The Overachiever Diaries: Why Can’t I Just Chill?

Hey there! I’m Juliana, 34, your new favorite chaotic-overachiever-in-recovery. Welcome to my world—a place where “fun” and “quirky” collide with “wait, did I just overthink that?” vibes. Right now, I’m on this wild journey of finishing my website for my artistic masterpiece, aka my new book, Wicked Ties. (Yes, it’s out, and no, I’m not vibrating with happiness like a normal person…more on that in a sec.)

Here’s the thing: I’ve been reflecting. You know those moments where you achieve something incredible, and instead of basking in the glory, you’re like, “What? Me? Oh, it’s nothing.” That’s me, all the time. I take myself for granted so much that my victories feel like just another Tuesday. And, oh boy, is that a toxic loop. Let me backtrack a bit.

I’m the child of divorce, a recovering people-pleaser, and abandonment issues? Yeah, they’ve got my name on speed dial. Overachieving has been my survival mode—a way to collect crumbs of validation that say, “Hey, you’re special.” Because, spoiler alert, no one ever handed me unconditional love on a silver platter. So, I’ve always worked ridiculously hard to prove to myself (and, okay, everyone else) that I’m worth it.

Moving from Brazil to Canada was a HUGE deal. Picture this: me on an Air Canada flight, gripping the armrest as the plane takes off. I had no clue what I was doing, just that it was completely insane for someone like me, who thrives on routine and consistency, to throw herself into a pool of who knows. Fast forward a few months, and I was told it would be “impossible” to get into college in six months. Cue overachiever mode: 100%. Challenge accepted. I went to battle, entered a Marketing and Advertising program, graduated with honors, and basically told myself, “Yeah, I’m that girl.”

Here’s the rub: achieving something hard doesn’t feel as amazing when you’re addicted to the cycle. The high of success is quickly replaced by, “What’s next?” And, let me tell you, that’s exhausting. Case in point: today at work, a sweet coworker said, “You must be vibrating with happiness—your book is out!” And I froze. My confused face must’ve said it all because she kept going, “You know, Wicked Ties?” Oh. Right. My book. The thing I poured my heart into. Why wasn’t I celebrating?

Because deep down, I’m still chasing this ridiculous need to prove I’m doing enough. And when you’re trapped in that cycle, nothing ever feels like enough. My family? Proud, sure, but they wish I’d written in Portuguese. My friends? Cool but indifferent. Me? Well, let’s just say I’m not giving myself a gold star anytime soon.

Here’s the kicker: I don’t want to spend my life chasing the next achievement just to feel “worthy.” I’ve decided it’s time to rewrite the narrative. It’s okay to just be. I don’t need every milestone to scream, “Look at me! I’m special!”

So, here’s to giving myself permission to pause. To celebrate the big wins—even if no one else does. To remind myself that I am enough. Period.

I don’t really know how to end this, so I’ll just say this: until my next reflective midnight moment (probably with my cat), here’s to being messy, overachieving, and learning to just exist.

Catch you later,
Juliana