When Grit Backfires: 3 Lessons from Hustle to Healing

At 16, I was a depressed high school dropout feeling aimless in the aftermath of the loss of a parent. At a time when society was telling me I should have a draft road map for my life, I had no clear internal compass showing me how to move forward. Unsure of how to process the complex emotions I was carrying day to day, my brain was operating in survival mode. I automatically translated my inability to focus in school as evidence that I wasn’t smart enough; however, any tangible work that I could do with my hands became a welcome distraction.

In those early days, my pain became the shaky foundation for my work ethic. I babysat kids, cleaned houses, worked in the back of restaurant kitchens, and sold spa packages door to door. I eventually took as many paid jobs as I could to earn some money and gain some independence in a city that was expensive and horribly unkind to minimum wage workers.

I wasn’t smart (I thought back then), but at least I had *grit*.

In those early days, grit was my life raft.

Grit meant action.

Grit meant momentum that would carry me forward to a slightly better place than I was before.

It’s safe to say that it became baked into the core of my identity.

For years, that relentless drive carried me on an unexpected journey that would eventually lead me to obtain my bachelor’s and master’s degree and kick-start a career that I never could have imagined possible. It gave me a level of independence and financial stability that, to this day, I am still grateful for. But somewhere along the way, grit started to cost me more than it gave.

If you’ve seen Angela Duckworth’s TED Talk, you’ve probably heard her define grit as “passion and perseverance for long-term goals.” It’s been studied in classrooms, workplaces, and even the U.S. military. In fact, Duckworth’s research found that West Point cadets with higher grit scores were 60% more likely to complete their intense summer training program than their less gritty peers. It’s no wonder that grit has become a badge of honor for students, entrepreneurs, and essentially any form of high achiever.

And my experience has been similar—grit can be powerful. It can help you finish degrees, land jobs, complete marathons, climb mountains, and just generally accomplish *hard* things even when the odds are stacked against you. But here’s what I learned the hard way: grit, when pushed too far, can backfire. The same persistence that saved me in survival mode eventually started to erode my health, my relationships, and my intrinsic sense of self-worth.

So while I need to give grit the credit its due, there are three lessons I wish I had known sooner before I allowed it to run parts of my life off the trails.

Lesson 1 – Survival Mode is Blinding

Getting into a small university was a major milestone for me. I had been a high school dropout who had just managed to complete her diploma through an adult learning center over the course of many nights and weekends while continuing to work.

When I was accepted into my chosen program, I was understandably desperate to make it work. All I wanted was my bachelor’s degree so that I could kick-start a real, long-term career that could financially sustain me. I also entered the academic world feeling like an imposter who had to constantly prove her right to be there.

I pushed so hard toward my academic and career goals that I neglected relationships, overlooked opportunities, and hindered my ability to truly appreciate moments of pleasure and joy.

It’s not that I didn’t have meaningful experiences or relationships during that period of life; I just chose not to prioritize them over my academic and early career goals. And when I chose to continue on to graduate school, where my imposter syndrome reached new heights of anxiety, this need to prioritize the hustle over people and experiences only became worse.

I favored studying over social gatherings and parties. I avoided joining school social groups and volunteer organizations and rarely participated in extracurricular activities for fear they would be too much of a distraction. When my quiet evenings became unbearably lonely, I would voraciously watch episode reruns of Friends and Sex in the City to imagine what what it would be like to have a close, inner circle of companions.

What I failed to see at the time were all the potential friendships and networking opportunities I was leaving on the table by not actively balancing my academic goals with all the social and networking opportunities that came with post-secondary life. School is a fertile landscape for cultivating these types of relationships, which I didn’t fully appreciate until I was scrambling to find these opportunities later in life.

If I could go back in time and talk to my younger, twenty-something self, I would grab her by shoulders and reassure her that she had nothing to prove to anybody, and that looking up from the daily grind of studying, assignments, and tests would not only help her savor this chapter of her life – but also propel her personal and career life in ways she probably never would have anticipated.

Instead, tunnel vision prevented me from slowing down to appreciate the people and unique experiences that were available to me at the time.

Self Reflection: Where in your life are you sprinting so fast that you're missing what's right beside you?

Lesson 2 – Hustle can only outrun your Humanity for So Long

In graduate school, hustling was a badge of honor. If you were hunched over your computer writing and researching for 12 hours a day, you were deserving of your funding and position.

