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I remember sitting in my office one afternoon, juggling too many open tabs on my computer, when an email landed that made my stomach tighten. It was from my manager, and it said something like, “Could you please put together a summary of what you’ve done this year to justify your course release?”
To be fair, I don’t think it was meant to be accusatory, but that’s exactly how it felt (especially since the release had already been approved in writing). Suddenly, I was on the witness stand instead of part of a team. I stared at the screen and thought: Wasn’t I just in a meeting about the financial success of the project I led? Didn’t I just take on that extra advising load when someone left mid-semester?
But instead of saying any of that, I simply opened a blank document and started piecing together a timeline from my calendar, email threads, and task lists. The list didn’t feel like a reflection of my work; rather it felt like a defense file to shield me from being seen as “not enough.”
Somehow my body knew what was happening before my brain caught up because I could feel my shoulders stiffen and my breathing shallow. What really drained me wasn’t the list making, but rather what it meant. It felt like everything I’d already done didn’t seem to count anymore and that the moment I hit “send,” the clock would reset, and I’d be right back to proving my value all over again.
I know I’m not the only one who’s felt this way. Earlier this year, we watched headlines about federal workers being asked to submit bullet-point lists of their accomplishments each week in an exercise that sparked public backlash and private burnout.
It struck a nerve for a reason. When workplaces prioritize constant justification over sustained trust, they create an environment where value isn’t something you hold, it’s something you have to keep earning, week after week. That kind of vigilance to prove our worth doesn’t just wear us out, it rewires us for surveillance and self-preservation. You become focused on documenting for a scoreboard instead of focusing on the work itself.
The Psychology of Proving vs. Belonging
There’s a growing body of research confirming what many of us have felt in our bones: You can’t do your best work when you constantly feel like you are on trial.
Barbara Fredrickson’s research helps explain why this kind of environment takes a toll. Her broaden-and-build theory (2004) shows that when people experience emotions like trust, connection, or gratitude, their thinking expands. They become more creative, more open, and better equipped to handle challenges. Positive emotion builds the mental scaffolding we need for resilience. But when fear or scarcity creeps in, that openness collapses and our focus narrows to whatever feels most urgent or threatening, and the very capacities we need like imagination, empathy, perspective get pushed out of reach.
Amy Edmondson’s work on psychological safety (1999) adds another layer to our understanding of effective workplace cultures. When people feel safe to speak up, ask questions, or make mistakes without fear of embarrassment or punishment, they tend to work more collaboratively and take smarter risks. They think more clearly and perform better over time. When the environment feels like a constant proving ground, however, the brain flips into self-protection, while our instincts for collaboration and creativity contract. Instead of contributing freely, people start scanning for signals, asking themselves, “Am I okay, am I doing enough, what if I’m not?” Over time, that kind of vigilance doesn’t just drain energy, it shapes behavior, rewires attention and narrows what the team could do together if they felt valued and safe.
What a “Not Enough” Culture Sounds Like
You don’t need a toxic boss or a dramatic HR scandal to create a “not enough” culture. Sometimes it’s far more subtle and can look like:
- Quarterly reviews that focus only on gaps and misses.
- Team meetings where wins are quickly mentioned and perhaps perfunctorily clapped for but quickly glossed over.
- All-staff meetings where targets are celebrated more than people.
- Feedback that comes only when something goes wrong.
- Feeling that you have to keep your foot on the gas just to stay in place.
When I ask colleagues what this looks like in their own workplaces, their responses tend to follow a familiar pattern. There’s usually a brief pause, almost as if they’re deciding whether it’s safe to say it out loud. But once they do, the same sentiments begin to flow:
- “I just feel like I’m never doing enough.”
- “Even when I do a good job, it doesn’t feel like it counts.”
- “I don’t feel like they actually see what I bring.”
Over time, that kind of culture does more than just burn people out, it chips away at their confidence. People begin to second-guess their instincts, hold back their ideas, and filter themselves in subtle ways. They shrink themselves, hoping that if they take up just the right amount of space, they’ll be seen as a better fit.
What “You Are Enough” Culture Feels Like
In contrast, some organizations operate from the belief that people are inherently valuable, and it shows. In these environments:
- Recognition is offered freely and thoughtfully, not just as a checkbox but as a meaningful gesture.
- Feedback is honest and constructive rather than overly polite or evasive.
- Mistakes are treated as a natural part of learning, not as personal failures.
- Showing respect and kindness is a non-negotiable part of how people interact.
These are not low-bar workplaces. On the contrary, their expectations remain high and people are trusted to meet them. People don’t thrive when they’re stuck in a cycle of proving themselves. They thrive when they’re trusted to do what they do best, when they feel like they matter even on the days when they’re not operating at 110 percent. That’s when they want to stay and contribute their best.
What Leaders Can Do
If you manage people, even one person, your words and actions ripple further than you think. Here are four ways to anchor a sense of “enoughness” in your leadership:
- Start from trust. Assume people want to do good work. Most of them do. Let that belief shape how you design your systems. When a deadline is missed, ask “What got in the way?” rather than “Why didn’t this get done?” Set expectations that support, not second-guess, your team’s efforts.
- Treat feedback as fuel, not a threat. Build in regular, two-way conversations where both praise and critique come from a place of care. Try a standing 1:1 agenda with prompts like: “What’s going well?”, “What would help you most right now?”, and “Is there anything I can do differently to support you?” Or, try one of my favorite questions: “What would you like to be recognized for that I don’t know you are doing?”
- Catch people doing things right. Don’t wait for performance reviews. When you see something working well, even if it’s small, say something. A quick Slack message, a mention in a team meeting, or a sticky note on someone’s desk can reinforce what you want more of.
- Watch your language. Phrases like “we’re behind,” or “not good enough,” can wear people down over time. Instead, try reframing to say: “Here’s what we’re learning as we go,” or “Let’s decide what matters most right now.” The goal isn’t to sugarcoat challenges, it’s to guide without discouraging.
Incessant pressure to prove one’s value is not a performance strategy, it is a direct pathway to burnout and turnover. The strongest workplaces build trust, expect accountability, and treat people like they matter. When value is not always up for debate, people stop performing and start contributing.
