This is a little bonus article for you because I stumbled upon an experience that I felt I just had to share. If you’re currently dealing with a lot of heavy emotions or feeling completely overwhelmed, this one is especially for you.

Lately, I’ve realized something about myself: I use “busy work” as a form of protection. When I’m cleaning, planning, or working, I don’t have to feel what's bubbling under the surface. But those hidden emotions don’t go away just because we’re productive; they wait for us to stop.

So, I decided to stop. I set a timer and spent 60 minutes doing absolutely nothing. No phone, no book, no chores. Just me.

Here’s how it went:

Stage 1: The resistance

The first 15 to 20 minutes were honestly just loud. My brain was like a radio stuck between stations. I found myself “stimming”, singing all the “brain rot” TikTok sounds I’d heard during my morning doom-scrolling. Then suddenly, I started reviewing my client meetings.

After a while, the first real wave of emotion hit: Anxiety. My mind started screaming: “Why am I doing this? This is a total waste of time. Maybe 60 minutes is too long... I should have just done 15.” I’d like to name this: the resistance stage. I realize it’s the part of me that is terrified of being alone with myself because I know some emotions will arise, and I won’t be able to control it.

Stage 2: The confrontation

Once the initial panic had settled, the emotions got a bit more heavier (real). I felt a wave of anger and frustration. My inner critic took the wheel and started listing everything I was “failing” at: “The house is messy. Why hasn’t the laundry been done? Why aren’t you spending enough time with your husband?”

I realized these emotions had made my body feel more tense than when I started. I started to stretch and yawn, over and over, even though I wasn’t sleepy. In retrospect, I think it was my body letting go of the “productivity pressure.”

What came after that was sadness. I tried to pinpoint it, where it came from. But nothing came up. I wasn’t sad about anything in particular. So, I let it be. I let it sit with me. I just welcomed it like a guest.

Stage 3: The “finish line”

After that sadness passed through me, I felt light. I started having these funny, sweet memories from my life. I looked around my bedroom and noticed things out of place, but instead of feeling bothered or stressed, I found them funny. I felt a genuine appreciation for my surroundings and somehow, life in general.

Around the 40-minute mark, my cat wandered in. He wanted pets, and I felt this massive rush of endorphins. Because I had been “bored” for so long, the simple act of petting my cat felt like the best thing in the world.

The last few minutes felt the longest. That “inner critic” tried to come back for a second visit, but because I’d already acknowledged her once, she didn’t stay long. When the timer finally went off, I felt a jolt of euphoria. It felt like I’d just crossed the finish line of a marathon.

What I learned from this (and why I want you to try it)

1. Doom-scrolling is a lid on a pot. The more we scroll, the more we repress our real feelings.

2. Emotions are like guests. If you don’t open the door and acknowledge them, they’ll just keep knocking louder (in the form of headaches, tension, or snapping at people you love).

3. Busy work is a distraction. We spend so much time listening to our “to-do list” that we forget to listen to our inner selves.

Would I do this every day? Nope. It won’t be realistic and probably would beat the purpose. But, I’ll definitely do it again in a month or two when the overwhelm starts to creep back in.

I 100% recommend trying this. Set a timer, sit on your bed or the floor, and just... exist. Let the TikTok/Reels sounds play out, let the anger visit, and wait for the sadness to pass. There is such a beautiful lightness waiting for you on the other side.

Welcome, May!

Annisa

For the longest time, we were sold a single, predictable map. We walked the path with our heads down: graduate school, find the degree, secure a full-time job, climb the ladder, retire. We were taught that stability was the ultimate prize and that straying from the “given path” was odd.

But it is now 2026, and the air has changed.

no but seriously

The stable job is dead. So what do we do now?

Last week I wrote my first Substack piece about the death of the stable job. The response kind of caught me off guard: 200+ likes, over 70 new subscribers. All in 1 week…

Read more

a month ago · 229 likes · 81 comments · Pilar Suquilvide

The old system is starting to feel outdated, and our collective psyche is no longer satisfied with comfort at the cost of our souls. We are living through a massive transition, a period where many of us are choosing to hit the “restart” button at the very age society told us we should be peaking.

But here is the question we must ask ourselves:

Are we actually ready to restart?

Handing in a resignation letter is easy. Serving a two-week notice feels like a countdown to New Year’s Eve, a promise of a “new you” and “total freedom”. We pack our boxes, walk out those glass doors, and never look back. Great!

But there is something we carry out with us that isn’t in those boxes: our old conditioning.

Too many of us are trying to build a new life while still running on old software (as my therapist said). We expect to excel in something new at the speed we used to, and results we knew how to make happen in one quarter. Completely forgetting that we are now starting from scratch with little to no foundation.

Our old conditioning is blocking our becoming

I think of my friend who moved abroad to follow her dreams, only to realize she had brought her rigid, hometown expectations with her. She was in a new country, but her mind was still stuck in the old one, trying to force a new culture into her old habits. She eventually shared her learning: “No matter where we go, if we don’t update our mindset, we’ll just create the same problem and face the same challenges.”

Another friend of mine recently tried to escape burnout by immediately starting a new job. She realized she had miscalculated the timeline and overestimated her capability for “healing” the burnout. Two months into her new role, she felt the same dread. She learned that burnout doesn’t disappear because you have a new boss or a new role or a better salary; it follows us until we choose to recognize it and heal it.

And last, I think of myself. I left the corporate world to build my marketing consultancy, only to find that I had become my own worst boss. I expected myself to be an expert in a brand-new field in a brand-new country by month one. It was like trying to win a marathon I have never trained for! I’ve finally realized that this was the source of my anxiety.

Giving ourselves a grace period

These stories have taught me that every restart requires a grace period. I mean… even full-time jobs have probation periods, no? So if you experienced something similar, please hear this:

1. Give yourself time to grieve the old you: We have to let go of the person we used to be to make room for the person we are becoming. This includes accepting that some people will be disappointed by our change, which could also be ourselves. Let it happen.

2. Give yourself time to be “bad” at new things: We are exploring brand-new territories. It is okay to be a beginner again. It takes time to build new networks, tools, and systems from scratch. Most of us didn’t give ourselves enough time to be bad, and this is why most of us fail in the first place.

3. Give yourself time to update your perspective: You are no longer playing the role society expected of you. This is a new persona. It requires a new set of beliefs and a new vision. It will take time to shape, and it will also shed the wrong people away and attract the right people to you.

Undiluted

Being "Disliked": How 'People Pleasing' Is Killing Your Business.

By the time us Gen-Xers hit our 40s and 50s, we have become masters of the “universal” tone…

Read more

a month ago · 4 likes · 2 comments · Undiluted

A brand new persistent you

The bridge between our old lives and our new ones is built with persistence. But we must first redefine what that word means.

In the old system, “persistence” meant the “grind,” pushing until we broke. This time, it has to mean something else, and we get to decide what it is. We didn’t leave the old system to build a new version of misery. Some of us may leave it for freedom, agency; for me, I left it for balance.

If doubt starts telling us that “we are not doing enough”, recognize it for what it is: our old conditioning. When that voice tells us we’re failing because we aren’t moving at “corporate speed,” listen instead to our new selves, the ones asking us to slow down and breathe.

So, if you are restarting, too, remember: You don’t have to prove anything to the old system anymore. Be kind to the person you are becoming. Let’s keep going, and let’s do it differently this time.

Sending strength and rooting for you.

Annisa.

Thank you for your patience in April!