But when I was offered a full-time position for my dream job after graduation, it seemed perfectly natural that the hustle and grind that got me through school would also propel me through the early stages of my career.

It was, perhaps, no surprise that it eventually caught up with me.

It didn’t help that I was doing long hours and *weird* hours that affected the duration and quality of my sleep.

I was saying “yes” to extended shifts on the road, sleeping on lumpy motel beds, while subsisting on canned soup and gas station food.

I was saying “yes” to every last-minute request in order to reinforce my identity as a team player.

It’s safe to say that this style of work had become the norm for me, and I was unconsciously afraid that everything I had worked for would suddenly evaporate if I said any variation of the word No.

Life also continued to happen. I got married. I took care of a sick parent. I got divorced. I grieved the loss of multiple family members. Despite these circumstances, I physically kept going and didn’t slow down to emotionally process the gravity of these life transitions.

The chronic stress eventually spilled over into every faucet of my life.

I stopped being able to sleep.

I randomly burst into tears.

I was tired and regularly turned down offers to socialize.

I didn’t have the emotional resilience to effectively show up in challenging scenarios, especially in high-conflict situations that demanded nuance, compassion, and patience.

Importantly, I stopped enjoying my work. Without the mental resilience to navigate the hard stuff, I was losing sight of why I had deeply cared about my chosen career in the first place.

Despite the pressures of my chosen industry, it was ultimately internalized fear that kept me from standing back and slowing down. I didn’t carve out the kind of time it takes to take care of a physical body, such as getting enough exercise, sleeping well, eating well, and socializing with the few friends I still had. The internalized fear also prevented me from seeing where I had the flexibility to set boundaries for work requests.

I burned out, and would spend the next few years trying to reclaim my physical and mental health.

Self-Reflection: What does your body need that your ambition has been ignoring?

Lesson 3 – Grit can Build Something Great, but it Can’t Build a Life

Grit was fantastic at helping me achieve some important, singular and tangible goals. However, in the aftermath of burnout, a divorce, and devastating family loss, I realized to my horror that grit had prevented me from pausing long enough to define what a good life means. Grit could get me a meaningful job, but it couldn’t get me a meaningful life. It kept my eyes on my feet and helped me move quickly over uneven terrain, but it prevented me from looking up to the horizon to see where I was going long-term.

As I slowed down to pick up the pieces of my life and figure out how to rebuild something new, I realized I was going to have to try a different tactic this time.

What would it be like to operate in a state other than survival mode?

What would it be like to feel comfortable moving through the world in a slower, more intentional way?

How did my definition of success need to change?

Now understanding the limitations of my time and energy, how was I now going to funnel those precious resources, and to where?

I felt untethered, like I was starting from ground zero re-learning how to do life again.  I had chased stability, titles, and survival — but not a horizon that felt truly my own.

One glorious, sunny day in the mountains hiking with a dear friend who I hadn’t seen in years, on a two-week vacation I hadn’t taken in years, feeling more grounded than I had years, I realized there were other aspects of my life I wanted to lovingly nurture.  

Slowing down wasn’t failure; it was the start of redefining success.

Self-Reflection: Are your long-term goals still aligned with the life you actually want to live?

Re-defining My Relationship with Grit

For years, I thought grit was the ultimate answer to success. And why not? It certainly served me well during the early part of my life. I pushed through every milestone to the point of exhaustion, ignored my body’s warning signs, and called that “resilience”. However, what I was really experiencing was the slow creep of burnout, which was the end result of allowing grit to operate unchecked.

I learned the hard way that true resilience isn’t about endless hustle; it’s about knowing when to rest, recover, and redirect your energy. I still believe that grit can be powerful, if used intentionally and with boundaries.

Over the last few years, I have striven to change my relationship to grit by implementing the following strategies:

1. Give grit a timeline. Relentless effort is no longer an option. Grit is now a strategy I use either for brief durations for short-term goals, or spaced-out bursts of effort for longer-term goals.
2. Build in recovery. I no longer see rest as just a reward, but an essential part of the process.
3. Allow change. Sometimes, the bravest thing we can do is let go of a goal that no longer fits. And make no mistake – this still scares me.

How has grit shaped your own life? Did it lift you up, or leave you feeling depleted? Share your story – I’d love to hear how you’re redefining resilience.