Work is only one domain of life, but is it really all that different from the others?

About how work may reactivate older patterns of relating, why professional environments can feel both emotionally intense and deeply fragile, and how burnout, repetition, and self-awareness become intertwined in the way we navigate professional life.

We often divide our lives into compartments — the professional, the personal, the social, the intimate. We develop different expectations for each of these domains. At times, we may even feel as though we are different people within them, behaving as different versions of ourselves depending on the context.

We come to believe this separation is evidence of maturity, adaptation, or professionalism. At work, for example, we are expected to behave in specific ways, and we are valued and evaluated according to those expectations.

While these separations do exist, there is inevitably some continuity across them — within ourselves, within others, and within the situations we encounter.

Have I been here before?

We speak of demanding bosses, intrusive coworkers, micromanagement, or the pain of being overlooked as though these experiences existed in isolation. Yet often there are invisible threads connecting these encounters to earlier experiences in our lives.

Workplaces may expose us to completely new people and experiences, but to some extent, many (not all) situations — and many people — are repetitions. A new boss may share striking similarities with important figures from our past. Certain workplaces may unconsciously revive older relational dynamics.

When we overlook these continuities, we may suffer intensely while believing that some wounded part of ourselves — and some “enemies” — exist only at work.

If we pause long enough, we may notice something about the magnitude of our own responses. We may become surprised by how deeply affected we are by a supervisor, an institution, or a workplace conflict. And we may wonder whether that present situation carries layers from our past.

When we pursue that line of thought, we may reach a point where we are able to give each component its proper weight: what started in the present, what comes from the past.

What is more, we may be able to remove some of the layers that are not necessarily called for in the current situation — both in ourselves and in others.

My boss at work may resemble the overcritical or neglectful parent whom I was never able to please, whose attention I could only obtain when I was perfect. But they are not the same person.

Why reenactments at work feel so intense — and so fragile

In many families, relationships are sustained by an assumption of permanence. People may show their best and worst selves while the relationship itself remains relatively durable. Of course, there are important exceptions, and many family relationships do fracture, but intimate relationships often contain some possibility of repair.

Parents do not literally fire children, nor children their parents. Spouses do not usually divorce after the first argument. If conflict emerges, there may still be room to restore the relationship.

Some work environments may resemble families more than many actual families do. Dysfunctional workplaces may, for example, have bosses who behave like “authoritarian parents” and who are satisfied only with highly submissive children. Under that kind of leadership, employees may not only feel that they are being treated like children, but they may also use older ways of coping under difficulty. Compliance, rebellion, helplessness, perfectionism, hypervigilance, withdrawal — all may reappear with surprising force.

Still, at work we cannot react the same way we might react within our families. Employment is inherently conditional. It depends on contracts, evaluations, probationary periods, letters of recommendation, references, and the judgment of people who may have enormous control over our future. To react angrily at work, for example, may cost us our job even when we had all the reasons — past and present — to feel angry.

Being caught in workplace dynamics without always having a feasible way out rapidly becomes a source of suffering that affects all domains of our lives. In many cases, it may result in burnout, anxiety, depression, or the opening of older wounds, including PTSD.

Navigating work difficulties with self-awareness

To say that our workplace difficulties will help us develop awareness of who we were and where we come from seems too pale a silver lining when we are in the thick of our suffering. That awareness, however, can help us navigate the actual problems before us.

We are often advised to navigate work difficulties professionally, but we may forget that we should also navigate them with awareness of ourselves.

To step back, pause, and understand how much of the present relates to the past may help us tolerate certain situations with greater clarity and proportion.

Sometimes the people and situations hurting us are not the original injury, but repetitions of something older. And understanding that may allow us to recognize that not every action around us is specifically designed to wound us. Many people are acting from their own fears, ambitions, limitations, or needs. We are caught in their world as much as they are caught in ours.

Likewise, our reactions may not always reflect who those people truly are, but rather what they represent to us and the reactivation of older ways of reacting. We may react with perfectionism, withdrawal, compliance, overachievement, or anger — the only ways we once knew how to survive.

To realize that some of our feelings, perceptions, and reactions may come from the past does not mean that we will reach a place where nothing affects us anymore or where difficult people suddenly become easy to work with.

It may, however, allow some distance from the immediacy of our reactions. It may help us respond with greater discernment rather than simply reenacting older patterns of feeling, thinking, and reacting.

To realize that parts of our past contribute to these situations does not mean that we can erase or reshape our ways of feeling, thinking, and reacting overnight.