There are quite a lot of things happening in the background, including growing a bun in the oven! Realistically, I’m pushing back my marketing consultancy launch towards August, but I’m still committed to publishing on Substack, 3x every month. Why? Because I realize this is where I found most of my joy!

That being said, up next in May, we’ll explore the very familiar topic of “imposter syndrome”. I’m featuring a guest who has a PhD in engineering, and she is “using neuroscience to reverse engineer a better mind.” We’ll dive into the inner workings of our brains, and explore what is actually happening when we doubt ourselves and how we can befriend it.

Speak then!

💙

He left a stable career in aerospace engineering for the uncertainty of a startup, navigating through the judgments of those who couldn’t understand why he would walk away from success.

Soon, he will no longer work as an engineer; he is not yet a successful founder, but he is finally becoming himself.

Rejection is redirection

Born and raised in Spain, was 12 years old when his father first taught him to program. He came of age during the telecom boom of the 2000s, when infrastructure projects poured into the country. This series of events influenced Borja to enter the world of engineering.

Over the next decade, he built a successful engineering career, which led him to relocate to Germany. There, he designed critical systems like jet engines for Rolls-Royce.

When his unit at Rolls-Royce ultimately closed, Borja began a search for a new prestigious role and eventually landed an interview with a perfect $3 billion company: a C-level role, a high salary, and the freedom to work from anywhere. They liked him so much that they offered the job on the spot.

Riding that high, Borja went home, only to receive a shocking call from the recruiter: “We’ve changed our mind and decided to go with another candidate.”

It was the final blow.

While taking time off to recover, Borja began to journal. Climbing the corporate ladder was no longer his vision. Engineering had given him the skills to build systems, but he realized he could apply those skills to something more personal.

So he decided to quit the industry entirely and rebuild himself as the founder of Ara Journals.

This drastic change shocked the people closest to him, ultimately his mother. To her, it looked like he was throwing years of hard effort into the bin just to start from scratch.

“I think the hardest part of having the courage to be disliked isn’t facing strangers. It’s the people who love you, not understanding why what-looks-like-a-great-life doesn’t feel like yours.”

His mother was the one he feared the most to disappoint. She struggled to understand his decision, reminding him: “You don’t know how fortunate you are to be in the position you are in right now.” This reframing of his doubt as ingratitude made Borja question whether he was wrong for wanting something different.

Despite the doubt, Borja leaned into the momentum. He researches, writes, networks, and shows up every day through the challenges.

He has eventually come to accept that doubt and persistence can coexist.

3 Exercises to build the courage to disappoint

As of this article’s publication, Borja’s last day at his current job is fast approaching. “I haven’t arrived anywhere,” he says. “I just have the work and the conviction that this is mine in a way that nothing before it was.”

And through his journey, Borja found three tools that helped him befriend his doubt and stay on his new path.

1. Borja’s version of “Pie of Life”: First, define what you value. Don’t rate your career from 1 to 10 based on external success; prioritize your internal north star.

2. Working on acceptance more concretely: Categorize your current challenges based on three columns:

3. The Daily Highlight: Journaling is most effective when it leads to actions. Write down one concrete item with a specific time and place that you will do today. One step reveals the next.

Building for lasting impact

During our interview, Borja showed me his desk full of samples and previous versions. One is better than the next versions. He aims to build something with a lasting impact by consulting with mental health professionals to comment on the approach of the journals.

I’m personally excited for Ara Journals and rooting for Borja. His courage to quit a prestigious industry and build something meaningful for the community inspired me to continue with my own journey towards resilience.

✨ Ara Journals is looking for your help! ✨

While cherishing his final days with the corporate world, he is also now in the final stages of developing his first guided journal, “Quiet Your Mind.” Unlike a blank notebook, it is a structured practice based on cognitive science, designed to help overthinkers get out of their heads and into action. And he needs our help!

Ara Journals are looking for:

1. Beta testers for the physical journal: has a free PDF sample to be sent to a small group before launch! Anyone interested can email him directly at hello@arajournals.com or direct message him on Substack.

2. Quiz + journal preview: for readers who want a lighter entry point, the quiz takes 2 minutes, and you get a peek at the journal content right after!

Take the quiz here!

Restarting is hard as it is. But I believe with a supportive community, it doesn’t have to be lonely!

In fact, writing this article is probably how I’m processing it.

The well-mannered kid, perfect

Growing up, I was always a chatty child. I was known to be confident, friendly, easy to talk to, and overall a well-mannered kid.

When I was 6 years old or so, I remember being at a family function that ran on for too long. I didn’t throw a tantrum; I just poked my mother and told her, “I’m tired, can we go home?”

A family member who was talking to my mother saw this and said, “Annisa, you are such a polite kid. Then she asked my mom, “Are you proud of her?” My mom, with a big grin on her face, said, “Of course. Do you know that she didn’t even cry that much as a baby? She’s perfect.”

That comment made me happy. I felt rewarded for repressing my emotions.

The grieving teenager, consoling

My mom passed away in 2012 after battling cancer for four years. And thunder struck twice in our family because my father passed away three years after that, in 2015, also from aggressive cancer.

At my father’s funeral, the room was filled with people weeping for me. As an only child who had now lost both parents at 19 years old, I became an object of intense pity. The weight of their sympathy felt suffocating at that time. So I reversed the role and started consoling them for my own tragedy.

When an aunt (whom I hadn’t seen for years) came up to me and told me to “cry more”, I pretended to cry just to give her something.

The ambitious global marketer, striving?

Throughout my career, I have always been known to be reliable. Have you got an urgent email to blast to 2,500 factory workers at 7 p.m.? I've got you. This half-a-million-dollar project needs to be delivered in half the average preparation time? Absolutely.

Also read:

I have known since childhood that being reliable and likable would get me places. In my mind, it would bring me closer to more promotions and bigger job titles. So that’s what I did for my entire career: putting my job ahead of my own needs.

And in November 2025, my body said enough.

How did I end up being a people pleaser?

Raised in an Asian household, I was steeped in a culture of quietude and respect. My upbringing centered on a single, unspoken rule: never be a nuisance. I learned to prioritize the collective harmony of the room over my own voice, unaware that too much of this "virtue" created a people-pleaser out of me.

I have been taught that this is the way to go in life: be reliable, respectful, small, and I will surely be safe.

Just like saying “yes” to impossible tasks, or when I pretended to be okay during my parents’ funerals, or when I was being calm when I wanted to go home, I put everyone else’s needs ahead of mine because I was taught that before I could even pronounce the word “polite”.

Unlearning

I’m 30 now and in therapy. Every two weeks, my therapist and I work through something to unlearn. This time, we’ll be unlearning people-pleasing behavior.

Having jobs abroad and working internationally has helped me unlearn it unconsciously. I became more confident in taking up space when talking to someone from a different background and upbringing. It helped me a lot. That’s probably why I love meeting new people; you can always learn something new.

So here’s what I’ve learned so far:

I used to think being likable was a personality trait. Now I see it was a shield. If everyone liked me, no one could hurt me. But that shield also kept me from real, deep connections. You can’t truly be known by someone if you aren’t willing to disagree with them or is unwilling to hear their disagreement.

Healing

It’s going to take a long time to pluck this out of me; it’s been rooted for a long time. But I’m courageous, committed, and supported. I have my husband (who is ironically a contrarian, lol!), my closest friends, my therapist, and you, who are reading this on Substack.

