How do I build a sense of worth that isn’t constantly slipping through my fingers?

I keep waiting to feel that I’m finally enough. I’ve worked hard, am in the process of changing careers to be more of service to others, gone to therapy. I go to the gym, eat the right food, have built things I’m proud of. And yet nothing sticks. Every time I hit a goal, there’s this tiny burst of pride, then it’s gone.

Lately, I’ve noticed how tangled this has become with how I see my body. I’ve been training and eating well for ages, but I still feel ashamed when I look in the mirror, as though I’ve failed some invisible test. People tell me I look great but it doesn’t land. There’s this constant hum of “not good enough” running underneath everything, no matter what I do.

The worst part is that I know what’s going on. I can name it: shame, a need for external validation. But naming it doesn’t make it go away. It feels as though I’m performing endless autopsies on my self-esteem, again and again, searching for a cause of death.

How do I stop living like this? How do I build a sense of worth that isn’t constantly slipping through my fingers?

Eleanor says: The new year brings so many ways to establish, at last, that we’re enough. New calendar, new routine, new diet, new me. So many are physical: bodies as a symbol of worth, achievement, discipline. For a lot of people, exactly as you’ve described, the promise doesn’t quite work – it starts to feel like filling a sieve. I keep pouring in evidence that I’m attractive, productive, so why don’t I feel like I’m enough? Why isn’t it working?

Bear with me on this, but I think looking into the distance can be a useful way of correcting that. We are mortal. We are going to age. You’ll have wrinkles and grey hair. You’ll feel old. People you love will die. You’ll die.

I know this sounds morbid; “Well, you’ll die” was probably not what you thought you’d hear in response to “How can I build a sense of self worth?”

But I don’t mean it just as nihilism. The reality of death does force some clarity about what’s valuable about us; clarity that can go missing in the daily grasping for control over our schedules, our bodies. What do you want said at your funeral? What will the people who love you miss about you? Almost certainly the answer is not how much you went to the gym; which meal prep method you used; how well you did the things you were Supposed To Do To Be Good Enough. Here he lies, may he rest in peace; he ate the right food. We gather to cremate her; such a small waist.

The things you will be cherished for in age and mortality will be idiosyncratic. They’ll be the unique combination of things that only you are. They will not be how well you adhere to universal standards – especially not ones about fitness, or the way your body looks.

I find thinking about this can be a useful way to build self-worth that actually belongs to you. We can make a weird mistake when we’re trying to prove our worth to ourselves: we measure on short timelines, and by universal standards. Life gets anxiously assessed by the day, the hour: was my time optimised, my macros hit, my emails sent? This doesn’t build a sense of self-esteem, because ticking these boxes is not what we truly value in people, including ourselves – not when we think about a whole life.

Sometimes you have to look through the eyes of the people closest to you to get the proper read on why you’re worthy of esteem. That perspective looks at the individual, one-off person you are. It doesn’t look at how well you measured up to generic expectations of achievement or appearance.

If building self-esteem in your own eyes is difficult, it could help to look at how you’d like to be missed when you’re gone.

This letter has been edited for clarity and length.

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