The Self-Worth Trap: Why You Never Feel Like You're Enough

The Endless Chase for Self-Worth

I’ve lived most of my life feeling like I had something to prove, like I had to earn my place in the world.

I would convince myself that once I reached a certain milestone — ran a personal best, got recognition, created financial freedom — then I could finally relax, finally feel worthy.

But that moment never came.

No matter how much I achieved, the feeling of not being enough never really went away.

Each success provided a brief high, a fleeting sense of validation, before I found myself right back where I started.

My mind would tell me: you just need to do more, be more, achieve more.

I was in a constant state of striving, without ever arriving.

And so, I would chase the next thing, hoping this would be the one that finally made me feel like I was enough.

This is the Self-Worth Trap — the belief that your worth isn’t inherent, but something you have to earn.

It’s a game where no matter how hard you try, you never win.

The irony is, this mindset often makes people high achievers. It fuels ambition, drive, and relentless pursuit of success.

But beneath it all, there’s a cost: the inability to ever truly rest, to feel whole, to be at peace with who you are in this very moment.

I know this through experience, as for years I was stuck in this cycle — through sports, through poker, through my social life, through my work.

I was always chasing, always trying to earn the right to feel like I was enough.

Today, I want to take you through my personal journey — the times I felt like I wasn’t enough, the ways I tried to prove my worth, and how this cycle played out in different areas of my life.

My Personal Struggles with Self-Worth

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been searching for something — some kind of proof that I was worthy.

I didn’t recognise it at the time, but looking back, I can see how my self-worth was always tied to external validation.

It wasn’t just a feeling of not being enough — it was the belief that I had to do something to become enough.

And so, I kept searching.

I kept changing the object of my self-worth, but the underlying feeling never really changed.

The first place I looked for it was in achievement.

And in my world, achievement meant running.

Stage 1: Chasing Worth Through Running

I grew up in a family of runners. My dad had competed in middle-distance running, my sister dominated in sprinting, and my brother excelled at the 400m and 800m.

Running wasn’t just a sport — it was the currency of recognition in my house.

And as the youngest of the family, I wanted my share of it.

From the age of 11, I trained four times a week at my local running club, pouring everything into becoming a better runner. Most weekends, we traveled across the country as a family for races, and I tied my identity to my results.

Every race felt like a test, not just of my fitness, but of my worth.

If I ran well, I was on top of the world. My dad was proud, I got attention, and for a brief moment, I felt like I mattered.

But those moments were rare.

In training, I often felt unstoppable. I would push myself to my limits and often keep up with the best runners in my age group. But when race day came, everything changed. The pressure consumed me. The expectations weighed on me. My legs felt heavy before the gun even fired.

And when the race started, I ran with fear instead of confidence — going out too fast, burning out, watching helplessly as runners went past me.

Meanwhile, my siblings made it look easy. My sister dominated the track for over a decade, the undisputed best sprinter in the North East of England. My brother, who barely seemed to train, won races effortlessly with his long gliding stride.

And then there was me. Fighting, grinding, pushing myself to the limit — only to fall short time and time again.

I sacrificed a lot for running. I missed out on parties, socialising, and the usual teenage experiences.

All in the hope that one day, I would prove myself.

That I would finally have my moment. That I would finally be enough.

Yet even when I had glimpses of success, the feeling never lasted. There was always another race, another challenge, another thing to prove.

At some point, I realised I would never become the runner I had dreamed of being. But instead of questioning why I felt the need to prove myself in the first place, I just looked for a new way to do it.

If I couldn’t be the fastest, then I had to find something else. Another way to prove myself. Another way to feel enough.

And when I left home for university, I found it in a different form: not through achievement, but through fitting it.

Stage 2: Searching for Worth in Social Approval

At 18, I moved to a new city for university. It was a fresh start, a chance to reinvent myself. After years of chasing worth through competition, I was tired of the pressure.

I wanted to let go, to be free — but I didn’t know how to just be myself.

And so, without realising it, I transitioned from tying my self-worth to achievement (running) to tying it to social validation.

Instead of proving myself through sport, I wanted to prove myself through being liked, fitting in, and becoming socially accepted.

Running took a backseat to partying. I went out drinking three to four nights a week, chasing the next big night out with friends. The thrill of social approval replaced the thrill of competition.

For the first time, I felt free. No early training sessions, no strict discipline — just the rush of spontaneity, of being surrounded by people, of feeling like I belonged.

But in reality, I had just replaced one treadmill for another.

Now, instead of obsessing over race times, I obsessed over social status.

Did people like me?

Was I funny enough?

Was I confident enough?

Did I have enough interesting stories to tell?

I was no longer chasing medals, but the stakes felt just as high.

I thought that by drinking more, partying more, and being more extroverted, I could finally feel worthy.

But just like running, it never lasted.

The hangovers were brutal. The anxiety the morning after was even worse.

At times I’d lie in bed replaying conversations, worrying about how I came across, questioning whether I had made a fool of myself.

