“Your self-worth is not built in your performance — it is remembered in your boundaries.” — Catherine Plano
You know that feeling. The knot in your gut as soon as you open your inbox. The lump in your throat during yet another meeting where your ideas are overlooked. The sinking sensation in your chest when you realise you’ve spent another day tolerating what drains you.
And still, you stay.
You stay in the job. You stay in the relationship. You stay in the discomfort. Not because it nourishes you, but because a quiet, insidious voice deep in your subconscious whispers: “Maybe this is all I’m worth.”
Let’s talk about that voice. The one that lives not in logic, but in your nervous system. The one that confuses endurance for strength. The one who believes your ability to tolerate pain is a badge of honour.
Your Body Knows Before Your Brain Does
You can reason with yourself all day long. You can say, “It’s not that bad.” You can compare yourself to others who have it worse. You can even tell yourself you’re lucky to have what you have.
But your body doesn’t lie.
That heaviness in your chest when your boss enters the room. That’s your nervous system whispering, “I don’t feel safe here.”
That tension in your shoulders every Sunday night? Your body’s way of saying, “This isn’t sustainable.”
Self-worth is not just a mindset. It’s a full-body experience. According to polyvagal theory, developed by Dr. Stephen Porges, our autonomic nervous system continuously scans for cues of safety or threat in our environment — a process called neuroception.
If your nervous system detects a lack of safety, it will activate a stress response long before your rational mind catches on. Chronic exposure to micro-aggressions, unpredictability, or invalidation can trigger these stress responses, reinforcing the belief: “I am not safe here. I am not worthy here.”
The Wound Beneath the Workplace
I once had a client—let’s call her Elise—who was brilliant, dedicated, and utterly burnt out. Her team leaned on her for everything. Her boss rarely acknowledged her. And her calendar was booked with back-to-back meetings that left no time to breathe.
When I asked her why she stayed, her eyes welled up. “Because I don’t know if I’d be valued anywhere else.”
That’s not a weakness. That’s a wound.
A wound that perhaps began in childhood, where love had to be earned. Where being invisible was safer than being too much. Where chaos taught her to over-function and call it success.
In psychological terms, this links directly to attachment theory, which tells us that early relational patterns with caregivers shape our adult behaviour. If your nervous system adapted to instability or emotional neglect, you may unconsciously gravitate toward work environments that mirror those early experiences — not because they serve you, but because they feel familiar.
We Call It Professionalism. But Is It?
Staying in discomfort is often masked as resilience. We say, “It’s just part of the job.” We call it being a team player. We say things like, “I just need to detach emotionally.”
But detachment is not always a strength. Sometimes, it’s survival. Sometimes, it’s the body’s way of numbing what it no longer knows how to process.
The modern workplace often reinforces this pattern. We valorise burnout. We idolise the “always on” employee. But in truth, psychological safety — a term coined by Harvard researcher Amy Edmondson — is what drives performance and innovation. In her studies, the highest-performing teams weren’t the ones with the smartest individuals, but the ones where members felt safe enough to speak up, make mistakes, and show up fully.
If your environment punishes vulnerability, you’re not being unprofessional by struggling — you’re responding to a lack of safety.
The Mirror That Shows You the Truth
Here’s the gentle, yet revolutionary question I often ask in coaching:
“What if your external world is mirroring something unresolved within you?”
- If your boss is unpredictable, where did you first learn to navigate volatility?
- If your colleagues overlook you, where did you first learn to stay small to feel safe?
- If your job constantly undermines your value, where did you first believe you had to overdeliver to be enough?
These are not blame-based questions. They are bridges—connecting your past experiences to your present choices. According to internal family systems (IFS) and parts work modalities, these internal dynamics often originate from “younger parts” of ourselves that are still running the show — trying to protect us from re-experiencing old pain.
And when you start to see the pattern, something powerful happens. You begin to understand that the cage isn’t made of circumstances. It’s made of stories. Old ones. Outdated ones. And they’re ready to be rewritten.
Finding What’s Worth Keeping
Sometimes, when pain peaks, we think we need to walk away from everything. Burn the bridges. Quit the job. End the relationship. Start over.
But before you do — pause.
What in this experience still feels aligned with your values? What energises you, challenges you in healthy ways, and reflects the future you are creating?
And what drains you? What keeps you small, silenced, or stuck in survival?
Healing is not all or nothing. It is the sacred art of discernment — of choosing what gets to stay, and what no longer belongs.
What Would the Worthy Version of You Choose?
If you believed—truly believed—that you were worthy of peace, dignity, and joy… what would change today?
- Would you ask for that raise?
- Would you have that difficult conversation?
- Would you finally leave what is draining you?
Or maybe it is not about a grand gesture. Maybe it starts with a whisper. A micro-decision. A shift in posture. A deeper breath. A single, sacred boundary.
Because self-worth isn’t built in big leaps. It is remembered in small, consistent choices that say, “I matter.”
This Is the Beginning
If it has become harder to tolerate what once felt normal, that is not a breakdown. It is a breakthrough.
- It means your soul is growing louder than your survival patterns.
- It means your nervous system is asking for peace—not perfection.
- It means you are beginning to remember who you were before the world taught you to shrink.
Let that remembering guide your next step. Not the fear. Not the doubt. But the quiet knowing that your worth was never up for debate.
Let this be your beginning.
Journal Prompts for the Brave Soul
- Where in my life am I staying small to stay safe?
- What would I do differently if I deeply believed I was worthy?
- What boundary is asking to be drawn — not in fear, but in love?