In practice, I’ll start by reading the book The Courage to Be Disliked. To be honest, I have known about this book for so long, yet I have been avoiding it like the plague because it contradicts my previous people-pleaser beliefs. But it is time to face that.

And I’m going to do one thing I never thought I’d do in my life: sales. I’m a full-time marketing consultant now with my own consultancy. I’m helping solopreneurs build their marketing from scratch or helping professionals and individuals with personal branding. To acquire clients, I’ll do outreach, which is the worst type of sales for me, the people pleaser. Hearing the word “no” over and over again will surely be the “exposure therapy” I need to remind me that I am no longer that person.

This is my first article written from the starting line. It took a lot of courage to do it, but the Substack community has encouraged me so much that I decided to publish it.

So if you made it here, thank you for lending me your strength.

On to the journey. Wish me luck 💙

When I first started on Substack, I went all in.

I wanted it to be my side hustle because the “gurus” promised I could achieve that in just three months if I followed their steps. So I did exactly what they said: I posted Notes every day, wrote a long-form post every week, kept a strict content calendar, collaborated with experts, and promoted myself relentlessly.

For the first two months, it worked! I had my first 100 subscribers. Until one day, I felt like I hit a wall. I was dreading the blank page. I promise it wasn’t laziness; there was just no inspiration.

That’s when I realized my approach needed to change.

The gurus taught me discipline, not growth

Between a few YouTube videos and a social media course I bought (yikes, embarrassing. But I learned!), I was taught a framework, one where frequency is of importance. I learned how to be disciplined, but I was disciplining myself toward a version of growth that wasn’t mine.

To be fair, it wasn’t all bad:

• Daily Notes forced me to reflect more often.

• Weekly writing helped me sharpen my thinking and finally gave me a space to explore my own ideas more deeply.

• Collaborations were the highlight; I learned so much by sharing the wisdom of others.

So, was the “guru” advice total BS? Mostly, yes. But it taught me the discipline I needed at the time.

Now, I’m ready to build a framework that actually fits my vision.

Did I intend to go viral with that note?

I took a step back to ask what I actually enjoyed. I decided to “drop, hold, and let go” of certain expectations. A philosophy I recently learned from Nicole Johnson’s .

And on a random Saturday morning, I wrote that note that ended up resonating with so many of us, it generated 1,888 clicks.

So no, I did not intend to go viral with that note.

What I’ve learned from this experience

1. On Authenticity:

I’m a firm believer in being authentic. Call me naïve or idealistic, but I won’t budge on this. I have never seen a successful person who is also truly fulfilled without being authentic.

I want my success to be built on being comfortable in my own skin: knowing when to quit, when to say no, and when to share. When you speak from a place of true authenticity, your audience resonates with you. People can sense when you’re trying to “hack” their attention versus when you’re actually sharing a piece of yourself.

And this is how I will always approach the opportunities in front of me, from this point onwards.

2. On Growth:

I used to believe growth only meant “more.” A better title, a higher salary, more followers. I thought I needed a massive audience before I could ever launch my marketing consultancy. I was wrong. Growth can also mean an increase in quality, creating less “spam,” and writing for a community instead of just for yourself.

When growth comes from a place of desperation, it feels rushed and forced. From a reader’s perspective, a desperate post feels like an ad, but an authentic post feels like a conversation. When growth comes from authenticity, it expresses itself as quality, and that quality is what naturally attracts the right people.

At the end of the day, we are talking to humans, not algorithms.

What’s next for Healing Out Loud?

I’m launching a course on how to go viral with Substack Notes.

JUST KIDDING!

I’m going to keep writing about the topics this Substack was made for, roughly three times a month:

• Burnout prevention: Recognizing the signs before your body forces you to stop.

• Authentic self-branding: Building a presence that doesn’t require you to be someone else.

• Career pivots: Navigating the shift from the “grind” to intentional growth.

This viral moment hasn’t changed who I am or what I stand for, though I am grateful for the 100+ new connections it brought here (welcome, everyone!)

So, as always, thank you for spending March with me. We’ve discussed “Give to Gain”, how to be a strategic giver at work without burning out on “non-promotable tasks.” In April, we’re diving into the internal shift required to make these boundaries stick: The Courage to Be Disliked.

Often, the biggest barrier to saying “no” is the fear of social friction. We’ve been conditioned to think that being liked is a prerequisite for success. Together, we’ll explore how to break free from the “approval trap.”

A very special guest will also join us! Formerly an aerospace engineer working on complex flight systems, he paused from a high-stakes industry to prioritize his mental health. He now creates beautiful journals and advocates for a slower pace of life. He’ll be sharing his story of unlearning the “hustle” and finding the bravery to start over.

See you then,
Annisa 💙

Nicole realized she had been conditioned to believe that being “always on” and slightly dysregulated was just a synonym for professionalism.

But are you being strategically positioned by being helpful?

Dysregulated women are workplace heroes

Nicole Johnson was a striving leader in big tech. Carrying 27 years of experience, she built teams, mentored individuals, and delivered results at companies like Target, Best Buy, and Amazon. She was the ideal career woman and everything a leader should be. At home, Nicole was a dedicated solo parent to her “medically complex and awesome” son, providing constant care through heart surgeries and recovery.

In October 2024, she had been pushing through an intense season: navigating layoffs on her very first day and managing a team through high-stakes uncertainty. The stress of it caused her body to react: insomnia, “spinning” thoughts, and one day, she woke up with shingles on the side of her face. As the high-performing leader she is, she still showed up for the next meeting.

Only when a colleague looked at her and said, ‘Nicole, you need to take time off,’ did she finally allow herself to stop. That external validation was the permission she needed to finally rest.

Also read:

Drop More, Hold Less

The Workplace Runs on Dysregulated Women

The modern workplace depends on a particular kind of nervous system, even though it rarely names it…

Read more

4 months ago · 1453 likes · 196 comments · Drop More, Hold Less

The “Drop More, Hold Less” Philosophy

After a four-month leave of absence, Nicole returned to work expecting a different outcome. Although she had rested, her environment remained the same. The “spinning” thoughts and insomnia returned within two months. She finally realized that the environment was toxic to her health. That’s how she understood that she needed to resign.

Fast forward to today, Nicole is a coach who helps high-achievers thrive long before a physical breakdown. In our interview, I asked her: If you were to coach your past self, what would you have told her?

She told me it’s about breaking the link between our output and our worth. We over-give because we think being “useful” is our only value. Her new philosophy, “Drop More, Hold Less,” is a commitment to splitting our identity from our job title.

Here’s how to do it:

Two important strategies for high-performing women at work

1. Pause and take your time

“You are allowed to pause and think before making a decision.”

We often feel that we have to answer things directly. Whether it’s a question, favor, demand, request, or tasks, we have to say “yes” instantly to prove we are helpful. But being a strategic leader means reflecting before answering.

So Nicole suggested, before you take on that next “urgent” task, ask yourself:

• Does this directly move one of my 1–3 core outcomes?

• Does this increase my visibility or decision authority?

• Does this protect or drain my non-negotiable capacity (sleep, family, movement)?

If the answer is “no” across the board, you aren’t doing “work”, you’re doing maintenance or emotional labor.

2. “No” is a full sentence (and a strategic one)

And when we realize we cannot or don’t want to take on a task that does not align with our goals, we can say no without damaging our reputation. Nicole suggests scripts that position you as a partner, instead of a bottleneck:

Script 1: The Priority Trade-off: “I can certainly take that on. However, my main priority right now is Goal X, which is tied to our quarterly targets. If I take this on, Goal X will be delayed. Which one would you like me to prioritize?”

