As a psychologist, I have often worked with teenagers and adults who can’t point to a single traumatic event in their past, but who carry a quiet heaviness — a sense that they were never particularly good at anything. These are often the clients who say things like:
“I was never the top of the class, never the best at sports, not the worst either — just… there.”
“I tried hard, I really did. But I always felt like I was chasing something. Trying to be seen.”
“I feel like I’ve spent my whole life proving myself — and I’m not sure to who.”
What they describe isn’t the fallout of acute trauma, but something more subtle and often harder to name: the chronic, corrosive experience of feeling mediocre. Not exceptional. Not impressive. Just constantly striving, always falling slightly short. And over time, this too leaves a wound.
The Unseen Wound of Emotional Invalidation
Much of what we now understand about developmental trauma has expanded to include what didn’t happen — the affirmations that never came, the sense of being deeply seen and celebrated for simply being oneself. As Dr. Bessel van der Kolk (2014) reminds us in The Body Keeps the Score, trauma is not just what happens to us, but how our nervous system responds when we feel overwhelmed, unsupported, or unseen.
I often meet adults who grew up in “stable” homes — where no abuse occurred, no crises erupted — but who internalised a message that being “average” meant being invisible. Their accomplishments were quietly acknowledged, but rarely celebrated. Their struggles were tolerated but not deeply explored. In this climate, the child learns to equate visibility with achievement — and worth with performance.
This kind of chronic emotional misattunement is what psychologist Dr. Jonice Webb (2013) describes as Childhood Emotional Neglect — a silent, pervasive trauma that leaves children feeling like their inner world doesn’t really matter. These children often grow into adults who feel empty, disconnected from their passions, and uncertain of their own identity.
Striving to Be Someone — Without Knowing Who
In therapy, I often explore the origins of perfectionism and people-pleasing with clients. Many trace these behaviours back to school years, where they never won the race, never got picked first, never heard the kind of feedback that said, “You shine. You’re special.” Instead, they absorbed the quieter message: “Try harder. You’re nearly there. Maybe next time.”
This constant striving creates what psychologist Dr. Kristin Neff (2011) calls contingent self-worth — a fragile sense of self that depends on external validation. These clients rarely feel safe to rest. They’re exhausted, but still pushing. They can’t fully enjoy their achievements, because they’re already worrying about the next benchmark.
When I ask, “Who are you trying to impress?” the answer is often unclear. Some name a critical parent or a high-achieving sibling. Others shrug and say, “I don’t know — maybe everyone?” What they describe resonates with the work of Alice Miller (1997), who wrote about the “gifted child” — not gifted in talent, but in their ability to adapt, to perform, to try to become what others seemed to want. These children lose touch with their authentic self, replacing it with a series of roles designed to win approval. The truth is this “trauma of mediocrity” can at times be self inflicted, it isn’t something that has been done to them, as much as an inner feeling of self doubt which was never addressed in early childhood, resulting in a life of emotional insecurity.
The Long Shadow of “Almost”
One of the most painful aspects of this experience is the grief it leaves behind — the grief of never being exceptional, never being chosen, never hearing, “That was incredible.” This grief is rarely named because the child didn’t experience an obvious loss. But in therapy, it surfaces as a dull ache: Why wasn’t I enough?
Over time, these internalised beliefs can manifest in symptoms we readily recognise: anxiety, depression, low self-esteem, chronic self-doubt, burnout, and imposter syndrome (Clance & Imes, 1978). I see it in the young adult who over-works at university, the middle-aged professional who can’t celebrate her promotion, the teenager who gives up guitar because he’s not “naturally gifted.”
This “invisible wound” leaves people constantly comparing themselves to others — and finding themselves lacking. They live in what Brown (2010) calls the “never enough” culture: never successful enough, attractive enough, talented enough, thin enough. And because their value feels so conditional, any perceived failure feels like proof of unworthiness.
Therapy as a Space for Reclamation
In therapy, the work becomes not about helping someone become “great,” but helping them feel whole. That starts with naming the wound: the emotional pain of mediocrity, the grief of invisibility, the legacy of contingent worth. It’s about gently unhooking from the myth that worth must be earned through excellence.
I often invite clients into self-compassion practices (Neff, 2011), encouraging them to offer themselves the kind of warmth and affirmation they longed for as children. We explore what it might feel like to rest in being, not doing. To lift that instrument and play again — not for skill or applause, but for joy. These are radical acts for people who have spent their lives in performance mode.
In some cases, we work with inner child parts using approaches like Internal Family Systems (Schwartz, 2001), where the adult self learns to tend to the younger self who felt “almost enough” but never quite. That child may still be waiting to hear: You did well. I’m proud of you. And often the realisation evolves – that it wasn’t so much about being the best, but rather the recognition of feeling self worth, valued and being enough – just as you are.
Letting Go of the Ghost Audience
Perhaps most powerfully, therapy helps people examine the internal audience they still perform for — the invisible critics and impossible standards they carry inside. Often, these voices are echoes of early relationships, schoolyard dynamics, or societal ideals. Unpacking these voices allows people to ask: Do I still want to live according to these rules? Who am I when I stop trying to impress anyone?
For many clients, this is the turning point — not a sudden burst of confidence, but a slow awakening. A realisation that their presence, their effort, their essence was never meant to be measured against others. That they were not “mediocre” — they were simply never met with the kind of attuned reflection that told them they mattered, regardless of the scoreboard.
In Closing: You Were Never Average
What I’ve learned over time is this: the experience of feeling mediocre is not about lack of ability. It’s about lack of recognition — the deep human need to be seen, understood, and valued for who we are, not just what we achieve. And when that need isn’t met in childhood, we spend our lives chasing it.
But healing begins when we stop chasing and start turning inward. When we meet our past selves with compassion. When we release the myth of “greatness” and begin to reclaim our worth.
You were never average. You were always becoming. And that is enough.
References
Brown, B. (2010). The Gifts of Imperfection. Hazelden Publishing.
Clance, P. R., & Imes, S. A. (1978). The imposter phenomenon in high achieving women: Dynamics and therapeutic intervention. Psychotherapy: Theory, Research & Practice, 15(3), 241–247.
Miller, A. (1997). The Drama of the Gifted Child: The Search for the True Self. Basic Books.
Neff, K. D. (2011). Self-compassion: The Proven Power of Being Kind to Yourself.
William Morrow. Schwartz, R. C. (2001). Internal Family Systems Therapy. Guilford Press.
Van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Viking.
Webb, J. (2013). Running on Empty: Overcome Your Childhood Emotional Neglect. Morgan James Publishing.
Dr M’s thoughts 