Monica and the Pressure to Get It Right

Monica did not come into the session because something was clearly wrong. She came because something felt off. Not loud, not overwhelming, just heavy.

On the surface, she was doing everything right. She had been preparing for interviews for months. She knew her work, she had experience, and she even enjoyed what she did. And yet, every time she stepped into an interview, something shifted. Her words got stuck, her confidence dropped, and after it ended, there was only one feeling left behind. I ruined it. It did not make sense to her, because when she stood in her work, she felt proud, clear, and confident. But the moment it turned into evaluation, something inside her tightened.

She began to notice it in her body. A tightness in her feet. When she stayed with it, it took a shape. A triangle, medium sized, purple. It did not feel random. It felt like something that had been sitting there for a long time.

As she stayed with the experience, more began to appear. Rejection, pressure, strangers, the feeling of being judged. It became clear that it was not just about interviews. It was about what interviews represented. Performance, being seen, being evaluated. And somewhere deep inside, a quiet belief surfaced that something is wrong with me.

Instead of trying to fix the present, she followed it back. To the first time this pressure was created. Ninth grade. She saw a younger version of herself, a girl who had just begun hearing conversations about marriage. A girl who looked at the women around her and noticed that they were not fully happy, that they had given up parts of themselves. And in that moment, a decision was made. I will not live like this. I have to earn. I have to be independent. I cannot depend on anyone. It did not feel like a belief. It felt like survival.

As she grew older, that decision did not fade. It became stronger. It was no longer just about independence. It had turned into pressure. If I do not succeed, everything falls apart. If I do not get this job, I will lose everything. If this does not work, nothing will. Her nervous system had been living in that state for years, constantly holding tension, constantly bracing. No wonder it was exhausted.

Another layer appeared. Nineteen. A new city, a new life, no support system. Everything felt uncertain. And in that uncertainty, another belief formed. If I go back home, that means I failed. So she pushed. She kept going, held everything together, and did not allow herself to fall apart, because falling apart was not an option.

And then, something even earlier surfaced. Around ten years old. A younger version of her who wanted to swim, to sing, to participate. But she was not given the chance. Not because she was not capable, but because she had joined late, because she could not stay long enough, because she did not fit the system. And so she created a belief. When you get a chance, you have to prove yourself. And deeper than that, you may not get another chance.

As these layers came together, the pattern became undeniable. Every interview was not just an interview. It was a chance she could not lose, a moment she had to prove herself, a situation where failure was not allowed. No wonder her body froze. No wonder the pressure took over. No wonder she felt like she was ruining it.

But this time, something different happened. She did not leave those younger versions of herself in those moments. She met them. She held the nineteen year old who was overwhelmed, reassured the nine year old who was scared, and allowed the ten year old to finally do what she had always wanted. To play, to swim, to enjoy. Not to prove anything, just to experience.

Slowly, the beliefs began to soften. It is okay to depend on someone. It is okay to not always be strong. It is okay if things do not work out immediately. And as these shifts happened, the pressure started to leave her body. The triangle dissolved. The heaviness lifted. The fear that once felt like truth now felt like something she could step away from.

When she returned to the idea of an interview, something had changed. It no longer felt like a monster. It felt neutral, even possible. There was no tightness in her body, no urgency to prove. Just a quiet thought to focus on the process.

Nothing outside had changed. The interviews were still there, the uncertainty was still there. But inside, she felt grounded, calm, and capable.

Sometimes, what we call fear of failure is not about failure at all. It is about old moments where we decided that we cannot afford to fail. The body remembers those decisions and keeps trying to protect us from ever feeling that way again. But protection can sometimes feel like pressure, and pressure can look like self doubt. Until we go back and show those younger parts that they are safe now.

HAPPY HEALINGS!