On chasing success and running from laziness

How a moment in time redefined my self-identity and sent me on a relentless quest for more.

When I was 14, my Dad called me lazy.

I know now that he didn't mean anything by it, he was just tired of me asking to go to the mall every weekend with my friends.

He spent his weekends golfing or running or doing yard work, and figured his teenage daughter didn’t need any more lip gloss. He had better things to do that to drive me for the umpteenth time to Market Mall.

It was an innocuous comment, said on some random weekend morning, but it became my guiding driver for the next 25 years. I don’t blame him for saying it and I know it wasn’t said out of malice. It was an observation more than a declaration.

But at 14, hormones raging, identity in formation, I didn’t know that I shouldn’t take it personally. It was the only way I knew how to take it. My under-developed prefrontal cortex took his words as truth, not even questioning their meaning, validity or intention.

I was wasting my time. I wasn’t doing anything of value. I was lazy.

And away my brain ran with that label, sending me on a quest to chase after my worth like a track star dashing for the tape.

I’ll show you (and me) that I’m not lazy

By 15, I was playing competitive soccer and field hockey, practicing in my backyard until it was too dark to see the ball. I was competitive (like my dad) and quickly equated my success to how many goals I scored, whether I was named captain of the team and how many times my coaches said, “Good job Steph.”

I signed up for multiple teams, took skills camps on the weekends and wore my Umbro soccer shorts 24/7 (my mom did not love this fact and would have much rather I put on a little lip gloss).

And while I truly loved playing, my motivations weren’t only for the love of the game.

“See? I’m not lazy,” I thought to myself. “I’m busting my butt in two sports at the same time. That’s gotta be worth something.”

Editor’s note: it’s worth noting that my dad rarely came to any of my games, nor gave me much praise for my sports achievements. That was a hard and confusing pill to swallow at the time. Looking back, I can see how I conflated my effort with an expectation of his approval. But he wasn’t hooked in the way I was — his comment was merely a passing remark in his mind, and he had no idea that I held onto it like a prized possession. Also, it was the 90s and parents didn’t come to every game and practice. It wasn’t a personal slight, it was the way it was. 🤷‍♀️

Chasing success any way I could

My dad’s one random comment set into motion a way of operating in the world that informed everything — from school to sports to work to service to my relationships. It became the tape I played on repeat:

“You’re lazy; get to work.”

It manifested itself in countless ways, from:

• saying yes when I really meant no

• working myself to exhaustion

• chasing gold stars by way of external validation

• pursuing things that were complex or involved because they were ‘worthy’ of doing

• moving the goal lines out further and further, never taking pride in where I was at

• having a panic attack before a university exam, only to have one of my favourite professors give me a kind but firm lecture on stretching myself too thin

• volunteering every spare moment I had, not just because it felt good but because it might help me advance my career

• leaving myself no time to have fun or pursue something non-achievement oriented

I chased success relentlessly (whatever I thought that meant at the time; not sure I actually knew) and ignored or laughed off friends and colleagues who gently suggested that maybe I didn’t have to do it all.

Doing less didn’t compute and wasn’t an option I saw as available to me. If I wanted success, this was the cost of doing business.

Go all in, or get out of the way.

The transfer of meaning

Over time my dad’s words were no longer attributed to him, but instead part of my own self-narrative. I didn’t hear his voice telling me I was lazy, I heard my own.

And I reminded myself every single day that there was always more to do, more to pursue and more to prove.

It's taken years to unlearn and untangle from that deep groove that told me, value = achievement + hard work.

And in those moments when I’m sitting on the couch relaxing after a long day, I can hear the whispers of judgement telling me that I should stop wasting time and start doing in something ‘important.’

Some days I can tap into the calm, grounded part of myself that reminds me I’m enough exactly as I am and that no check off the to-do list will make that less true.

Other days — usually after a bad night’s sleep or too much time on social media — I berate myself for not doing more and question if I’ve lost my fire.

Unhooking my worth from my workload is a work in progress, and I’m nowhere near the finish line.

Here’s what’s helped

Like most things in life, changing our self-perception and corresponding actions, takes time. I wish I could flip a switch for you — and for me, but that’s just not how it works.

Practice makes progress.

Here are some of the practices I incorporate in my own life and offer up to clients:

1. Self-reflection: This could include journaling, weekly reviews or working with a therapist or coach etc. I use my Friday Focus questions each week to pay attention to how I’m showing up. Processing our own histories and patterns helps us spot areas to improve and gives us empathy and compassion for where we are and how we got here. It’s a simple, yet powerful practice I always benefit from.

2. Reframing rest as a productive act: Ugh this one is hard for me, but I know it to be true. We can’t give what we don’t have, and rest and recovery are critical steps on the pathway to greater creativity and productivity. You can’t have one sustainable output without periods of restoration (at least not for long). Seeing rest as equal to output is my life’s work.

3. Understanding the historical context of work: My (nor my father’s) beliefs about the value of work (achievement, workload, effort, etc) came out of thin air. We’ve been marinating in them for centuries, dating back to the Protestant Reformation when Calvin equated our work ethic to be directly linked to our status with God. And this has continued on, including our current day version in the form of self-help ‘gurus’ telling you it’s your fault if you’re not where you want to be. Understanding the context under which our beliefs originated is a helpful way to remind ourselves that this is much bigger than our own desire to watch Netflix instead of cleaning the toilet.

4. Defining success for myself: Social media doesn’t make this easy, and it’s an exercise I have to return to regularly, but I do make every effort to remind myself that there is no one right way, and that what matters is what matters to me. Usually this takes the form of me leaving a rambling Voxer message to a friend starting with me bemoaning about something and ending with me reminding myself why I’ve made the choices I’ve made and how it supports the life *I* want.

5. Shaming myself isn’t sustainable: If I’ve learned nothing else it’s this: trying to shame my way into action is a fast path to doing less, not more. Acting out of shame and self-loathing strips me of all creativity, strategic thinking and personal power. It’s fear-based response that only lasts so long before it all falls apart. So instead, I try to give myself a break on the bad days. I take the dogs for a walk, I pick up a good book, I blast some music or I call a friend. And then I start again the next day, usually with a fresh perspective and a little more gas in the tank.

Ultimately, I’m always striving for a both/and approach to my work - holding space for effort and ease.

I remind myself that they don't have to be mutually exclusive, and one isn't superior to the other. They are both key components of doing work that matters as long as I don’t tip the balances too far in one direction.

And most importantly, we don’t use the word lazy in our house. I look at my kids — 13 and 14 — and remember how much my words matter, and could become part of their inner chatter if I’m not careful.

We do our best to strike a balance between leaving space for rest and downtime, while still pursuing things that challenge them and help them feel confident and accomplished.

I want them to know that it’s all part of what it means to live a good, whole life — one that isn’t bound by narrow, gold-star driven beliefs about where their value comes from.

And the best way I can do that is by working to model it myself.

And if you’d like more ideas like this, along with resources and tools to help you navigate your own sense of worth, please consider becoming a premium subscriber. You’ll get access to my weekly Dear Steph Coaching Column, and my Friday Focus weekly review emails (see strategy #1).