09/22/2026
Working on my doctorate changed the way I think about overuse, overdoing, and overachieving. I used to think about these mainly in terms of the physical demands we place on our bodies, especially with a disability.
But now I understand how much of “overdoing” can begin somewhere we can't see: in the thoughts, expectations, beliefs, and fears that influence what we ask of our bodies.
I learned that firsthand.
Growing up with a partial hand, I became an overachiever at a very young age. Some of that was genuine enjoyment and curiosity, while some of it was a partially successful strategy to manage how other people saw me.
My goal was to make them notice my different hand less. Then something complicated happened: when I got really good at achieving, I received praise and approval. The strategy that began as a way to feel accepted, competent, and included became a way of living.
Years later, I can see that I accomplished some things I genuinely wanted, while I did other things because I didn't feel like I had a choice.
I'm proud of what I've accomplished. I just wish I had understood that being capable and having something to prove are two different things.
This isn't every child's story. It's one pattern that can develop for some children with limb differences, and one I recognize in myself.
If you're raising a child with a physical disability, I hope you won't read this as something else you should have been doing all along. No matter your child’s age, it's never too late to start noticing what might be underneath “proving they can” and starting a conversation with your child.
Instead of only asking “Can you do it?” parents might also ask:
🩵 “Are you doing this because you want to, or because you feel like you have to prove that you can?”
🩵 “Would you still want to do it if nobody saw you do it?”
