You're efforting too hard

And it’s getting in the way of you creating the life you want.

I’ve seen it happen time and time again with my clients.

It starts as a spark in their eyes, when they first commit to working with me. They’ve decided to finally go after creating the life they want — and they throw themselves at it with everything they’ve got. They seek resources to read, diligently prepare for every call, religiously complete their homework, and seek to eke out every ounce of value from each call.

The efforting lasts anywhere from a few weeks to a half year.

But at some point, something shifts.

They don’t send that email. They don’t complete their challenge. They ask to push back a call.

Sometimes, they become even more laser focused on succeeding than before, coming in with more intense agendas and pushing for the next task to do.

Overall, they become more tight, more closed off, more distant — until that one call where everything breaks open.

Maybe I’ve asked them to, once again, slow things down. Or maybe I’ve asked them, what are you not saying?

I just can’t do this anymore!

Out comes all the frustration — at their lack of outward progress, at not knowing why things aren’t working, at themselves for falling short.

And mixed into all that frustration is shame, guilt, and self-criticism.

This is a critical moment in their journey because it’s when they finally have to come to terms with three things:

1. They’re fucking tired.

2. This level of efforting is not sustainable.

3. If they’re going to stick to this journey of growth, something has to change.

This is efforting burnout.

It’s not unique to coaching. Efforting burnout happens in school, work environments, friendships, therapy. It’s the kind of behavior our society rewards us for, because it works great in the short term — for tests, for grinding it out in corporate for a few years, for winning races in science, tech, and business.

But when you want to build towards lifelong change, efforting stops working.

To be in it for the long term, you have to learn and adopt a totally different approach.

My experience with efforting burnout

For anyone that even remotely knows me, you know that, for my whole life, I’ve been the queen of efforting.

Efforting has been my favorite tool in my toolbox.

So when I set out to create the life I wanted for myself, efforting was my tool of choice.

I used it in my biz building efforts, in my relationship, in my writing practice, in my learning environments.

But I just couldn’t keep any momentum going longer than a few weeks. I’d inevitably end up feeling disillusioned, fed up, and too tired to continue going forward.

That’s when I’d quit. I’d quit working with a coach, questioning the value of our work. I’d started hating on couples therapy. I’d continuously wonder if I actually had what it took to create my own path.

Things weren’t working, but I also didn’t know any other way.

During my second call with my current 1:1 coach, she paused me after asking how I was.

Kelly, it occurs to me that you’re quite exhausted.

What??

I bristled at the thought. What was she talking about? I was totally fine. Besides, I didn’t have time for this. I was here to get shit done on this struggly business of mine.

But as I slowed down and tuned into my body, I could feel it. She was right. I was fucking tired. There were so many thoughts racing in my head, and all I could feel was an all-encompassing dread and panic around my business.

Kelly, what if it didn’t have to be this way?

I paused.

What if trying didn’t have to be so exhausting?

What if it could be light?

Less forced?

More fun?

I felt myself instantly constrict.

While my method obviously sucked, here was the truth: I didn’t trust any other system to work. Leading with lightness sounded like fantasyland. While it sounded good in theory, to let go of efforting felt like I was just going to set myself up for epic failure. Could something better actually exist?

To which my coach responded:

Are you willing to find out?

I sat on it for a week before deciding: yes. I had been on this efforting train long enough. It was time to find out.

Okay, efforting isn’t great — but what was the real cost?

I first started by paying closer attention to where in my life I was efforting, and how it felt.

Once I started paying attention, I started seeing it everywhere.

It was in my coaching conversations, where I felt like I needed to deliver electrifying insight at all costs.

It was in my friendships, where I tried so hard to be social and curious and “on.”

It was in my relationship, where I was constantly trying to anticipate needs and fix conflicts right away.

It was even in the way that I learned, pressuring myself to finish a book cover to cover before moving on.

I could see that my efforting was coming from a place of deep care — and yet, that very care was crippling me.

Client calls and hangouts left me feeling utterly spent.

I avoided reaching out to potential clients and friends because I was afraid of the emotional load.

I was so vigilant in my relationship that things had stopped feeling joyful and fun.

I bookmarked anything — any email, book, or resource — I didn’t think I could fully engage with at that moment (which made for a very stressfully long reading list).

My intense commitment to caring was costing me the very relationships and business I wanted to nurture in my life.

What I found out

For the past half year, I’ve been experimenting with what efforting could look like instead. When something was feeling heavy, I’d slow down and consider: how might this hold an opportunity for something to shift?

• What if, instead of forcing insights and wisdom, I was just present with my client?

• What if, instead of forcing myself to be “productive” and thinking through something while I was on a walk, I just let myself walk and my thoughts drift?

• What if, instead of tackling my to-do list, I allowed myself to write and dance and loosen up first?

• What if, instead of being “on,” I revealed to my friends where I was at and just let myself be there with them?

• What if, instead of fixing all the time, I allowed time for my partner and me to play?

• What if things didn’t always have to be so professional and serious?

To someone like me who is used to controlling everything, this way of being was terrifying. Because what it really did was force me to consider the idea that me at my baseline could be enough.

Those first few times of allowing my real self through were scary. It’s scary not knowing how it might be received.

But what I found was that this way of being was actually more than enough. My insights were actually better when I was focused on the client and not on my own ego. Creating space in my life for dots to connect worked better than forcing myself to sit at a computer ever did. Being real with my friends created friendships that I finally felt like I could really relax into.

I can’t say that I’ve figured it all out, but these days, things feel looser. I feel more calm. There’s more trust within myself. And for the first time, I feel like I could work on this business for years to come. Sure, I’ll still find myself getting really tense and caught up in efforting from time to time, but I now know I can choose for it to be another way.

So for all my fellow efforters out there: I encourage you to consider that there may be another way.

A way that isn’t so hard.

A way that is lighter, more playful, easier — and that is actually more effective.

Because what I’ve found is that efforting less isn’t just a nice to have. It’s necessary to be able to build anything for the long term.