Addicted to Achievement: When Success Becomes a Coping Mechanism
“Performance addiction is the belief that perfecting appearance and achieving status will secure love and respect.” — Dr. Arthur Ciaramicoli (2004)
While high performers are celebrated for their ambition and relentless drive, few talk about what’s fueling it beneath the surface. For some, success is guided by genuine passion and purpose. For others, it’s also about something more compulsive—an insatiable urgency to prove, perfect, or outrun the fear of not being or having enough.
That’s when achievement can turn into addiction. It looks like discipline from the outside, but on the inside, it often feels like unsurmountable pressure, anxiety, and feelings of inadequacy. Ambition can stop feeling like a choice and begins to feel like a survival strategy - success as a means of seeking love, respect and safety (Ciaramicoli, 2004).
What Is Performance Addiction?
Performance addiction isn’t about working hard or having high standards. It’s about tying your self-worth to how well you perform. In other words, success becomes a stand-in for inner stability and emotional security. This pattern often traces back to early experiences. Many people who develop this pattern were praised only when they excelled, or loved more when they were impressive, compliant, or “good.” As a result, they learned to associate performance with safety and belonging, and keep chasing success for temporary moments of feeling “enough” or “complete.” Yet, the goalposts keep moving. Even great accomplishments begin to feel empty.
Who Are You Without Performance?
The eminent psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott (1965) described something he called the false self—a version of ourselves built to earn love or cope with neglect or emotional inconsistency from caregivers.
For those addicted to the brief “highs” derived from high achievement, this false self often looks confident and driven. Beneath the surface is often someone who’s unsure who they are when they’re not performing, producing, or pleasing others.
When confronted with failures or when one has reached the height of possible achievements, it can become about more than losing a game, money, or status — it becomes a loss of identity. When we rely on external validation to feel secure, we disconnect from our authentic needs, values, and desires. We learn to perform for connection, rather than allowing ourselves to be appreciated for who we are without status or achievement.
Signs You Might Be Chasing Validation, Not Just Goals
Performance addiction can be subtle, especially in a culture that celebrates productivity. Some signs to reflect on:
You feel anxious or guilty when you’re not being productive
Praise gives you a temporary high; criticism hits disproportionately hard
You define your worth by your career, status, or image
You struggle to rest, relax, or enjoy the present moment
Your relationships often feel conditional—like you’re earning love through value or service
You’ve lost touch with what brings genuine joy, apart from what’s “impressive”
You’re constantly moving the goalpost—nothing feels enough
Why It’s So Hard to Let Go
Letting go of performance as a way of proving your worth isn’t easy—especially when it’s brought you accolades, praise, and a sense of acceptance. The polished, high-achieving version of you may have helped you gain security and belonging in an unpredictable world. But the longer you rely on achievement to feel safe, the harder it becomes to know who you are without it.
This is why life transitions—moments when your identity as a “doer” or “winner” is disrupted—can feel especially destabilizing. Retirement from competitive sports. Stepping back from a leadership role. A career pivot. These transitions often strip away the roles we’ve used to define ourselves, leaving us face-to-face with deeper questions:
Who am I now? What am I worth if I’m not producing or performing?
Athletes retiring from elite sports are particularly vulnerable to depression, anxiety, and feelings of loss of identity. These psychological struggles often arise not only because of the change in routine, but because of the collapse of a long-held identity built on performance, discipline, and external validation.
If performance has been your primary way of maintaining emotional equilibrium, its absence can make you feel grief. The grief isn’t just about losing the podium—it’s about losing a part of yourself that you’ve long relied on to feel seen or worthy.
Redefining What Drives You
You don’t have to abandon your ambition. But the work is to redefine your approach to success so that your drive isn’t fueled by fear.
When success is no longer a stand-in for safety, you can start to create from authenticity and alignment—not anxiety. Your aspirations and achievements can begin to feel like a reflection of who you are, rather than a mask for what you fear you’re not.
If this resonates, here are a few questions and practices to explore:
What emotions arise when I rest or do “nothing”? Can I sit with them without judgment?
Have I confused admiration with love? And what kind of love am I actually longing for?
When did I first learn that success or being “good” earned me love or approval?
Do I know what brings me joy, separate from what brings me praise?
What does it feel like to be fully seen—not for what I do, but for who I am?
Try these small shifts:
Gain awareness: Notice when you might be working for self-worth vs. creating from a place of purpose and passion
Allow time to “be” rather than “do”: Let rest become a space of genuine presence
Reconnect with yourself: Spend time in activities and practices that nourish your well-being —not just your image.
Reflect on your values: How can you redefine success to reflect your true values?
Seek support: Therapy or coaching can help you build a life that feels truly yours.
References
Ciaramicoli, A. P. (2004). Performance Addiction: The Dangerous New Syndrome and How to Stop It. Wiley.
Winnicott, D. W. (1965). The Maturational Processes and the Facilitating Environment: Studies in the Theory of Emotional Development. London: Hogarth Press.
