What If You Don't Need Another Breakthrough?

I’ve been thinking about how much time we spend trying to become better versions of ourselves. We read books, listen to podcasts, attend workshops, journal about our childhoods, examine our relationships, study our nervous systems, and occasionally spend an entire afternoon trying to figure out why a perfectly innocent comment from someone we love made us want to pack a suitcase and move to Montana.

It’s exhausting being a human being with this much self-awareness.

And I say that as someone who has spent more than twenty years helping people understand themselves. I believe deeply in healing, personal responsibility, emotional intelligence, and the kind of honest inner work that changes how we live. I’ve watched people reclaim their lives after experiences that could have easily convinced them that happiness was no longer available.

But lately, I’ve been wondering whether we’ve created another problem in the process.

What if we’ve become so committed to healing that we’ve forgotten we’re supposed to be living?

There is an enormous industry built around convincing us that something inside us needs fixing. Every emotion has a possible explanation, every relationship difficulty suggests an attachment wound, and every uncomfortable experience offers another opportunity to investigate our childhood. We have names for patterns our grandparents probably would have described as somebody being an asshole, and we can spend three hours discussing the psychological origins of a behavior that might be better addressed by simply deciding to stop doing it.

Don’t misunderstand me. Understanding the origins of our behavior can be incredibly valuable, especially when trauma, mental health conditions, or deeply ingrained survival responses are involved. Sometimes what looks simple from the outside requires years of patient, compassionate work. Healing isn’t always a matter of making a better choice, and nobody should feel ashamed for needing professional support.

Still, I think we’ve reached a strange cultural moment when we can become more interested in explaining our lives than actually experiencing them.

We know our attachment styles but struggle to enjoy a date. We understand our triggers but spend the entire family gathering monitoring ourselves for one. We can identify the exact childhood experience that shaped our fear of rejection, yet we hesitate to call someone who genuinely wants to spend time with us.

Some of us have become so skilled at observing ourselves that we’re barely participating anymore.

And there’s something quietly heartbreaking about that.

I remember a period in my own life when almost everything felt like something I needed to understand. Every relationship carried a lesson, every uncomfortable emotion seemed to reveal another wound, and every setback invited another round of introspection. Much of that work was necessary. It helped me recognize patterns, make different choices, and become more responsible for the way I participated in my relationships.

But somewhere along the way, I also had to recognize that understanding myself wasn’t the same thing as enjoying being myself.

I could spend an afternoon analyzing why I felt disconnected, or I could call someone I loved and make plans to see them. Sometimes the answer really was that simple. Other times I needed deeper work, and learning to recognize the difference became its own kind of maturity.

That’s something I wish we talked about more.

Not every uncomfortable feeling requires an investigation. Sometimes you’re tired, disappointed, overstimulated, hungry, or simply having a bad day. Occasionally your spouse is irritating because your spouse is being irritating, not because your nervous system has identified a reenactment of an unresolved attachment wound from 1987.

Sometimes you just need lunch and a little less bullshit.

There is a kind of freedom in allowing ordinary human experiences to remain ordinary. We can have a difficult conversation without turning it into a complete assessment of our relational health. We can feel insecure without deciding we’ve regressed in our healing. A disagreement doesn’t necessarily mean our emotional safety has collapsed, and a disappointing afternoon doesn’t have to become evidence that we’re living the wrong life.

We are allowed to have experiences without turning every single one into a personal development project.

I think this matters because constant self-monitoring can become its own source of anxiety. When we’re continually checking whether we’re regulated, healed, aligned, attached securely, or responding from our highest selves, we can lose the spontaneity that makes relationships and ordinary life enjoyable.

Imagine trying to dance while simultaneously evaluating your posture, emotional state, childhood associations, and whether your movements reflect an authentic expression of your inner truth.

At some point, somebody needs to turn up the music and tell you to move your ass.

And perhaps that’s part of what genuine healing is supposed to make possible.

We do the work so we can become more available to life, not so we can spend the rest of our lives working on ourselves. We learn emotional regulation so we can remain present during difficult moments. We examine old beliefs so they stop dictating our choices. We establish boundaries so our relationships can become more honest, not so we can spend every conversation searching for violations.

The purpose of healing isn’t to become a person who never experiences discomfort. It’s to become someone who can experience the full range of being human without constantly abandoning themselves in the process.

That includes joy, desire, curiosity, affection, laughter, and the occasional completely ridiculous decision to do something simply because it sounds fun.

