The Tyranny of Shoulds
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Standing in my yard, chuck-it ball launcher in hand, waiting for my springer spaniel to return from the brush with her fluorescent orange ball, I had one of those moments that signal a deepening of awareness. Maybe your experience is different, but I find these moments nearly impossible to put into words. That’s why I started with what I was doing, not how I was *being*. Because awareness is an experience of body, mind, and spirit - difficult to bring the formless into language.
When you feel a shift, you might describe it as lighter, more open, or more attuned. More present. What that means to me may not be what it means to you. But this particular moment had a savory texture to it. It’s important because it’s a signpost: a reminder that all the practices, reflections, and connections I’ve cultivated are integrating—even if only for a moment. It’s a taste of peace that connects my *Me-ness* to the fabric of the universe, holding the balance between oneness and separateness.
And then my dog snapped me out of it. She jumped up, annoyed that I was lost in thought, not throwing the ball. And, honestly, I had to laugh. Because isn’t that the nature of these moments? They can’t last. Balls need throwing, emails need sending, and humans need to drive their cars somewhere to attend to yet another obligation. That’s life, right? We have these fleeting glimpses of spaciousness, and then it’s back to the grind.
But in that brief experience, I noticed something simultaneously familiar and new. I felt compassion for myself. I was at ease with my humanity, in a period of time where I was finding the right balance of action and gentleness. And that’s what compassion is—not the permissiveness we sometimes fear it means, nor the toxic positivity of cheerleading ourselves through unrealistic to-do lists. No, it’s a nuanced quality. It’s the kind of feeling you have when you know what needs to be done and you do it—but not at the expense of your own well-being.
You don’t have to be running your own bricks-and-mortar business to understand how oppressive your inner world can get. All you have to do is be human. Modern life has taken our natural expectations and multiplied them a thousandfold. Like turning a simple sponge cake into a towering mille-feuille, each layer more precarious than the last. Let me give you a few examples of how technology has upped the ante on our expectations:
* You carry a tiny, powerful computer everywhere—one that doesn’t just have apps for productivity and reminders. It also holds multiple apps demanding your attention: texts, emails, phone calls, social media notifications… Each of these creates new threads of thought like, “I should text so-and-so back” or “I need to wish this person a happy birthday” or “I should respond to that email, but I don’t have the information they want, so I’ll avoid it and feel guilty.”
* And if you’re like most people, you also have a laptop—and maybe even a separate work computer—each with its own separate set of logins, programs, and mental load.
* On top of that, the internet is full of information on every imaginable topic. Whether it’s garbage or brilliance, it doesn’t matter. Because if you’re someone who likes to cook, research health remedies, or find exercises for low back pain, then you’re going to spend hours sifting through articles trying to find the best solution.
* And when you do find a solution? You might buy it. You might even buy it online. Which means you’ll either love it, or it won’t work. And now you’ve got another item to ship back or a customer service issue to resolve.
It’s overwhelming, isn’t it? This accumulation isn’t even limited to what you intentionally sought out. Suggestions and best practices bombard you every day. They become detritus cluttering your mental landscape. Incomplete ideas and half-baked advice pile up, fertilizing the thoughts that fuel your “tyranny of shoulds.” That incessant inner voice saying you should be doing this or that. And definitely not the way you’re doing it now.
It’s like the sadness we felt as kids when we managed to draw a horse’s head decently but got the proportions all wrong when trying to add the body. Remember those floating equine busts? Those headshot pony portraits were our way of hiding the shame of our failed attempts to complete the drawing. Neither our poor illustrated horses nor our little bodies got the experience of finding ground - believing it to be good enough; elevating the experience over the mind’s perceived standards.
But we’re not kids anymore, and the stakes feel so much higher. We’ve graduated from sadness to anxiety—*anxieties*, really—because the things we’re not doing aren’t as daunting as drawing proportional horse bodies. No, they’re simpler. They’re things like optimal oral hygiene, being on top of your household budget, and spending “quality time” with your kids.
