What if “Not Good Enough” is Right?

We all carry negative beliefs and accompanying strategies we picked up along the way—working to please, keeping the peace, staying calm and rational, or taking care of everyone around us.  Most of the time, we refer to the negative beliefs behind these “coping mechanisms” as irrational and belonging to the past.

But what if they aren’t just old baggage? What if they actually make sense, even now?

When I say that views of self like “I’m not good enough” or “I’m unlovable” are rational—not irrational—I usually get puzzled looks.

People often respond with, “Right, those negative beliefs were adaptive when people were kids.”

But here’s what I really mean: they are rational now, in adulthood. They still make sense. They still help us survive.

Think about someone who grew up in a typical middle- or upper-class home in Western society.

She might have learned that the safest way to belong was to stay responsible—organizing things, anticipating others’ needs, taking care of herself and everyone else. He might have learned that the safest way to belong was to meet expectations in the eyes of others or else stay under the radar.

These weren’t just childhood coping strategies. These adaptations may still be needed today. They may still create a sense of relative safety and belonging. They likely still protect against unbearable feelings like emptiness, exhaustion, rage, and shame.

“Letting go” of core beliefs and their accompanying strategies is incredibly hard. It’s not just dropping old habits or seeing things differently. It’s dismantling the very scaffolding that holds up our inner world. Without that scaffolding, we risk being overwhelmed by feelings we’ve never had support to face.

I recently worked with someone—let’s call her Mia—who was the glue that held everyone together.

At work, she was the one who stayed late, sending the emails no one else thought to send, catching the mistakes before they caused problems. At home, she was the planner, the one who kept the calendar straight, who anticipated what her partner or kids would need before they asked. With friends, she was the reliable one who showed up when others didn’t.

On the outside, Mia looked composed and competent. Inside, she was tired—so tired she sometimes fantasized about disappearing for a week with no phone, no one needing anything from her. But that fantasy was terrifying, too. If she collapsed into her exhaustion and pain, who would want her?

So she pressed harder. When things didn’t go according to plan, she blamed herself, raising the bar higher still. And when people told her to “relax,” or “lighten up,” she didn’t feel liberated— she felt judged and unseen. They didn’t understand: her strategy wasn’t irrational. It was the thing keeping her world from collapsing.

No one had truly seen or been prepared to support Mia with what her strategies were holding: profound fatigue, anger, shame, and the raw fear of being unwanted if she stopped holding it all together. In survival mode, she couldn’t fully recognize this herself.

Of course, she clung tightly to her way of being. Anyone would. Until she had enough support to face those buried feelings, letting go would have risked chaos and retraumatization.

Strategies don’t soften when we sense others see them as irrational or unhealthy. That suggests others are ignorant of the wisdom inside them.

What helps is being fully seen and understood.

When Mia finally felt that I could see, and helped her see for herself, how much her strategies had been carrying—with no one else to see or support her—she could relax from defending herself. Something softened.  She could begin to imagine that transformation might be possible.

Healing doesn’t start with trying to change our negative beliefs and strategies.

It starts with recognizing their intelligence. By honoring their ongoing truth.

When someone can look at us and say not just, “Of course you did that. It makes sense.” But also, “Of course you’re still doing that. No one has truly seen and had the capacity to support you with all that you’re carrying.”

With that degree of understanding and acceptance, a new reality begins to form.

We can rest. And in that resting, new possibilities emerge.

Photo by Harry Phạm from Pexels.