Breaking Free from the Performance Trap

Between Business and Soul: A January Reflection

The new year didn't bring the usual rush of excitement or fresh beginnings.

Instead, it feels like an extension of last year—momentum without inspiration, movement without clarity. Like walking through a persistent fog, each step forward requires more effort than it should.

There's a sense of stagnation, a repetitive loop of work, gym, and obligations. The rhythms of life continue, but something feels off.

It's not burnout, not exactly. It's more like a subtle, creeping question: Why does this take so much effort?

I've been trying to balance two core aspects of my identity for years. The entrepreneur in me needs to build and grow the company, focusing on metrics, strategy, and execution. Then there's the writer, teacher, and creative, yearning for deep, meaningful expression.

Neither has been fully nurtured, leaving me suspended in a constant state of tension.

Discipline and self-control push me forward, yet there's a nagging feeling that maintaining consistency shouldn't always feel like a fight.

I wake up at 5:30 to work out. I lead my company by having regular meetings, following up on OKRs, and having hard conversations. I maintain a healthy lifestyle and block six hours weekly for writing. These aren't just tasks—they're expressions of who I am.

So why do I need so much discipline to keep doing things that are supposedly part of my identity?

The fog grows thickest when I sit down to write.

The other day, I spent forty minutes staring at a blank screen. Every attempt to start was overwhelmed by expectations—not just to write, but to create something extraordinary.

I need to produce the most-read essay on Substack, as if anything less would be failure. There's no middle ground when I’m writing and expressing my soul, and everything must be perfect.

However, regarding my company, family, and exercise, I’ve learned to express myself without needing to be perfect.

I’m conflicted as I’ve written many times before.

Would I be more content if I followed one path? Either writing or entrepreneurship? But I can’t quit my company. Not now, anyway. And when I neglect my writing, I feel disconnected from myself.

Both must continue.

As I dug deeper, the problem I found was that my soul’s work—writing—became tied to performance—to numbers, metrics, and growth strategies. The fear of losing subscribers mirrors the fear of losing business traction.

This pattern appears everywhere: the constant need to produce, to prove myself. I'm simply using perfectionism as a shield against vulnerability.

Yes, I need numbers for my business, but surely not for my writing.

Yet beneath this fog, I sense something shifting.

Perhaps I'm nearing a breakthrough—reaching the point where external validation loses its grip. Maybe I'm learning to trust myself more. But trust in what, exactly?

What if my writing could exist purely as a soul practice, detached from business goals? What if I allowed myself to write quietly, in my journal, for no one but me? The tension between writing for personal fulfillment and an audience doesn't have to be resolved—it can be acknowledged and embraced.

Exhaustion comes from constantly questioning, from looking outward for certainty instead of inward for conviction. This restlessness, this feeling of being unmoored, stems from waiting for someone else to validate my choices.

However, I come alive when I take my passions seriously and decide what sustains me deserves careful attention. The answer isn't outside—it's in fully committing to what fuels me, trusting that what I love is enough.

The fog begins to lift when I embrace both aspects of my journey:

I choose to pour my energy into growing my company with renewed passion, recapturing the curiosity and innovation that drove me when I first started. I’d need all the metrics here to analyse and readjust for growth.

This isn't about "having to" do it; it's about acknowledging that this work is an integral part of who I am.

Simultaneously, I commit to writing from my innermost thoughts, free from the pressure to impress or instruct. There is no need to connect every insight to ancient philosophy or polish every sentence perfectly. I want to express myself honestly, flowing from experience to this newsletter/essay on Substack.

As the fog clears, I realise that this tension—between entrepreneurship and creativity, between external achievement and internal truth—is not something to resolve but to harness.

In embracing both, I might find my clearest path forward.