The Trap of Performance: And the Quiet Courage to Choose Something Different

I was 16 when I made the decision not to sit for one of my most important exams.
It wasn’t because I hadn’t studied. It wasn’t a lack of ambition. It was something deeper — a quiet collapse inside me. My thoughts were spiraling: failure, shame, letting everyone down. I knew that sitting in that exam hall would break something in me that might never heal.

So I stopped. I left. I made the only decision I could in that moment: I chose my well-being over performance. And for the first time, I truly listened to myself.

At the time, it looked like failure — to others, to society, even to my family. But in truth? It was the first act of self-trust I had ever made.

Today, I’m a parent — and my own daughter will be sitting her GCSEs next year.
In our home, the realities of exam pressure are very much alive. The timetables, the mock tests, the comparison with peers — it’s all real. It’s a constant undercurrent in our daily lives. And I feel it in my body as much as I see it in hers.
And I’m not alone in this.
We’re seeing more and more children being referred for anxiety. There’s been a significant rise in cases where the primary concern is anxiety — particularly among children and young people under 17. In the last year alone, referrals have more than doubled. Waitlists are growing. Support systems are overwhelmed. Many families are facing this quietly, unsure how to ask for help or even recognise what’s happening.
This isn’t a rare crisis. It’s becoming the new norm — and that’s exactly why we need to talk about it.

Anxiety doesn’t always sound like “I’m anxious.” It looks like your child freezing before a test, staying up too late to recheck their notes, or refusing to talk about school altogether.
Sometimes it shows up as tears over nothing. Sometimes it’s anger. Sometimes it’s silence. Sometimes, they just say: “I don’t care anymore.”
But underneath all of that is often something unspoken: “I’m scared and I don’t know how to tell you.” “I feel like I’ll never be enough.” “I can’t keep up — and I don’t know what to do.”
These are not attention-seeking behaviours. They’re survival strategies.

We tell children to be resilient. To try harder. To stay focused. But we rarely ask — at what cost?
The pressure to perform is no longer just academic. It’s emotional, social, internalised. Success has become tied to identity. If they don’t perform, they believe they are the failure.

And let’s be honest — we didn’t invent this pressure for them. We inherited it.

So many of us were raised in homes where love was conditional, where worth came from gold stars, grades, and approval. Where rest was laziness and asking for help meant weakness.
That legacy didn’t disappear. It morphed. And now, we’re watching our children carry it — unless we choose to put it down.

After I walked away from that exam, I spent a year outside the system. I didn’t go to many social gatherings. I didn’t eat much. I barely spoke. I spent time in nature. I returned to the chants my mother had taught me.

I breathed deeper. Slowly, I recovered.
When I returned to education, I did well — but not because I had forced myself to. It was because I had aligned. I chose a different path, one that fit who I truly was: Arts and Humanities. Not what society expected. But what felt like truth.
That choice disappointed others. But it saved me.
And now, it allows me to help others — not just from theory, but from a space of deep lived experience.

It begins with asking better questions.

Instead of asking, “How do I make my child succeed?”
Pause and reflect: “What does success really mean to us?”

Instead of “How do I fix this?”
Try asking: “What kind of support did I never receive — and how can I offer it now?”

“Sometimes a change in perspective begins with a gentler, more curious question.”

You don’t need a parenting manual or a psychology degree. You need presence. Curiosity. Courage. And permission — to learn, to change, to lead your family differently.
Because if you’re reading this, you’re likely one of the first in your family to stop and question the old way. And that alone is powerful.

This isn’t a story about exams. It’s a story about pressure, inherited patterns, and the courage to choose something different — for ourselves and our children.

You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be present. That, alone, is enough to begin the shift.

Give yourself 10 quiet minutes to explore these questions. You can write, speak them aloud, or simply feel them.

• What did success mean in your childhood? How is it different now? Did love or safety feel tied to performance?
• How is your child’s experience of school different from yours — and how is it the same? What pressures are new? What ones have stayed hidden?
• Do you feel trapped by the norms of parenting, performance, or perfection? If so, what would freedom look like?
• When was the last time you paused to ask your child: What do you want? What might they say if given the space?
• What would it look like to raise a child who feels safe being average — and wildly loved anyway?
• What support do you need to stay grounded while your child navigates exam pressure? What kind of support were you never given — and how can you give it now?

You don’t have to answer them all. Just begin where one feels true.

P.S. Whenever You’re Ready… Here’s How I Can Support You or Your Child

Read more blog posts like this — explore free content with parenting insights, stories from my work and personal life, transformations, and reflections on cultural influence, migration, family constellation, and life in a home away from home.
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Attend a Family Constellation Workshop — a powerful experience to uncover inherited patterns and restore balance in the family system. These workshops offer depth, perspective, and a collective space for healing.

You don’t have to figure it all out today. But you don’t have to do it alone either.