For most of my life, I thought I was trying to get ahead. To be better. More disciplined. More in control. If I could just get things right, I told myself, I would feel better. Calmer. More settled. I would finally be enough.
What I didn’t understand at the time was that I wasn’t really chasing success. I was chasing relief.
I was constantly trying to stay one step ahead of how I felt. One step ahead of whatever might come up next. If I could get things done right, stay organized, avoid mistakes and keep people happy, I could quiet that underlying tension, at least for a moment. And when it eased, even briefly, I would do it again. Relief teaches repetition.
Gradually, I found myself becoming more anxious, more preoccupied and, at times, deeply unsettled. At different points, I was told I had anxiety, depression and even obsessive patterns. Each explanation captured something, but none of them fully fit. What I see more clearly now is that the very strategies I used to get relief were keeping me stuck. But back then, I kept doing what seemed to help, finding small ways out, brief moments of relief, only to end up right back where I started.
I didn’t understand that my brain was learning from all of this. Each time something worked, it was being reinforced. Not because it solved anything, but because it made the feeling go away, if only temporarily. So I kept returning to the same patterns, not realizing I was training myself to need them. It gave me a sense of control, of being prepared, of staying ahead of things.
Eventually, something shifted. The relief didn’t last as long. The tension returned more quickly and with greater force, and the need to manage it became constant. What had once been occasional became automatic. What had helped me cope was now shaping how I moved through my day. I wasn’t just responding to stress anymore. I was creating it. I was living in it.
Things began to change when I stopped trying to manage how I felt. Awareness started to emerge. I began to see the patterns for what they were: brilliant adaptations that once made sense, but were keeping me moving in circles. For a long time, I believed the answer was to get rid of the feeling, to fix it, solve it or stay ahead of it. What I’m learning now is something very different.
Instead of trying to eliminate the feeling, I’m learning how to stay with it. To notice the tension without immediately reacting, to let the discomfort be there, even when every instinct says to move away. And in doing so, something unexpected is happening. The feeling is beginning to shift on its own, not because I forced it, but because I stopped fighting it.
This pattern isn’t unique to me. It shows up in the small ways we move through our days. Rechecking things we’ve already done. Replaying conversations. Staying busy so we don’t have to feel what’s underneath. We think we’re solving a problem. In many ways, we are. We’re finding relief. But the brain learns from that, and over time, what once helped can begin to shape how we feel consistently.
I spent years trying to feel better. What I’m learning now is how to stay long enough for something new to happen.
Andrew W. Seefeld, MD, is an emergency and addiction medicine physician who lives in New Hampton and works at Speare Memorial Hospital in Plymouth.