And here’s the kicker: the “shoulds” aren’t just what we’ve been told or researched. We come up with them on our own. We expect our kids to do X, Y, or Z, without considering if that’s a developmentally appropriate expectation. We expect our spouse to respond to our needs, even if we didn’t make those needs clear—because we’ve seen people talk about it on social media, and it seems like they agree.
So where does that leave us? Let me start with the tension between my therapy office and my social life. People ask me if I believe therapy has become a crutch - if people are seeking therapy as a safe haven to nurture their neuroses. I let them know that while I understand their concerns and have space for dialogue on the cultural zeitgeists they’re referring to, it’s not what I experience on the daily. I experience people who very much want to live with ease, because they live with so much shame and worry that they should be doing better. Should be doing differently. I do not encounter people who want sheltered coddling; I encounter people who need reassurance that they are good and worthy just as they are and we can examine how we got here and how we’re going to get to that more easeful space.
What ends the tyrannical reign of the Shoulds? First, it’s about recognizing how arbitrary and unhelpful these expectations often are. Take a moment to reflect on one “should” floating around your brain right now. Pause me if you need to. What is it? How long has this “should” been with you? Has it changed over the years? Or has it stayed rigid, despite all the changes in your life? Is it ever truly satisfied? And if not, what will it take for you to feel like you’ve finally done enough?
These individual thoughts are cheap labor for the mind, even though cumulatively they’re burdensome. It’s so much easier to think about all these things you should or shouldn’t be doing, but your body has to make good on the expectations of the mind. It’s far from an agreement—no compromise was ever made. You just kept piling on ideas about how you should be living without questioning whether it was even reasonable for a human.
Here’s the next step—and I know this might sound provocative—what if you experimented with the Medicine of Enough-ness? With letting go of one or two of these shoulds for a few days? Maybe a week? What if your child didn’t put their shoes on the right way, and you simply noticed it? What if you paused worrying about how your body looks for the rest of the day? Or if you stopped policing your home for cleanliness and embraced the messiness for just a moment?
Your world probably won’t collapse. But your inner world might feel a little more spacious.
And maybe—just maybe—it’s not about hitting all the marks on your invisible scorecard. Self-compassion isn’t about getting it right or making a perfect checklist of what to do differently. It’s about acknowledging that you’re trying—really trying—to do your best in a world that’s more than a bit bonkers. Your best is probably a lot better than you give yourself credit for. Contentment in your life likely hinges on doing less, not more.
Let’s practice.
Place a hand on your heart. Close your eyes. Notice how your feet feel wherever you’re standing. Feel the nuances of the surface beneath them. Swaying might feel soothing. With your awareness centered in your heart space, take a few breaths that feel like they’re wrapping around your heart. See if your eyes will soften. Sighing might help here. Repeat to yourself, or out loud: “Everything will unfold at a human speed. I’ve done enough. I am enough.”
Take another breath—one that feels like a punctuation mark at the end of a sentence written in your heart. Move forward, slower. Take the next moments, minutes, and hours at human speed.
Because when we remember that we are already enough, we start to live like we believe it.
Journaling Prompts:
Reflect on one of your “shoulds” that has been weighing on you. Write down where it came from and what it demands of you. Then, ask yourself: Is this truly necessary? Does it reflect my own values and needs, or is it coming from an external expectation?
Think back to a moment when you felt a sense of ease or peace. Describe the experience in as much sensory detail as you can—what were you doing, feeling, hearing, or seeing? What made that moment stand out as peaceful, and how could you create more moments like it?
Consider an expectation you hold for yourself that has never felt fully “satisfied.” Explore what “good enough” might look like for this expectation. What would it mean to redefine success or contentment in this area of your life?
Create a list of affirmations to support the Medicine of Enoughness. Examples could be: “I am enough, as I am.” “My efforts are enough.” “I am here” (to cultivate presence without pulling yourself into the future). Repeat them to yourself out loud, noticing any resistance or discomfort. What makes these statements feel true or untrue?