Script 2: The One-Time Hand-off: “I’m happy to help with this task this time to get us through the hurdle. However, this isn’t a long-term fit for my role’s direction. Let’s look at how we can distribute this more effectively across the team next time.”

Share

How to move forward: Your Decision Rubric

We often confuse being needed with being strategically positioned. Many women default to a “yes” that eventually may lead to burnout. To break the cycle of overworking, we have to create intentional “white space” to audit our to-do list. Nicole suggested we use this rubric to decide where our energy actually goes to:

Share

I met Nicole for the very first time for this interview. In just 40 minutes, she shared empathy, inspiration, and strategic advice.

If I had met Nicole the coach a year ago, I probably would not have been here writing this article. I’d likely still be “enduring” a situation that was breaking me and trying to work through my own “helpfulness” trap. But I’m very glad to have met her now, so we can share these strategies with you, as we celebrate International Women’s Day together.

✨ Want to reclaim your focus?

If this article resonated with you, Nicole is offering limited free 50-minute Energy Audits the week of 16th March 2026. Join her to see where your capacity is actually going and how to stop the drain.

Claim your FREE energy audit

In the session, you will:

• Map where your energy is currently going across work, emotional labor, and invisible responsibilities

• Identify which tasks are truly strategic vs. “helpful maintenance” work

• Clarify your non-negotiables so your capacity is protected

• Leave with 2–3 concrete ways to reclaim time and shift toward more strategic contribution

If the sessions fill up, or you don’t find a suitable time slot, feel free to reach out directly to nicole@meny.me or message Nicole through Substack.

✨ Exclusive Free Gift for Healing Out Loud Subscribers

For Healing Out Loud readers, Nicole is also offering a complimentary discovery call if you’d like a few practical ideas on how to move away from default “helpful mode” and toward more strategic positioning at work.

Book your FREE Session!

In a corporate environment that values transactions over kindness, how far does being helpful actually take you?

The story of a dangling carrot

I entered the new fiscal year riding the high of a stellar performance review. I’d just landed the biggest bonus of my career, and being the most senior person on the team, I was told I was “in line” for a promotion.

To get there, my manager said I needed to take on tasks outside my scope for visibility. I was excited to say the least: I got to be helpful AND get promoted? This was my song.

For the rest of the year, I went all in. The critical mistakes that weren’t mine were fixed, stale office politics were mediated, new joiners were mentored, and events were MC’d just for the fun of it.

By the next performance review, I walked into the meeting room, chin up, ready to present. I listed all of it: every credit, every fix, every time I was being visibly helpful. I finished my closing statement and waited for the validation to come in.

Instead, what I got was a 3% raise and a shrug.

🤷🏻‍♀️: “Sorry, we don’t have the budget to promote you this cycle. And honestly, the hierarchy doesn’t allow for it right now because we’re a flat organization, as you know.”

Livid, my heart started pounding in my ears. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN? WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY THAT LAST YEAR?” That’s what I wanted to scream.

But all that came out was: “Oh, okay. I understand.”

I went home, cried, and blamed the culture, the politics, everything. But once the heat faded, I realized:

I’d been playing the “helpful” card all wrong.

It’s all business, baby

I’m going to hold your hand when I say this:

There’s a concept called Non-Promotable Tasks (NPTs) that I’ve recently came across. These are the “office housework”: tasks that matter to the organization but do nothing for your career advancement. NPTs keep the lights on, but NPTs don’t get you significantly noticed.

And the kicker: research shows that women spend about 200 more hours per year on these tasks than men do.

But this is not about gender. This is about being strategic.

If I knew then what I know now

Looking back, I realize I shouldn’t have just nodded when I was told to seek “visibility.” I should have stopped and asked for clarity: what does it mean to be promotion-ready? And then, I can turn that vague advice into a real roadmap, one that I can follow up on at every 1:1 meeting. Growth should be clear, not a dangling carrot.

I’ve also learned that being “unhelpful” and “rude” are not the same thing. In my personal life, kindness is simple. But in a corporate setting, kindness needs to be contextualized.

Before I jump into fixing a mistake that isn’t mine, I need to pause and ask: What is the return on this effort? If a task doesn’t move the needle for my own growth, I owe it to myself to allocate that energy elsewhere.

The intention to be helpful was never the problem.

I’m not “wrong” for being a kind person, and I don’t intend to stop. But I’ve learned that corporate systems aren’t built for kindness; they’re built for results.

I had to learn the strategy: be helpful to yourself first. Because only then can you effectively build up everyone else.

It’s all business, baby. 💙

Because here’s the reality: hiding what you feel is exhausting. When we aren’t allowed to be our authentic selves at work, we start to shrink. It’s hard to do your best work when most of your energy is spent pretending that you don’t feel anything at all.

Emotions are signals. They aren’t meant to be ignored, nor are they to be acted upon impulsively. True leadership strength comes from knowing how to handle them.

5 Questions to turn your emotions into strength:

1. What is the actual risk of letting my team see I’m still figuring it out?

• The fear: Many of us hide our emotions because we’re afraid they make us look incompetent.

• The reality: It’s actually the opposite. When a leader says, “I’m feeling the pressure of this deadline, and I don’t have all the answers yet,” it creates a safe space for everyone else to be honest. It shifts the focus from appearing perfect to solving the problem together. When you are authentic, your team stops guessing and starts helping.

2. Where is this emotion sitting in my body right now?

• The signal: Our bodies usually pick up on emotions before our brains can even name them (LeDoux’s “double path”). Repressed emotions don’t just vanish; they get stored in your tight shoulders, your clenched jaw, or your gut.

• The release: Next time you tell yourself you’re “fine” but your neck is stiff, ask yourself what you might be ignoring. Acknowledging the physical feeling is the first step to letting the emotional weight go.

3. Is my poker face creating distance?

• The illusion: We think a neutral exterior makes people feel safe. But usually, it just makes us unreadable. When a team can’t read their leader, they get anxious and start trying to guess what you’re thinking.

• The connection: By sharing just a little bit more of what you’re feeling, you remove the guesswork and build trust. Try saying: “I’m actually quite excited about this, but I’m also a little nervous about how we’ll execute it.”

  

4. Where did I learn that repressing emotions is “professional”?

• The conditioning: Maybe it was a past boss, a specific company culture, or even how you were raised. Often, we were taught to “fall in line” and leave our hearts at the door.

• The choice: Recognizing that emotionless leadership is a learned behavior, and not a universal truth, is empowering. If you learned it, you can unlearn it. You can decide today that your leadership style includes your heart.

5. What would change if I looked at this emotion as data instead of a distraction?

• The shift: Frustration is usually a signal that a boundary has been crossed. Sadness is often a signal that something important isn’t working or has been lost.

• The practice: Instead of pushing the feeling away to get back to “real work,” try to listen. What is that frustration telling you about the team’s workflow? What is the anxiety telling you about the project’s risks? Using emotions as data makes you a sharper, more connected leader.

Being an emotionally intelligent leader

Unlearning an old habit takes time. But the fact that you’re reading this means you’ve already taken the first step. Be patient with yourself. You are NOT becoming less professional, you’re becoming more human.

Growth happens when we figure these things out together. My own journey involves mentoring and consulting, so if you are unlearning your own professional challenges or in need of a sounding board, feel free to reach out. We can connect through ADPList. My schedule is updated, and it is pro bono for now.

