For a lot of us, getting recognized for an achievement is a dopamine hit. It makes us feel good. And when you’ve been a high achiever your whole life, that dopamine hit feels essential.

My guest today, investor and entrepreneur Andy Johns, experienced a lot of trauma as a child. Looking back, he says, “When I was struggling as a child, feeling sad and depressed and having panic attacks and a low level of constant anxiety, I actually turned to performance and achievement as a drug of sorts.”

Andy continues, “I got every blue ribbon or every trophy, or I hit home runs, or I got straight A's or whatever it was that made me feel good because I didn't always feel good. But when I did those things, I felt good and I felt lovable. My brain, as a kid, came to internalize the collection of messages around me, in conjunction with the messages that society gives, that if I achieved, I was lovable. And if I wasn't achieving, I wasn't inherently lovable for who I was."

"And so my story as an adult has basically been about achieving at the highest level that I could imagine for myself, but then eventually waking up to realize that seeking external validation through achievement needed to stop, because it was a sign of not feeling inherently lovable for who I was.”

When Andy did a tremendous amount of therapy and work on himself, he was able step back from his “relentless drive to just keep doing more, because I was able to look at myself and say, you know what, I love who I am for who I am, as imperfect as I am, and I don't need to achieve on this level anymore. And so, I walked away from my career at the peak of it. And I just quit it all. I left it all behind and, and that was probably the best thing I ever did for myself. 'Cause it was the ultimate sign of love was to say, Andy, you've done enough. Just let it go.”

Andy freely admits he felt a great tension between achievement and self love. He had to learn to love himself minus the achievement. It was worth it, he says, because you often don’t feel very good between those dopamine hits.

I don’t know about you, but I can so deeply relate to Andy’s story (minus his major Silicon Valley payday, unfortunately). I’m still seeking the trophy. My mom has been staying with me for a few days, and even though she is 80 and I’m almost 46, I want to tell her about my recent achievements, just like I would when I was in high school or at my first job and got a compliment from my boss. I don’t even know why I want to tell her, but I do. 

I’m practicing and have been actively resisting telling her. And instead, she’s picking up my incredible stress and asking me, “Why do you work so hard?” And: “Why does it have to be hot yoga? Can’t it just be nice yoga?” (She has a point there.) She doesn’t want to hear about my trophies. She wants me to be happier.

I’m lucky to have people in my life who don’t care about my trophies and who truly want me to be less anxious and stressed. My work is listening to them and not my own internalized anxious achiever.

I’m curious, what’s worked for you? Are you still chasing the trophies, and if so, are you at peace with it?