Instead, that understanding should be accompanied by some compassion toward ourselves. That understanding can guide us toward an honest assessment of who we are and what actually works for us: what kind of leadership, what kind of environment, what kind of structure allows us to function well.

To know ourselves does not mean that we will stop compromising or that we will reject every environment that does not fully meet our needs. But it may give us a clearer sense of what to look for, what to avoid, and what we can realistically sustain over time.

With that knowledge, we may be better able to decide — with some balance between integrity and realism — what is possible and what is not, when to stay and when to move on.

- Helder Araujo MD PhD 

Is There a Right Way?

On decision-making, uncertainty, and learning to live without guarantees

When we scroll through social media, we encounter an endless stream of videos, reels, and advice from people whose credentials are often unclear—yet who confidently tell us that we are doing something wrong and that they have the answer to the right way to do it.

There is a right way to paint our walls, a right way to grow plants, a right way to purchase items, a right way to organize our homes, a right way to eat, a right way to sleep, a right way to live.

There is even a right way and a wrong way to approach things we may never have previously thought required instruction. There is a right way to be environmentally friendly and a wrong way to be environmentally friendly. There are companies we should support and companies we should not. There are products that are “toxic” and others that are “less toxic.” The list goes on and on.

Three questions arise from this increasingly prevalent phenomenon:

• Are all decisions equally important?


• Who has the answers?


• Is there really a right way?

Not All Decisions Are Equally Important

When every decision must be optimized to achieve the best possible outcome, every decision begins to feel equally consequential. Choosing a cereal brand may carry a strange psychological intensity similar to choosing a career path. When everything feels equally important, we risk allocating our time and our mental and emotional resources indiscriminately.

Part of knowing ourselves is knowing what matters most to us. This evolves over time as we grow and our circumstances change. Still, establishing priorities helps us decide where to invest our effort and where to conserve it.

What matters most to us varies depending on many factors. Some decisions may be trivial in the grand scheme of things but touch on topics that are dear to us, where we want to exercise our subjectivity. In some cases, for example, it may not even be essential that a decision be the best possible one; it may simply need to be ours.

Once we establish priorities, we can decide how much effort to allocate. Some problems may not be ours after all, because they do not truly matter to us.

When decisions feel less important or less consequential, a coin toss—or even delegating the choice to something like a ChatGPT algorithm—may suffice.

When they feel more important and consequential, we may need to deliberate more than we initially wanted. At the same time, let us not forget the power of the unconscious. Sometimes, sleeping on it may truly help.

Prioritizing based on personal importance is only one method. We can also prioritize decisions based on time and consequences. What must be decided now? What can wait? What is truly at stake? Sometimes asking, “What is the worst that can happen?” helps us move forward—whether that means finding the right word, the right timing, or deciding whether to send that message.

Who Has the Answers?

One premise behind the overload of advice is that someone out there has the answers—not only to questions we already have, but to questions we did not even know to ask. Should we trust these people? Should we trust algorithms such as ChatGPT?

There is nothing wrong with outsourcing decisions. In fact, we have been doing it since the beginning of life. As infants, we rely entirely on others to interpret our needs. We cry, and someone else must decide what that cry means and how to respond. Our distress becomes their task to regulate. Psychoanalysts describe this process as projective identification.

As we grow, caregivers introduce rules and guidelines that help structure the world and provide safety. Over time, we notice inconsistencies. We see adults breaking the very rules they teach. We realize that rules are contextual and imperfect. We cannot wait to grow up and decide everything by ourselves.

Yet even as adults, we never fully stop relying on others. Most of us oscillate between dependence and independence depending on context and circumstance.

There is nothing inherently wrong with having someone else hold an answer for us. Some problems, for instance, may be too paralyzing and can make us feel like a helpless child. In those moments, it can be comforting to let someone else carry the decision.

At the same time, relying too heavily on others may bring problems. It may, for example, challenge our sense of agency. Excessive dependence can strain relationships by placing the burden of decision-making onto others.

On the other hand, excessive independence is not necessarily good either. Being too independent may limit our ability to ask for help or collaborate. In relationships, it may be experienced as emotional distance or rigidity.

And Let Us Not Forget Self-Discovery

Millions of people lived before us. They faced similar challenges, failures, and successes. Why should we deprive ourselves of accumulated wisdom? Few of us want to learn everything through painful trial and error.

Yet some lessons must be learned personally.

Learning about ourselves is not only about discovering what we choose; it is also about discovering how we choose. How do we tolerate loss? How do we face ambiguity? How do we respond when certainty is unavailable?

Self-discovery extends beyond the “hows” into the “whys”—why we are the way we are, why certain decisions matter to us, and why others do not.