And after university, when the party lifestyle started to fade, I was left with the same question I had been running from:

What makes me enough?

I still needed a way to prove myself, a way to measure my value. And that’s when I found poker.

A new scoreboard. A new test of worthiness.

Stage 3: Poker Becomes My New Scoreboard

After university, poker became my life. And without realising it, I shifted back into achievement-based self-worth.

In poker, I found a new way to prove myself. The game rewarded intelligence, discipline, and work ethic — all qualities I prided myself on.

And just like running, I tied my entire identity to how well I performed.

Winning was everything. If I won, I felt on top of the world. I was good. I was valuable. I was worthy.

I prided myself on being relentless. Ten-hour grinding days became my norm. I pushed harder, studied deeper, analysed every hand, convinced that if I just worked harder than everyone else, I would prove myself.

I wasn’t just playing for money — I was playing for validation.

But after a while, that wasn't enough .

In order to really prove my worth, I had to play the highest stakes against the best players in my format — and win.

So that became my next mission.

A one that would be harder to achieve than I had imagined.

After five years of grinding, I finally 'arrived.' I had battled the best, earned their respect, and reached the peak of my format. The players that once intimidated me now avoided me — I was one of those players nobody wanted to challenge.

This was it. The moment I had worked for. The peak of the mountain I had spent years climbing.

I had battled the best. Earned their respect. Reached the top.

And yet, when I got there, I felt nothing.

No moment of arrival. No deep satisfaction. Just the same feelings of lack, waiting for me at the top.

I spent a few years playing the highest stakes and cashing in on the skill set I'd worked hard on developing.

Yet it become harder and harder to pretend that this game I was good at, was ever going to make me feel enough.

I needed something else. Another way to chase worth. Another way to prove I mattered.

And that’s when I found coaching.

Stage 4: Proving My Worth as a Coach

At first, it felt different. It wasn’t about winning, money, or competition — it was about helping people. And that made it seem like I had finally found something meaningful.

Yet soon, the pattern repeated itself.

Now, my self-worth wasn’t about my achievements in poker, it was about how much value I could provide to others.

And with that came a new pressure, one I hadn’t anticipated.

I had to be the smartest. The most knowledgeable. The one with all the answers.

If I could help someone break through a mental barrier, I felt incredible.

But if someone questioned my ideas, if I didn’t know the answer, or if I couldn’t help someone, I felt inadequate — like I had failed at the one thing that gave me worth.

For a while, I didn’t even notice I was caught in the same pattern. Coaching felt like a higher pursuit than poker, like I had evolved past the need to prove myself.

But the same pattern was still running in the background.

Instead of proving myself through winning, I was proving myself through being valuable. Instead of chasing results, I was chasing validation in a different form.

I wasn’t free. I had just changed the rules of the same game.

The Truth I Had Spent My Whole Life Avoiding

This is the Self-Worth Trap.

It had never been about running, poker, social validation, or coaching. It was never about the thing I was chasing.

The real trap was believing I had to chase something at all.

Believing that if I just did enough — worked harder, achieved more, gained more approval — then one day, I would finally feel worthy.

But the truth I had spent my whole life avoiding was this:

Self-worth isn’t earned.

It’s realised.

The Trap: Why We Never Feel Enough

This realisation changed everything for me.

But it also made me wonder, why do so many of us fall into this trap in the first place?

The reason is simple: we’ve been conditioned to believe that self-worth is something we have to earn.

At the core of the Self-Worth Trap is a belief so ingrained in us that we rarely stop to question it.

If I just achieve more… be more… prove more… then I’ll finally be enough.

Maybe you’ve felt this before. Maybe it’s been running in the background for as long as you can remember.

And it’s this belief that keeps us stuck in a cycle of striving, yet never arriving.

The Hidden Belief That Runs Your Life

If you were to ask someone, “Do you believe you’re enough, just as you are?” — most people wouldn’t even know how to answer.

Because for as long as we can remember, we’ve been conditioned to measure our worth through external markers.

It starts early.

As kids, we learned that good grades, gold stars, and praise from parents weren’t just rewards — they were proof that we were good enough. That we deserved love and approval.

In sports, the message was even clearer: winners were celebrated, losers were nobodies.

And as adults, the game only got bigger. The scoreboards changed — from grades to salaries, from gold stars to status symbols.

But the belief remained the same:

Who I am isn’t enough. I need to do more to be worthy.

Slowly, this belief becomes the lens through which we see ourselves.

If we’re not achieving, we’re failing.

If we’re not getting approval, we’re inadequate.

If we’re not striving, we’re falling behind.

And so, we chase.

Relentlessly. Endlessly. Convinced that the next achievement will be the one that finally makes us feel whole.

But instead of freedom, we find ourselves trapped.

Trapped in a cycle we can’t see, yet feel in every moment of doubt, insecurity, and restlessness.

This is the Self-Worth Trap. And it shows up in two ways.