I wonder how many people are waiting to feel sufficiently healed before they allow themselves to enjoy their lives.

They’ll start dating when they’ve completely resolved their trust issues. They’ll pursue something meaningful when their confidence improves. They’ll travel when they feel less anxious, create something when they stop fearing criticism, or let themselves be loved when they finally believe they’re worthy of it.

Meanwhile, life continues happening.

Children grow older. Friendships change. Seasons pass. Opportunities come and go. And the imaginary finish line of complete healing keeps moving farther away because being human means there will always be something new to learn.

What if the life you’re preparing yourself to live is already happening?

That question has been sitting with me lately, particularly after returning from Bali. I don’t want to keep turning that experience into a grand spiritual revelation, but one thing it reminded me of was how naturally joy can emerge when we’re fully participating in something. There were moments of exhaustion, discomfort, laughter, curiosity, and genuine wonder, often within the same hour. I wasn’t constantly evaluating what those experiences meant about my psychological development.

I was busy having them.

And I want more of that in ordinary life, not just when I’m traveling somewhere beautiful.

I want conversations that wander into ridiculous territory without needing to become profound. I want meals that take too long because nobody feels like leaving the table. I want to laugh until I can barely breathe, spend time with people who make me feel more like myself, and occasionally do something completely impractical without constructing a therapeutic justification for it.

There is something wonderfully rebellious about enjoying your life without requiring the experience to accomplish anything.

Our culture is obsessed with improvement. We optimize our schedules, track our sleep, monitor our bodies, measure productivity, and search for ways to make every habit more efficient. Even rest has become something we’re supposed to perform correctly. We talk about recovery protocols and nervous system regulation as though sitting outside watching the birds requires a certification program.

Sometimes I wonder whether we’ve become so busy learning how to live well that we’ve made living well unnecessarily complicated.

The spiritual side of this interests me, too.

In Ecclesiastes, there are repeated reflections on the goodness of enjoying food, work, companionship, and the ordinary pleasures available within the life we’ve been given. These aren’t presented as distractions from existence but as gifts within it. Christianity certainly calls us toward growth, repentance, responsibility, and transformation, yet it also contains a deep tradition of gratitude, celebration, fellowship, and joy.

Jesus attended weddings, shared meals, welcomed children, and participated in ordinary human relationships. His life wasn’t presented as an endless seminar on personal improvement.

I think there’s something worth remembering in that.

Maybe we don’t honor God only through the difficult work of examining our faults. Perhaps we also honor the gift of life by actually enjoying it, loving people well, appreciating beauty, and allowing ourselves to experience goodness without immediately asking what lesson we’re supposed to extract from it.

Of course, this doesn’t mean we stop doing the work when something genuinely needs attention. Avoidance can disguise itself as freedom just as easily as constant introspection can disguise itself as growth. There are wounds that require care, behaviors that need changing, and relationships that deserve difficult conversations.

But wisdom includes knowing when to examine something and when to simply live.

There is a difference between being committed to growth and becoming consumed by the idea that you’re never quite good enough as you are. The first opens possibilities. The second can turn your entire existence into a never-ending performance review.

And frankly, I don’t think any of us needs another imaginary supervisor following us around with a clipboard.

Maybe this weekend doesn’t need to become another opportunity to reinvent yourself. Perhaps you don’t need a new morning routine, another breakthrough, or a detailed explanation for every feeling that passes through your body.

You might need to call a friend, kiss your spouse, take your kids somewhere unexpected, sit outside, make something beautiful, or spend an afternoon doing something that serves absolutely no purpose beyond making you happy.

You can return to the deeper work when it genuinely calls for your attention. Nothing important is lost by allowing yourself a little room to breathe, laugh, and participate in the life you’re working so hard to improve.

Because healing was never supposed to become another prison, even one decorated with inspirational quotes and excellent psychological vocabulary.

What if you don’t need another breakthrough today?

What if, just for a little while, you let yourself enjoy the life you’ve already fought so hard to build?

→Here’s a little challenge for your weekend.

Do something that doesn’t improve you, heal you, make you more productive, or teach you a damn thing. Do something simply because it makes you happy.

When was the last time you enjoyed yourself without turning the experience into another opportunity for personal growth?

Tell me one thing that makes you feel ridiculously alive, just for the joy of it. I think we could all use a few ideas.

as always loving and praying for you and our world,

Rene Schooler

@followers

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This post was previously published on medium.com.