Or, if you’d prefer to work with a professional coach, I’m happy to introduce you to a few people I trust who work in your timezone.

A peek at March

Thank you for spending February together! Next month, we’ll be celebrating International Women’s Day by discussing a new topic: Give to Gain. Often, we repress our own needs because we’re afraid of not being helpful. This leads many women to accept ad hoc tasks 50% more often than their male counterparts.

Together, we’ll explore how to be more strategic with your contributions and build the visibility you need to achieve your goals. What counts as non-promotable tasks? How to avoid attaching your worth to your output? How to share your wins without sounding boastful?

We’ll be joined by a special guest with over 25 years of experience in tech and leadership! She now helps leaders navigate burnout and identity shifts, and she’ll be sharing her story with us this March.

See you then,
Annisa 💙

It was another Tuesday, and Dawn was at home with her dog when that familiar notification tone detonated. All of a sudden, her heart hammered. She needed to see a doctor again. Things had gotten bad.

At the time, she was the VP of Customer Success at a scaling B2B tech company, a “homegrown” leader who had helped grow the business from $0 to $10M ARR.

So what happened?

The leadership dilemma: Job Vs. Self

Dawn was known by some as a Fearless Leader. She found it funny, because inside, she felt anything but fearless. She was caught between a board looking for their return, an exec team looking at revenue results, customers demanding more value, and a team that needed her support.

And for Dawn, providing support meant being an honest leader. One that values transparency and having every answer to every question, without showing a single crack.

But this created a painful problem: In a leadership position, “total honesty” is often seen as a risk. She was frequently privy to important information like budgets and market-sensitive information. She felt that at times this forced her to omit information from people she cared about.

When trying to be in control actually leads to burnout

Since Dawn felt she couldn’t be fully honest, she tried to be fully in control. Having been there since the early days, she felt a massive sense of ownership, which repeatedly meant she stopped delegating.

But carrying an entire department is heavy. Slowly, the pressure began to leak out. She noticed herself “batted down” in discussions. And instead of fighting for her ideas, she stayed quiet.

She tried to fix the problem by stepping down from her VP role to Director, and moving to a four-day work week. She thought a refocus on her Fridays would solve it, but the remedy failed.

It was like trying to patch a sinking ship with sticky tape. The environment hadn’t changed, and more importantly, the impossible expectations she placed on herself hadn’t changed either.

That single Slack message on a random Tuesday was her final straw.

How emotions in leadership impact the team

When Dawn eventually resigned, the news shocked the team. They had no idea she was drowning; she had spent so much energy keeping it all together. One colleague was struck by guilt, unable to understand how they had been so blind to her struggle.

We can only bottle up our emotions for so long before they leak out and poison the very environment we’re trying to stabilize. True leadership is about being real to ourselves first, and then to those we collaborate with.

Building the path forward: Tools that helped Dawn move forward

Dawn’s recovery meant moving beyond quick fixes to build a new foundation. Now an executive coach, she shares the same shifts that helped her find her footing again:

• If you’re experiencing a panic attack: Recalibrate in the Moment and use the 5-4-3-2-1 method. This sensory technique pulls your nervous system out of panic and back into the present.

  Watch this video to know the how-to:

• She also finds Mel Robbins’ Let Them Theory useful. It helps remind us that we can’t control anyone or anything around us. So the lesson is: we should focus on our own reactions to people and situations.

• For the longer run, identify your Saboteurs: Name the inner voices (the Judge, the Pleaser, the Avoider) that fuel negative emotions. Combine this with DISC Profiling to realize people are “different,” not “difficult.” This clarity is the key to setting boundaries that actually stick. and revisit these profiling tests, as you will inevitably change as a person over time.

While honesty remains Dawn’s core value, she has learned to navigate it with a more nuanced integrity. She realized that holding back sensitive information is a necessary part of balancing the needs of different stakeholders, and it does not mean dishonesty. By accepting those boundaries, she finally found the space to feel her emotions honestly.

Dawn is an Executive Coach based in the UK. Listen to her podcast, Seasons of Leadership, here, and read more about her work at dawnmurdencoaching.com.

✨ Exclusive offer for Healing Out Loud Subscribers ✨

Unlock 10% OFF coaching with Dawn!

I’m handing out exclusive discounts on her service bundles. Don’t miss out!
Comment “💙” or message me to claim yours now!

So what can actually happen when managers, as leaders, ignore their emotions?

Experience A: The “disciplined” manager

I once worked with a manager who publicly scolded their employees. This manager believed that professional discipline required suppressing empathy and vulnerability to get things done. However, by ignoring the underlying stress and frustration, the manager was prone to explosive outbursts. I remember a Teams call with 24 people where this manager screamed at an individual over a small mistake. That person resigned weeks after that incident.

This has been the culture since I joined the company. Little to no guidance was provided, yet demands for specific outcomes were high. And for those who fell short, public scolding awaited.

The Impact: The team was paralyzed by fear. When making mistakes leads to public shaming, we stop taking risks. We stop voicing concerns, repress our own emotions, and communication dies. Eventually, talents resign to escape the obnoxious aggression.

Experience B: The “cool” manager

In another role, I worked with a leader who was the opposite. They played the part of the "cool" manager who appeared grounded, and was the "nice" manager who accepted everyone and tolerated everything.

However, clear boundaries and honest critiques were lacking. The internal pressure on this leader heightened quietly until they simply "had enough." Eventually, a minor issue triggered a full-blown outburst during a private meeting. It was so intense, the yelling was heard clearly behind the closed doors. The persona this manager had built collapsed.

The Impact: The jarring switch-up from ‘cool’ to ‘explosive’ made the team anxious, which trapped them in groupthink to avoid future outbursts. The unpredictability caused us to doubt the manager’s sincerity, and the instability stalled our momentum.

What helped me understand these experiences

I realized both leaders struggled with the same thing: the inability to balance their personal affects for the team with the need for honest, direct feedback.

From reading Kim Scott’s book, Radical Candor, I changed how I looked at these dynamics. Her framework helped me put names to the patterns I saw.

When I looked at the two experiences through the lens of what I learned:

• Experience A was a textbook case of Obnoxious Aggression. It was all about “challenging directly” but with zero “personal care.” It created a culture of defensiveness.

• Experience B was what Scott calls Ruinous Empathy and happens when the manager is “too nice” to share the truth to avoid discomfort. While it feels like they’re protecting feelings, they actually prevent the other person from growing.

What I now look for in a leader

Looking back at the two experiences, the most important thing is to stay true to our own emotions. Not put up a persona of a “tough” boss or “nice” leader. Instead, provide candid feedback and conversations accordingly. Based on my own growth, here is what I’ve learned to value in leadership:

• Clarity over ego: Prioritizing guidance and a roadmap over exercising authority.

• Kindness over niceness: Choosing clear, direct feedback over vague or insincere praise.

• Emotional consistency: Understanding your own feelings for a more steady reactions, rather than hiding behind a disingenuous persona or losing temper.

When a leader is clear, kind, and consistent, the team stops second-guessing the leader’s moves and starts doing their best work. When these values are properly exercised, teams feel safe enough to take risks and grow together. Honesty helps the manager to be a better leader, and helps the team stay productive.

Final thoughts

Having been on both sides, whether with the manager as the yeller or the repressor, the result is the same: a team too nervous to perform. By practicing Radical Candor, we can move past "surviving" the office and actually create an environment where real and genuine growth is possible. Something I think everyone would benefit from.

