The Bargain We Never Meant to Make
Last week, I asked a question I've been thinking about for a long time: When did doing well become evidence that you were worthy?
It's an uncomfortable question because most of us probably can't identify the exact moment it happened. I certainly can't. I don't remember consciously deciding that competence would make me valuable, that usefulness would make me important, or that achievement would make me enough.
I think something much quieter happened.
I noticed what worked.
We Learn From What Gets Rewarded
Human beings are extraordinarily good at noticing what earns us belonging, approval, opportunity and recognition. We learn early that some behaviours open doors while others make life harder.
Maybe you were the smart one. The easy one. The funny one. The responsible one. The strong one. The achiever. The helper. The person who never caused trouble. Maybe you became exceptionally good at reading a room, solving a problem, keeping the peace or making yourself useful.
And perhaps those qualities genuinely belonged to you. That's important.
I don't believe our professional personas are necessarily fake. I don't think every strength is a trauma response or every adaptation needs to be diagnosed. Sometimes we're capable because we're capable. Sometimes we're ambitious because we enjoy accomplishing difficult things. Sometimes we're generous because we genuinely like helping people.
The trouble begins when something that works becomes something we believe we need.
The shift can be almost invisible: People value this about me becomes This is why people value me.
Those are very different statements.
The Bargain
This is what I've started thinking of as the bargain.
I'll be competent, and I get to feel credible.
I'll be useful, and I get to feel needed.
I'll achieve, and I get to feel successful.
I'll be strong, and I get to feel respected.
I'll make myself easy to work with, and I get to belong.
Nobody necessarily offered us this bargain. Most of the time, nobody even knows we've made it. We construct it ourselves from years of reinforcement and then forget that we were the ones who signed the imaginary contract.
For a while, it can work beautifully.
In fact, that's part of the problem.
Success Can Hide the Bargain
When the thing you've attached your worth to is also something you're very good at, there may be no obvious reason to question it.
If achievement helps you feel worthy and you keep achieving, the system appears to work. If being needed makes you feel valuable and people keep needing you, nothing seems wrong. If competence gives you confidence and you keep being the person with the answer, the bargain keeps paying dividends.
High performance can hide a worth problem remarkably well.
Until something changes.
You fail.
Someone else gets the opportunity.
Your expertise isn't needed.
Your body can't maintain the pace.
Your career changes.
The children grow up.
The organization moves on.
You retire.
Someone doesn't choose you.
Suddenly, the thing that had been quietly supplying evidence of your value isn't producing the evidence anymore.
And what looks from the outside like disappointment can feel on the inside like an identity crisis.
This Isn't About Blaming the World
It's tempting to look backwards and ask who taught us this. Parents? School? Workplaces? Leadership culture? Capitalism? Social media?
Probably all of them sometimes.
But I'm less interested in assigning blame than I am in noticing the bargain we're carrying now.
Because once I can see it, I have choices.
I can still be capable without asking capability to prove that I matter. I can enjoy recognition without needing applause to confirm my value. I can care deeply about doing excellent work without making excellence the entrance fee for belonging.
And I can receive feedback about my performance without hearing it as a judgment about my humanity.
That's the freedom I'm interested in.
Read the Fine Print
So here's something to sit with this week.
Think about the version of you that has been most rewarded in your life. Not necessarily financially. Think about approval, belonging, praise, trust, recognition and opportunity.
What did that version of you learn?
Maybe it was: Be useful and you'll matter.
Maybe: Be exceptional and you'll be noticed.
Don't need too much and people will stay.
Know the answer and you'll belong in the room.
Keep everyone happy and you'll be safe.
Be strong and you'll be respected.
You don't have to reject any of those qualities. You don't even have to stop doing the things that have helped you succeed.
Just read the fine print.
Ask yourself whether somewhere along the way, something you learned to do became something you believed you had to be.
I've been exploring this question deeply while writing The Feisty Human, because I don't think becoming more human requires us to become less capable, less ambitious or less accountable.
I think it requires something considerably harder.
Learning to let our performance tell us how we're doing without letting it tell us what we're worth.
Your performance can be evaluated. Your worth cannot.
Forward, with purpose.
— Amber
Your performance can be evaluated. Your worth cannot.
If this reflection stayed with you, explore The Feisty Human: Recipes for Becoming Someone You Don’t Have to Negotiate.
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