From Overachieving to Burnout to Healing

By Orly Benaroch Light

Are you an overachieving perfectionist on the road to burnout? If so, keep reading. I’ve been there and learned the hard way what it takes to break free.

My grandmother used to say “Hamdoulilah” to me in Moroccan Arabic when I was little. It means “thanks be to God” or “God’s will.” It was her way of explaining both the good and bad in life. I’ve always had mixed feelings about it, especially as it implies that some higher power orchestrates everything. But I do believe that our experiences shape us. They challenge us, force us to grow, and, if we fail to learn from them, they repeat themselves until we do.

The Pursuit of Perfection

I was a natural-born “doer”- energetic, analytical, and endlessly curious. I thrived on challenges that pushed me to work hard and express myself. For years, I believed perfection was the goal.

In elementary school, my teacher admired my artwork and asked me to paint tulips on a large canvas to welcome spring. I obsessed over it, striving for flawless technique, desperate to impress. It took me years to realize that better creative work comes from aiming for acceptable rather than perfect. Perfect isn’t about relentless tweaking - it’s better to complete 20 good projects than endlessly refine one.

Still, the feeling that nothing was ever good enough never left me. More success didn’t bring more happiness. I was always chasing a better me.

Success Came at a Cost

The dangerous part? These unhealthy traits fueled my success in building a thriving business. That’s what made it so difficult to recognize the problem.

Then I hit the wall, my breaking point. A life-threatening health issue landed me in the hospital.

How did that happen?

Two weeks earlier, a long-time colleague stopped me at a continuing medical education (CME) conference in Quebec City. “How do you do it?" she asked, eyes wide in awe. "All these conferences, year after year. How do you keep going? You're incredible!"

I laughed it off with a smile. But later, I couldn't shake the question.

Overachieving lulls us into a false sense of security. It serves us until one day, it doesn’t. When that day comes, the crash is brutal. 

The Wake-Up Call

After one month of rehabilitation, I was desperate to return to the high-stress career I had built as the founder of a CME program for healthcare professionals. I wanted to reclaim my role as the career-driven mom, the high-flier, the overachiever. Slim, polished, always presenting a smile to the world, I was a perfectionist, a champion, and a conqueror.

In my home office, the line between work and leisure blurred. Weekends felt no different from weekdays. A framed Thomas Edison quote hung on the wall as a constant reminder to keep pushing forward—no matter the cost: “Many of life's failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.” It fueled my relentless drive, drowning out any temptation to slow down or fail.

On my desk were photos of me at CME conferences at the Louis Pasteur Institute in Paris, walking in the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg, Russia, with attendees on a stop on the Baltic CME conference cruise, or dressed like a flight attendant at Disney’s grand opening of their Ko Olina resort in Hawaii, rubbing shoulders with top executives and celebrities.

But that version of me couldn’t save me now.

Returning to work felt like forcing puzzle pieces into places they didn’t belong. I was no longer the same driven professional who once thrived on 80-hour workweeks. My body sent a message I’d ignored for years.

I had been chasing an impossible standard. Perfectionism had trapped me in self-judgment, unrealistic expectations, and burnout. 

The truth was, I had been failing miserably at the most important thing: loving and accepting myself.

The Overachievers Dilemma

The paradox of high achievers is that we’re relentless, driven, and passionate. Under the right conditions, we are unstoppable. But we don’t rest. We don’t pause. We can straddle obstacles and endure discomforts that would flatten all but the strongest and most determined.

After a conference, I’ll never forget driving through Bar Harbor, Maine. My assistant admired the scenery and commented on its beauty. I barely looked up from my phone, glued to work emails. When I didn’t respond, she turned to me and asked, “Do you ever take a moment to enjoy any of this?”

It is ingrained in us to feel guilty if we take a break. While others practice self-care without a second thought, we fight an internal battle over wasting time. Even rest becomes another thing to perfect.

Breaking Free

It’s tough when society applauds women for their productivity and achievements. We strive for success, but we rarely stop and ask: Are we chasing validation or living in alignment with our authentic selves?

My health crisis forced me to slow down. Recovery was humbling. It required me to question the habits and beliefs that had driven me for years. It made me realize how often high achievers avoid introspection, staying busy to outrun discomfort. That detachment can lead to a dangerous disconnect from ourselves.

When we finally take the time to check in, we begin to heal, grow, and see life from a new perspective.

People around me served as mirrors, reflecting where I needed healing. A colleague confided in me about family struggles, and I saw my own unresolved wounds. Recognizing these patterns not only helped me – but also allowed me to better support others.

Understanding My Overachiever Part

Through Internal Family Systems (IFS), a therapy model developed by Dr. Richard Schwartz, I learned that we all have different “parts” within us – subpersonalities that serve specific roles.

My overachiever part had been with me since childhood, a protective mechanism formed in response to early experiences. It shielded me from overwhelming emotions and challenges I wasn’t equipped to process at a young age – a survival strategy against adversity and unresolved trauma.

When I finally understood the story behind my overachiever part, I saw why it had taken on this role in my childhood. I was taught that hard work always pays off, that failure wasn’t an option. My overachiever believed its sole purpose was to ensure success, maintain financial stability, and uphold a high professional status—anything to avoid rejection, criticism, or the sting of failure.

Once I recognized this, I felt an unexpected sense of compassion for it. This part of me wasn’t the enemy; it had been a survival mechanism, working tirelessly to protect me. It truly believed that without its relentless drive, I wouldn’t make it.

I imagined sending my overachiever on a long vacation. Even though it was symbolic, the relief I felt—physical and psychological—was entirely real.

Once I showed my overachiever compassion, something surprising happened: it relaxed. It stepped back. It let go. 

The Cost of Ignoring the Signs

None of this was easy. It required patience, support, and the willingness to sit with discomfort. Like many women, I had resisted stepping back, fearing everything would collapse without me.

Do we really have to hit rock bottom before we make a change?

When my life suddenly shifted, I had a profound realization that achieving external success while sacrificing our well-being was the ultimate failure.

Learning to walk a different path restored everything that mattered—my health, family, friends and creativity. That is the greatest success of all.