While it’s easy to blame a bad work culture, the accountability starts with me.

I’m sharing what I learned so you don’t make the same mistakes I did.

The “Yes” that started my burnout

During my final days of a summer vacation, I received a text from my manager:

“Sorry to bother your PTO, but can you jump on a quick Zoom call? It’s not too urgent.”

The team was in the middle of a $500,000 project where I purposefully requested a minor role because my vacation was coming up. But on that call, the tone changed:

“When are you coming back? We need more help from you.”

Feeling like I owed the team for the vacation, I said “yes, absolutely” without thinking of my own boundaries.

When I got back, the situation was worse than I thought. The project hadn’t moved since I left, and the deadline was only 21 days away. Because I said “yes,” I was now the person who had to clear out the mess.

I had to rebuild the project’s foundation, creating the stability the team needed to finally step in and fulfill their roles.

For the next few weeks (three to be exact), I hid how I really felt. We were all too busy playing catch-up anyway. On average, I spent 10 hours a day working to get us back to baseline.

In the office, I feigned smiles and told leadership it was “no problem,” but inside, I was resentful about the lack of planning. My mouth was kept shut because I didn’t want to be seen as “difficult.” But every time I took on a new task, I lost respect for the company.

I carried the weight of a promise I never should have made. My body felt the stress right away: night sweats, irritability, waking up at 4 AM with rushing thoughts of spreadsheets.

The project launched. It was a major success. We got industry praise and recognition from global leaders. On the outside, we looked like heroes. On the inside, I lost myself.

The resentment I had suppressed just to “get the job done” curdled into toxic bitterness. Something I swore to never become. The outcome was inevitable: I resigned a year later.

While the exit was painful, it served as a necessary catalyst for evaluating where my own strategy had failed me.

What I should’ve done

Looking back, I realized I had made three big mistakes. If I could go back, this is how I would handle it:

1. Stay Composed, Don’t React: I reacted instinctively to the team’s chaos because I wanted to be the “fixer.” If I had stayed composed, I could have paused, asked questions, and set realistic expectations instead of absorbing their panic as my own.

2. Stop Confusing Niceness with Conflict Avoidance: I wasn’t being nice; I was being quiet because I was afraid of the friction that comes with setting a boundary. By suppressing my “no,” I gave everyone a version of me that was eventually going to snap. Professionalism is when you are courageous enough to be uncomfortable.

3. Setting Emotional Boundaries: I took accountability for the feelings of my stakeholders. I didn’t want them stressed, so I took that stress onto myself. I’ve learned that you can be a high-performer without being an emotional sponge. You are paid for your output, not for the sacrifice.

Having a passion for a career is a gift. It motivates you and your team, it leads you to new heights, gives you exposure, and eventually a promotion. But do it without a strategy, and it leads you to sacrifice your peace.

I’ve finally learned that while I can contribute my skills to save a half-million-dollar investment, it is never worth bankrupting my own nervous system to do it.

But perfectionism can be a strength if you change your relationship with it. It’s about moving from fear-based habits to the intentional choice of excellence.

So the next time you’re at work, and you feel yourself falling back into old habits, it’s okay. Approach it with curiosity, ask yourself these questions, and reflect.

5 Questions to turn perfectionism into strength:

1. Is this pressure to be perfect coming from someone else, or is it coming from me?

• If it’s external, it usually comes from a manager or a client. Use your next 1:1 to align on expectations and clarify exactly what a successful outcome looks like for them.

• If it’s internal: Remember that you are the one holding the pressure. You have the choice to turn it off.

2. What am I trying to achieve (or avoid) by being “perfect” right now?

• Serving the project: Does this extra effort actually help the business or the final result?

• Serving the ego: Are you trying to avoid the feeling of “not good enough”? Excellence focuses on doing a great job, while perfectionism is usually just a way to stay safe from judgment.

3. What is the worst thing that could happen if it were “great” instead of “perfect”?

• The risk: Will a tiny typo cause a crisis? If not, it’s likely not worth the stress.

• The trade-off: If the price of being “perfect” is burnout, chronic stress, or physical exhaustion, it is not sustainable for your career. Set a firm limit on how much time and energy you give to a single task.

4. Am I expecting everyone else to be perfect too?

• The impact to culture: Perfectionism is contagious and often toxic. with perfectionism, you risk creating a culture revolved around “survival mode” that could make your team afraid of mistakes which lowers innovation .

5. Does perfecting the details bring me closer to my long-term career goals?

• In short term: It’s easier to stay in “fixing mode” than to put yourself out there. Continuously revising things feels safe because as long as the work isn’t “finished,” it can’t be judged.

• But in the long term: Real career growth is built on visibility and impact, not hidden polish. Don’t let a minor detail stop you from showing up, being heard, and moving forward.

Subscribe now

From survival to leadership

We develop coping mechanisms to protect ourselves from psychological harm. But as we grow, these mechanisms need to be updated and sometimes unlearned. And this is what we’re trying to do together with Healing Out Loud.

Taking a career break has opened up a lot of space for me to question my previous conditioning: figuring out what to keep, what to improve, and what to let go of entirely. And I’m not here to judge the past, but to encourage myself in building space for new ways of growing and leading.

There is a special kind of growth that only happens when we help one another. And so part of this journey for me is through mentoring and consulting. If you’re navigating your own pivot or need a sounding board, you’re more than welcome to reach out. We can connect through ADPList at the link below. My schedule is always updated, and it’s pro bono for now.

Schedule a 1:1 Session

What’s in February

Thank you for spending January with me unlearning perfectionism. Coming up in February, we’ll be discussing emotions in leadership. How do we lead when we are emotional? Does becoming a leader mean we should stop feeling? How do we use empathy as a strategy?

We’ll be joined by a special guest who journeyed from journalism to a VP role in tech before becoming a coach. Together, we’ll explore what it actually looks like to lead with empathy, learning how to navigate big emotions at work instead of hiding them behind a professional mask.

See you then.

Annisa 💙

In my years of mentoring students and consulting for leaders, I’ve realized this critical voice is ever-present. We try to be perfect for everyone, thinking that if we just achieve enough, our inner critic will finally go quiet. But what we don’t realize is that perfectionism isn’t always about high standards, it is often a survival reflex stemming from our past.

To understand what, why, and how to unlearn, I sat down with Anette Kilefors. She’s a psychotherapist based in Sweden with over 20 years of experience helping individuals, couples, and families navigate the challenges of being a human.

Healthy vs. Maladaptive Perfectionism

Not all perfectionism is bad. It drives us toward our goals and higher standards of excellence. However, there is a fine line between it being a tool for growth or a burden that holds back said growth. According to Anette, the difference lies in our relationship with rest.

• Healthy perfectionism feels like a choice. You can decide when you want to lean into it and direct it toward the areas of your life that matter. You enjoy the process, and while you want to do well, your identity isn’t crushed if you fall short.

• Maladaptive perfectionism feels like a necessity. You use it like a shield. You can’t take it off without feeling a sense of guilt. Because you aren’t working toward a goal, you’re running away from the feeling of inadequacy.

“We believe that high performance equals stability,” Anette explained. “But frequently, that drive is actually a maladaptive coping mechanism. We keep moving because we’re afraid that if we stop, we’ll have to face the quiet fear that we aren’t enough just as we are.”

Why do we feel the need to be perfect?

