No celebration. No pause. Just onto the next hit. I was addicted to the chase, not the achievement. And by the time I got there, I was too exhausted to feel anything. Maybe this is you. Constantly onto the next achievement, never standing still, always hunting for the next dopamine spike. You’re winning. But you can’t feel it any more.

Silent cost #2: Decision fatigue

When simple choices become overwhelming.

I remember hearing the story of an emergency doctor who finished a double shift, making life-changing decisions all night long. She stops at the supermarket for cereal. Standing in the aisle, staring at Coco Pops and Froot Loops, she breaks down. She can’t choose. Can’t move. Her mind has shut down. That’s decision fatigue. For me, it’s when I can’t decide what to wear in the morning, a sign I’m beyond exhausted. The simplest decisions become unclear. As overachievers, we think we can make decision after decision, day after day, without rest or reflection. That we can retain the same clarity indefinitely. We can’t.

Intensive decision making depletes your brain’s energy resources. Your decision quality deteriorates throughout the day. That moment when you snap at someone after a marathon meeting day? Your prefrontal cortex has run out of fuel.

Silent cost #3: Relationship erosion

When everyone gets the leftover version of you.

I’m guilty of this one. I’d give myself to everyone all day, then drive home wiped out, barely able to hold a conversation with my loved ones. I just wanted TV to wash over me. I had nothing left.

You’re physically present but mentally absent at celebrations, for important conversations, at school concerts. Your friend repeats what they just said because your mind drifted to a work challenge. Conversations become transactional, not connective. You’re there, but you’re not really there.

Silent cost #4: Identity crisis

When you don’t know who you are without the achieving.

You meet someone new. The first thing out of your mouth? Your role. Not your name. Not who you are, what you do. When someone asks how you are, you tell them what you’re doing, not how you’re feeling. Doing nothing for a day feels terrifying. Rest feels like failure. When I had to step away from work for treatment, I asked my therapist: “What could I achieve during these five months?” She said, “How about just navigating treatment and staying well?”

My sense of worth was so fused with achievement that simply staying alive didn’t feel like enough. I’d forgotten how to just be. Psychologists call this “identity fusion”, when you become so merged with your role that you can’t separate who you are from what you do. Studies show that high achievers are particularly vulnerable because their self-worth is tied directly to output.

Silent cost #5: Future anxiety

When you’re terrified of slowing down.

The thought of slowing down feels unthinkable. If you stop, everything will fall apart. You’ll fail. Be found out. Worse – all the sacrifice will have been for nothing. Rest, for me, felt like death. Even when my body was shouting at me to stop, I couldn’t. Even facing a chronic illness, I became a high-performing sick person. I kept going, kept pushing and achieving for fear of slowing down.

Research shows that high achievers often use goal-setting and achievement as a coping mechanism, a way to avoid uncomfortable emotions or distress. The brain’s reward system creates a dopamine response to achievement that can become self-reinforcing. Rest feels dangerous because it threatens the momentum that feels like proof of worth. You believe that if you stop pushing, everything collapses. So you simply don’t stop.

Fleur Marks is a leadership trainer, strategist and speaker. This is an edited extract from her book, The Overachiever’s Reset: A Better Way to Succeed Without Losing Yourself.

Want to see more stories from trusted news sources?
Make HR Leader a preferred news source on Google.