1.The Conscious Struggle: Feeling Unworthy

At the surface level, it feels like a constant whisper in the back of your mind.

I should be doing more. I should be better.

You may recognise it as:

• Harsh self-criticism – No matter what you achieve, it never feels good enough. You always see where you could’ve done better.

• The fear of being seen as ‘less than’ – Scrolling through social media, comparing yourself to others, feeling like you’re falling behind.

• Anxiety over success or failure – Because deep down, you’re terrified that if you don’t succeed, it means you’re not enough.

It’s a constant battle between where you are and where you think you should be.

And it never stops.

2.The Unconscious Trap: Seeking Completion Through External Goals

Even if you don’t feel actively unworthy, this belief is still running your life.

• It’s there in the way you can’t enjoy success for long — because as soon as you reach a goal, you set your sights on the next one.

• It’s there in the way you can’t slow down — because stopping would mean sitting with the fear that without achievement, you are nothing.

• It’s there in the way you seek validation — because without someone else recognising your worth, you struggle to recognise it yourself.

The signs may be subtle, but they are always there.

Now here’s the painful truth.

Even when you achieve your goals — even when you get the validation, the success, the recognition — you barely get to enjoy it.

Because soon enough, the feeling creeps back in.

The high fades. The goalposts move. And you’re left with the same question you started with:

Why don’t I feel enough?

The Moment Everything Changed

For so long, I had been convinced that just one more achievement, success, or external validation would finally make me feel enough.

Yet after every achievement, nothing really changed.

I started to see the pattern I had been trapped in:

• Running didn’t fulfil me, so I chased social validation.

• Social validation didn’t fulfil me, so I chased success in poker.

• Poker didn’t fulfil me, so I chased significance through coaching.

No matter how many times I changed what I was chasing, the underlying feeling never changed.

At a recent ten day silent retreat, I sat with my thoughts for hours.

For the first time, I was forced to ask a different question:

"What if the problem was never the things I was chasing? What if the problem was the belief that I had to chase at all?"

That realisation shook me to my core.

Because it meant that nothing external was ever going to make me feel whole.

And if that was true — then I had been running in the wrong direction my entire life.

The more I sat with this realisation, the clearer things became.

I saw the pattern that had ruled my life — the endless cycle of proving, achieving, and striving for something I had always had within me.

And in that clarity, three lessons stood out.

1.Self-Worth Is Not Earned

I had spent my whole life believing that I had to do something to be worthy. That worthiness was something I had to earn through achievements, validation, or success.

But the truth is, self-worth was never something external.

Nothing I did could add to it. Nothing I failed at could take it away.

Because self-worth isn’t something you earn — it’s something you recognise.

I had always been enough. I just didn’t believe it.

2.You Don't Need External Achievements

I had always believed that success would silence the doubt.

But the real trap wasn’t failure — it was success itself.

Because when I finally achieved the things I thought would make me feel enough, and nothing changed, I was forced to face the truth.

That no amount of achievement was ever going to fill an internal void.

Because the void wasn’t real — it was just a belief I had been conditioned to accept.

3.The Illusion of A Happy Future

The mind is an expert at deception.

It convinces us that happiness and self-worth exist in the future — just one more milestone away.

Vipassana meditation made me painfully aware of how my mind was constantly looking toward the future — as if my happiness was always just out of reach.

For ten days, I watched this process unfold over and over again.

• Once this retreat is over, I’ll feel better.

• Once I get back to my normal life, I’ll feel at peace.

• Once I figure out what to do next, everything will make sense.

But the moment I caught my mind doing this, I saw through the illusion.

The same mental pattern had played out my entire life.

• Once I achieve XYZ, then I’ll finally be enough.

• Once I make more money, then I’ll feel secure.

• Once I get recognition, then I’ll feel valuable.

Yet just like in meditation, the moment I reached those milestones, my mind simply moved the goalpost.

The future was always a moving target that never arrived.

And the truth hit me like a ton of bricks.

The feeling of “not enough” was never about lacking something external — it came from a faulty belief system that told me I had to chase something to prove my worth.

Seeing Through the Minds Stories

Once I saw the illusion, I knew I couldn’t keep living the same way.

But how do you unlearn a belief that has been running your life for so long?

I had to learn to observe the mind rather than identify with its stories.

This is where Vipassana meditation, self-inquiry, and deep inner work changed everything.

Through these practices, I began to see my thoughts for what they were:

• Not absolute truths, but passing patterns.

• Not reflections of reality, but conditioned narratives.

• Not facts, but illusions.

Instead of believing the mind’s story that I wasn’t enough, I started questioning it.

Instead of automatically chasing external validation, I sat with the discomfort of not proving myself.

And over time, something shifted.

The Final Realisation

The need to chase… faded.

The belief that I wasn’t enough… lost its power.

I finally saw through the illusion.

And for the first time in my life, I experienced something I had been running from all along.

Peace.

Not because I had achieved something new.

But because I finally saw that I had never needed to.

Adam