When I asked Anette if she had ever felt this pressure herself, her answer was immediate. “Of course! Growing up in an anxious environment, I felt the pressure to be high-functioning, to always be perfect.”

Driven by her mother’s projections, Anette maintained a “polished exterior” in a career she wasn’t passionate about, to avoid disappointment. Eventually, the pressure of impossible standards led to burnout and a long sick leave. It was through this crisis that she found her true path in psychology and helped turn her breakdown into a breakthrough.

Like my own experience with my tiger mother, our upbringing highlights the “why” behind maladaptive perfectionism. It’s not caused just by the desire for quality. Instead, it is usually a complex mix of environmental, psychological, and even genetic factors, often rooted in childhood.

But let’s pause here for a second and realize: this isn’t anyone’s fault. It isn’t our fault, and it isn’t our parents’ fault, either. We are all simply doing the best we can with the tools and the understanding we were given at the time.

The spiral of growth: unlearning perfectionism

It takes years to undo the aftermath of perfectionism. Burnout and anxiety take time to heal. Anette told me something that brought me comfort:

She continued, “and as you develop and understand yourself better, you build a resilience that allows life’s inevitable sorrows to touch you without breaking you.”

Anette reminds us that even when we spend all our energy trying to be perfect to avoid trouble, a crisis is still inevitable. And according to her, these moments are not setbacks; they are what move us forward in the larger picture.

“Sometimes you feel like you’re back in the same dark place you were a year ago,” she says. “You think, ‘I’m stuck. I haven’t learned anything.’ But often you aren’t stuck. You’ve just come around the curve of the spiral. You’re at the same point, but you’re one level higher. You see the problem with more clarity now. You have more and better tools.”

Tools to help us move forward

Before finishing, I asked Anette for tools to help us through this journey of unlearning the need to be perfect. Here are some of the few she shared:

• Silence the critic with self-compassion: Perfectionism is expressed by a harsh inner voice that demands impossible results. She advises us to talk to ourselves the same way we do to a friend. If a friend was exhausted, we wouldn’t demand them to push even more. We should give ourselves the same compassion.

• Somatic Release of the “Perfect” Mask: We can’t think our way out of the tension caused by trying to hold everything together. Use deep “stomach breaths” or a walk in nature to release the physical grip of perfectionism and tell the body it is safe to relax.

• Journaling: Use notes to track growth, not just goals. Looking back at entries from years ago allows us to see the progress we’ve made within the spiral. It helps us realize that while you aren’t “perfect,” you have certainly grown.

As we closed the talk, Anette reminded me that every time we choose compassion over perfection, we are moving the spiral upward. “You are worthy of a calm life, even while you are still a work in progress,” she said.

Anette Kilefors is a licensed psychotherapist based in Helsingborg, Sweden. You can find more of her work and insights at psykoterapihelsingborg.se.

Not the type of perfect that strives for excellence. More so the type that meant being frictionless -easy for others to manage. I learned that to be less than perfect was to be an inconvenience, or simply “too much.”

Fifteen years later, I became the go-to person whenever there was an urgent issue. Sundays and holidays disappeared for just two hours of work. I ensured everyone else had a seamless experience working with the ‘reliable’ me.

See how I carried that belief into my career?

The Performance of Indispensability

Climbing the corporate ladder, I was convinced that I was a high-performing individual. Piling my plate with work beyond my scope for the sake of “growth and exposure.”

The peak of this performance was a $500,000 project that had been five months in the making. Three weeks before the launch, a massive oversight by another team member threatened to tank the investment. While the wreckage wasn’t mine to clean, I stepped in anyway. I compressed five months of strategic work into twenty-one sleepless days. I fixed the errors, smoothed over the stakeholders, and delivered.

The project was a success. But as the “congratulations” emails rolled in, that’s when it clicked. I wasn’t a hero. I was just a professional people-pleaser disguising myself as a high-performer.

When my body said “enough”

Eventually my body gave up. It started with prolonged, unexplained fatigue, hair loss and irritability that I couldn’t control. I felt as though I wasn’t in my body.

Searching for a medical label to justify the collapse, I scheduled a health check.

The results came back almost perfect. There was only one significant inflammation marker. When the doctor asked, “Are you stressed?” I nodded hesitantly. She said, “Try to relax a little bit and let your nervous system rest.”

The cost of self-betrayal

That inflammation marker was the only physical evidence of the turmoil inside me. The test results made me realize that this wasn’t a sickness I could cure with medicine. It was the relentless labor of being “unrealistically perfect” finally catching up.

It took me a while to name the root cause: self-betrayal. For me, perfectionism was never about quality; it was people-pleasing masked as reliability. It was a defense mechanism I built in childhood as a way to ensure I was never a “nuisance.”

If being perfect costs you your truth, the price is too high.

Healing out loud

Now, I am beginning the long journey of unlearning. I am dismantling the belief that my self-worth is tied to how I make others feel in my space.

I’m taking it step by step: accepting the discomfort of a mistake, letting “no” be a full sentence, and saying what I actually think instead of making myself small to fit the room.

By doing this, I am not retiring my ambitions. Instead, I am choosing to approach them with internal alignment rather than external validation.

I spent years being the “frictionless” child and the “reliable” employee, keeping my struggles quiet so I wouldn’t be an inconvenience. But silence is where self-betrayal lives. By setting boundaries and allowing myself to be seen in my imperfection, I am finding my voice again.

I’m no longer interested in being the most reliable person in the room if it means being a stranger to myself.

I’m ready to be heard. I’m healing out loud

That’s the question that’s been sitting in your chest since that thing happened in 2025. The role that went to someone else, the project that stalled, or the recognition that never arrived. It’s the kind of experience that keeps you up, replaying the tape, the heat of anxiety, and the weight of disappointment.

But what if that thing that happened wasn’t actually “bad”? Or “good”?

This isn’t about the cliché of “everything happens for a reason.” It’s a deeper question: what if you didn’t label it at all?

Because if the pattern isn’t clear yet: the “bad” and the “good” aren’t things that happen to you. They are judgments given to the experience. The event itself is neutral.

The comfort of labels

In the late 1800s, merchants in Paris had a problem: without fixed prices, no one could agree on what anything was worth. Every transaction was a messy negotiation. To fix the chaos, they introduced labels. It was a simple way to remove uncertainty.

Since then, there has been a growing expectation to find a label on everything: feelings, identities, experiences. “My life is boring.” “Your party was fun.” “That job was a disaster.” These labels are tempting because they provide a script. If a missed promotion is labeled as “bad,” the reaction is pre-written: you get to be upset, you feel like a victim and you stop trying.

But should there a limit to that comfort?

In the pursuit of big ambitions, it is easy to mistake a redirection for a rejection. We pin labels like uncreative or not resilient as if they were permanent tattoos rather than temporary situations. But those labels are heavy and they turn a singular moment into a life sentence. Sure, removing the label doesn’t change what happened, but it changes how much weight must be carried into the next day.

Let’s take a second to pause and strip off the labels

Think of a major bad experience that has happened to you in 2025. Now finish this sentence without using the words “good” or “bad.”

Really resist the urge to label it with an adjective.

“In 2025, _____________ happened. What was learned is _____________.”

Do you notice any difference in how you feel about that particular experience? If yes, that’s great! You’re just acknowledging that something occurred, and you moved through it.

Because the truth is, 2025 happened. Some of it was hard, some of it was beautiful. Most of it was both at the same time. And maybe, just maybe, some of it might have felt heavier than it needed to because of the weight of the label you give.

