Everyone celebrates the result.
Very few talk about the psychological expense of getting there.
High performance looks different from this side of the room.
In last week’s piece, we dived into the internal conflict that many great achievers experience but infrequently express: what happens when identity and success become intertwined?
Through the Consultant Lens, this week’s reflection dives into the often unseen patterns behind elite performance.
As a performance psychologist, I work with people who operate under intense pressure from elite sportspersons, executives to creatives. On the surface, these high achievers might seem self-assured, calm, and in control.
However, behind the scenes, a different narrative commonly surfaces, one that is characterised by:
- A quiet struggle with identity
- A sense of internal exhaustion
- Pressure that doesn’t let up — even in success (no off switch).
And it’s not random — the patterns are strikingly consistent.
What Lies Beneath the Surface
There’s a big misconception that performance psychology is simply about “mental toughness,” goal setting, and grit. Although these factors are important, the real work is far more extensive.
It’s also understanding the multifaceted emotions, demands, and obstacles that come with succeeding at a high level —not just pushing harder.
Time and again, I hear:
I’m not sure how to stop.”
“When I’m not working or training, I feel guilty.”
“Without this, I don’t know who I am.”
“People believe I’m doing well, but I feel empty.”
These aren’t just passing thoughts. They’re symptoms of something systemic: the over-identification with performance as self-worth.
The Consultant Lens: What’s Actually Happening in These Moments?
What I see most often is emotional rigidity.
When your routine, identity, and sense of worth are founded on a narrow concept of success, even small disruptions can feel like the end- or anything outside of that zone feels like a threat.
In such states:
- Rest feels dangerous
- Worth becomes conditional
- Vulnerability is seen as weakness
But here’s the truth: the most enduring performers are rarely the ones who push hardest. They’re the ones who learn to adapt emotionally, who widen their inner range.
This doesn’t mean that they are less ‘mentally tough.’ It’s also about being more attuned, more human.
The Role of a Performance Psychologist Isn’t to Push — It’s to Reframe.
Contrary to what people presume, I’m not here to help people do more.
It’s to help them see differently.
Some of the most transformative moments in my practice come from subtle reframes:
- Helping someone re-define success in a way that’s personally meaningful, not just publicly validated.
- Making room for imperfection, so performance doesn’t come at the cost of identity.
- Introducing recovery as a skill — not a luxury.
- Asking deeper questions: Besides this role, who am I? Not simply what is expected of you, but what do you want?
A swimmer realizes their worth isn’t proven every time they compete. An executive takes an entire weekend off — without guilt. An artist reconnects with creativity after months of stillness
These aren’t headline moments. But they are turning points — ones that often lead to healthier, more sustainable performance.
A Final Thought
You don’t need to be in crisis to benefit from support.
Actually, it’s best to think about how you relate to performance before the pressure gets to you.
Because every standing ovation, promotion, or medal has a human behind it.
And when a person feels grounded, seen, and supported — the performance that follows is more sustainable, more fulfilling, and more real.
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