As we discover ourselves, we clarify what truly matters to us. That clarity may evolve over time, but it helps us determine which decisions deserve our energy and which do not.

Is There Really a Right Way?

Since the emergence of life, organisms have had to distinguish effective from ineffective strategies. At a basic biological level, right and wrong can mean survival or death. As complexity extends into psychological and social life, the idea of a single right way becomes more elusive.

It is true that science and accumulated knowledge have illuminated many domains of life. In some areas, there truly are better ways of doing things. Yet, there are domains where variability and subjectivity are so great that we may never have definitive answers.

Many decisions resist absolute evaluation because they unfold over time, across relationships, and within changing circumstances.

No matter how long we deliberate, or whether we choose on our own or with the help of others, choices are entangled with loss, uncertainty, and limited control.

Choosing one path often means leaving others behind. We gain, but we also lose. We celebrate successes, yet we may grieve losses. What is more, we grieve not only concrete losses, but also imagined futures and unrealized possibilities.

With each decision, we momentarily embrace a sense of certainty. Yet no matter how carefully we deliberate, uncertainty cannot be eliminated.

Our decisions can only go so far. With each decision, we take matters into our hands and control some factors, but we cannot control everything. Outcomes depend on factors beyond us—other people, timing, circumstance, chance, or, for some, destiny.

Living Without a Single Right Way

Trusting that there is a perfect solution for every problem—or that someone else has it—is not always possible, particularly when decisions involve complex aspects of one’s life.

Eventually, there will always be areas where we are left with ourselves—along with uncertainty, losses, and perhaps regrets.

One way or another, we must learn to live with ambiguity, imperfection, and loss. Where there is life, there is death. Where there is gain, there is loss. Where there is certainty, there is also doubt.

And sometimes, all a decision gives us is that lesson.

— Helder Araujo MD PhD

Am I Normal or Do I Need Help? When Is the Right Time to Seek Mental Health Support?

Am I Normal? Do I Need Help?

These are questions we often ask ourselves when life feels heavy or confusing. We all know there are many ways to feel, think, and behave—even if some patterns are more common than others. Yet, we may still wonder whether our ways are the “right ones.”

While life brings moments of joy, it also brings suffering—moments we often wish we could escape. At times, we may even ask ourselves: Am I suffering too much?

Suffering can arise from circumstances beyond our control, but sometimes we also hold ourselves responsible for our own pain—or even the pain experienced by others. It is natural to ask: Should I change my ways?

When Seeking Help Is Clear and Urgent

There are situations where it is clear that professional mental health help is necessary—when a person is in danger, putting others at risk, or unable to function at a basic level. In such cases, intervention is urgent and may even involve involuntary psychiatric holds. Please call 911 if you or someone you know is in any life-threatening situation.

If you are experiencing thoughts of self-harm or suicide, or are in emotional crisis, call or text the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline at 988, or chat online at 988lifeline.org.

When Seeking Help Is Less Clear and Less Urgent

Outside of these extreme situations, a useful way to consider seeking help is to reflect on whether your thoughts, feelings, and behaviors are impacting your personal life—how you experience your internal and external worlds, relate to others, and function in daily life.

Common examples of mental struggles include:

• Anxiety about small decisions may prevent you from enjoying moments that used to feel easy.

• Negative thoughts may make everyday interactions stressful, causing withdrawal from friends or loved ones.

• Frequent arguments or disconnection from people who matter to you can leave you feeling isolated.

• Daily routines like work, school, or self-care may feel overwhelming.

• Intense mood swings can leave you exhausted and uncertain about your reactions.

Observing patterns of suffering and disruption in one’s well-being and daily life can help you determine whether seeking mental health support is the right step. Sometimes, an outside observer—such as a friend or family member—may notice these struggles more clearly than we do ourselves. If you—or someone in your life—feel that these struggles are affecting your well-being, it may be time to reach out for professional help.

When Everything Seems to Be Right

Mental health, particularly through psychotherapy or psychoanalysis, can also be approached as a path to self-awareness—even when everything feels “right” and you do not experience obvious symptoms. This perspective emphasizes curiosity and self-discovery more than simple symptom reduction. It invites exploration of our challenges as windows into our conscious and unconscious experiences, offering insights that illuminate patterns from our past and present and provide a deeper understanding of ourselves.

Mental Health as Part of Your Life Journey

Wherever you are in life, there is likely room for mental health support. It all begins with the first step. When in doubt, seeking help is never the wrong choice. Even when everything feels right, mental health support may help you continue your journey of self-discovery and move closer to your true potential and well-being. And who wouldn’t want that?

— Helder Araujo, MD PhD