So as we enter 2026, give your experiences a second chance by not labeling them. It takes practice. But it could help you build something peaceful.

Happy new year.

Hi everyone, Annisa here. This is the final reflection of 2025. Thank you so much for supporting Healing Out Loud. This space exists because you show up for it.

Next year, the publication is evolving. There will be stories from others in the community and frameworks to help with reflection and healing. If there is a story to share as a guest contributor, or if there’s a specific topic to be raised, please hit reply or send a message. All feedback is welcome.

Start Survey

Wishing you a peaceful holiday. See you in 2026.

We’ll never be ready; ready comes to you step by step. The time will never feel right. Your dream doesn’t happen as a breakthrough over one night, but a result of compounding effort. Some days your effort is 150%, some days 20%. Some days 0%. that’s okay, because progress isn’t linear.

Here’s the thing: the universe rewards the courage and audacity to show up.

Your dream doesn’t happen to you or for you. Your dream happens through individual effort, belief in yourself, asking for help, pausing when you need to, and making space for what’s trying to emerge.

You can’t rush the shedding

To achieve big, you have to bear the responsibility of that big dream. This means shedding old beliefs to make room for new ones.

Your old beliefs helped you get here. They moved you from “I can’t” to “I can.” But to go further, you need new beliefs. And eventually, even those will need to be shed, the cycle continues.

We cannot skip the shedding. Part of making the dream happen is letting go of the old and making space for the new. It won’t always look beautiful and it definitely won’t be comfortable. But it will take you closer to where you actually want to be. There is simply no other way around it.

The point is to feel content with your own pace during this shedding period. Not performing, not comparing. Just authentically you, doing the work only you can do.

Let’s pause for a second and build your path

Dreaming big without a plan is wishful thinking. It’s blind. Dreaming big without effort is fantasy.

Some people will have advantages you don’t, some will reach their dreams faster, and that’s the reality. But the more you focus on their journey, the less energy you have for yours. Because comparison is the thief of joy.

You, as an individual, are of a unique quality.

Which means your path to your dream will also be completely unique, your own.

So let’s pause here and ask yourself:

• Why do I want this dream? What would it mean to me if it came true?

• What are 3 things I need to prioritize to get closer - and how long will it realistically take?

• What small efforts can I commit to weekly that will move these priorities forward?

The dream chose you. Now choose it back, one imperfect step at a time.

You are ready to achieve it the moment you dream it.

By the time we hit our late 20s or early 30s, something becomes painfully obvious: Growing is exhausting. Because so much of it is shaped by expectations that aren’t ours. And it raises the question we often avoid asking:

Am I growing for myself, or performing growth for everyone else?

Number’s trap: The quantitative growth

Everything quantified by data is always more respected than what isn’t. The status quo is driven by numbers, validated by numbers, and we live by the numbers that ‘makes us’ interesting.

Remember that last family gathering you went to? Your beloved aunt came to sit next to you and asked how you were doing, followed by a series of questions like:

How old are you now? Are you not married yet? How many years have you been working? What’s your job title? How much do you earn?

Familiar with the game?

Inherently, there’s nothing wrong by being lead by numbers. They give us measurable targets, milestones, proof we’re moving forward. But here’s what we don’t want: mistaking numbers as your identity. You, as an individual, are of a unique quality. Numbers are not.

By letting numbers define your identity you avoid the important question: Am I actually progressing toward something that matters to me? Or what’s important for show?

“Should I be happy when I have made 1 million or 1 billion?” You need a qualitative judgement to make the call. Numbers can go up forever. When is it enough?

Measurable growth feels safe and convenient because in a way anyone can understand it easily. It’s also more comfortable because you don’t have to confront the quieter, harder, internal progress. And that kind of progress doesn’t come with a trophy or a LinkedIn post.

But when was the last time you felt proud or appreciated for your progress? Or, better yet, when was the last time when you didn’t need to be validated by likes or shares?

Many can’t remember. It is only through letting our unique qualities shine through that we can become ourselves. That’s what real progress looks like.

Let’s pause for a second and reflect

Growth without intention is just motion. Growth without meaning is performance. Progress (even quiet, slow, invisible) is the real work.

You’re allowed to stop sprinting. You’re allowed to choose progress over performance. Growth is not something you owe anyone. And when it’s aligned with who you’re becoming rather than who you’re supposed to be, that’s when growth becomes power.

So now, ask yourself these set of questions and write down your answer on a journal or note:

• What progress do you think you’ve made this year? What version of yourself are you closer to becoming?

• What quantitative growth have you had this year that actually meant something to you (not just looked good on paper)?

And then let’s sit with this for a second.

Do you realize how far you’ve actually come?

Because at the age of two or three, you’re expected to play with blocks correctly, speak, and say the occasional “ma ma” or “da da”. And only then can you make your parents proud.

The moment you start talking properly is the moment your entire world and life is molded for you. Your parents probably already have an idea of what you should study in university, where you should go.

This is such a privilege for a lot of people though. Because not many were born ‘wanted’ or into a family that ‘plans’. And these plans also come from ancestral expectations -maybe a part of our ‘survival of the fittest’ strategy. Only now, “fittest” means how much money you make.

By primary school, straight As become the bare minimum. You’re expected to excel, impress, and push through every checkpoint until you land in university. And by the time you’re 21–23, you’re a product of years of conditioning. So you stand out the “right way”: graduate with honors, get a shiny job in a multinational, join the rat race like you were taught.

You climb because it’s what ambitious adults do. But once you get there, under the harsh fluorescent lights, surrounded by performance reviews and quiet competition, the loneliness hits. You start seeing the game for what it is: everyone scrambling to be above someone else, including you. And all of it fueled by the same thought: This will make my parents proud.

But you start to think: is this really what makes me proud of myself? A part of you says yes, but another part starts to question the status quo. Why is someone twice your age feeling threatened by your ambitions? And why are you so triggered by it?

And then you hit your mid-20s -well, maybe to be precise, 27 years old, your frontal lobe fully develops and those rose-colored glasses wear out. Welcome to the reality of the grind.

You no longer question the status quo; you resent it. Every day in and out is the same cycle. Days start to blur and routines repeat. You start noticing things you once ignored:
Why is the cleaner wiping the same concrete highway every day?
Why does the airport porter work with such urgency?
Where are your taxes actually going?

And while those questions swirl, your body starts sending signals you can’t ignore: random aches, migraines like tides, fatigue that makes no logical sense. The truth breaks through: you’re burnt out. Your body is begging you to step away and unplug. You need to quit the survival mode.

Because after what seemed to be 27 years you’ve been grinding, you wonder: for whom? For what? More money to feel “slightly better” than someone else? More power to do what, exactly?

So you stop looking up. You start looking around. And you realize you’re blessed in ways you never stopped to acknowledge:

You have a body, though tired it still carries you.
You can give and receive love, even if your family is messy, complicated, human.
You can feed yourself today, and probably for years to come.

And suddenly you see it: you’ve been taught to look only at what you lack, never at what you have. Society told you the goal was always “more,” so you never learned the meaning of “enough.”

But it takes you this far to understand that word. And it’s not too late. At the ripe age of 30, you’re unlearning old beliefs and re-learning what it means to live.

If you’ve read this far and you feel something, welcome.
You’re awake now.

So here’s the real question:
Do you want to be yourself and brave uncertainty?
Or do you want to stay molded, predictable, and safe?

Either way, you’re not alone.
Let’s heal out loud.

Also seen on Medium