“Settling” Is Actually Self-Abuse in Disguise

There is no passion to be found playing small – in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living. Nelson Mandela

In Short

Here’s the uncomfortable truth wrapped in a comfortable sweater: That “good enough” job, relationship, or living conditions you’re tolerating? It’s not prudent compromise—it’s you slowly poisoning yourself with mediocrity, one “it’s fine” at a time. And yes, I’m talking to you, the one who just mentally defended your settling as “being realistic.”

Introduction

Twenty years ago, as a newly qualified doctor, I watched a colleague—brilliant, capable, destined for greatness—accept a position that made her die a little inside each morning. “It pays well,” she’d say, forcing a smile that never quite reached her eyes. “I should be grateful.”

That word—should—haunted me then and haunts me still. After two decades of practising medicine with a focus on stress management, followed by a decade of leading hiking retreats along the Camino de Santiago, I’ve discovered something profound: The most insidious form of self-harm isn’t what we typically imagine. It’s not dramatic or obvious. It’s the quiet, daily betrayal of accepting less than what our souls know we deserve.

Having written eight books on navigating life’s most challenging transitions—from divorce to unexpected illness—and walked alongside hundreds of stressed professionals seeking renewal, I’ve witnessed a pattern so consistent it deserves its own diagnostic code: “Chronic Settling Syndrome.” And unlike other forms of self-harm, society actually applauds you for it.

The Sad Story of Marcus Thornfield

Marcus Thornfield’s alarm pierced through the pre-dawn darkness at 5:47 AM, three minutes before it was set to ring. His body had learned to brace itself, muscles tensing in anticipation of another day that felt like wearing a suit two sizes too small.

The shower ran exactly seven minutes—he’d timed it. The water, always a degree too cold in his modest apartment, sent shivers across his skin. He could afford better; his senior analyst position at Brennan & Associates paid well enough. But moving required energy, and energy was a currency he’d stopped believing he possessed.

The coffee maker gurgled its familiar morning song, filling the kitchen with the bitter aroma of over-roasted beans. Marcus had once been particular about his coffee—single origin, carefully measured, savoured. Now he barely tasted it, the liquid merely fuel for a machine that had forgotten it was human.

His phone buzzed. Sarah, his girlfriend of three years: “Dinner at my parents tonight. Don’t forget. 7 PM.”

His stomach clenched, a familiar knot forming just below his ribs. Sarah was… fine. Kind enough. Pretty enough. Smart enough. Their relationship was a series of “enoughs” that never quite added up to abundance. They hadn’t made love in two months, hadn’t really talked in longer. But she was there, a warm body in a cold bed, someone to list as an emergency contact.

The commute stretched before him like a grey ribbon. The train smelled of wet wool and resignation, packed with faces that mirrored his own—eyes vacant, shoulders curved inward as if protecting something precious that had already been stolen. A young woman beside him hummed softly, and for a moment, Marcus remembered he’d once played guitar. The instrument gathered dust in his closet now, strings probably rusted.

At the office, fluorescent lights buzzed their tuneless tune. His desk—always the same desk, though he’d been promoted twice—faced a wall of motivational posters that felt like mockery. “Reach for the Stars!” one proclaimed, while Marcus reached for his third antacid of the morning.

“Thornfield! My office!”

Richard Brennan’s voice boomed across the cubicle farm. Marcus’s colleagues offered sympathetic glances—everyone knew Brennan’s moods, his talent for making grown professionals feel like scolded children.

The meeting was about the Henderson account. Marcus had known for months that Henderson’s company was haemorrhaging money through suspicious channels, likely fraud, possibly worse. But Brennan wanted the billables, wanted the prestige. “Sometimes we look the other way,” Brennan said, his cologne—too much, always too much—making Marcus’s eyes water. “That’s how the game is played.”

Marcus nodded. He always nodded.

Lunch was a sad desk salad, leaves wilting under the fluorescent glare. He scrolled through LinkedIn, seeing former classmates announcing promotions, startup launches, adventures. His finger hovered over the “Update Profile” button. Instead, he closed the app.

The afternoon dissolved into spreadsheets, each cell a tiny prison. His body ached from sitting, a dull throb that started in his lower back and radiated upward. He’d promised himself he’d start exercising “next month” for the past eighteen months.

At 6:43 PM, he finally left, knowing he’d be late to Sarah’s parents. The sunset painted the sky in shades of pink and gold that he didn’t notice, too focused on crafting excuses.

Dinner was roast chicken, as dry as his conversation. Sarah’s father talked about his golf game. Her mother asked, again, about wedding plans. Sarah squeezed his hand under the table—a gesture that felt more like a plea than affection. Marcus smiled, nodded, played the part of the future son-in-law while something inside him screamed so loudly he was sure others must hear it.

That night, lying in bed beside Sarah, Marcus stared at the ceiling and finally let himself feel the truth that had been stalking him for years: He was forty-one years old, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt truly alive.

The cruellest part? Everyone thought he was doing well. Good job, nice girlfriend, stable life. He’d settled for a life that looked successful from the outside while his soul withered from malnourishment. He’d become an expert at slowly, systematically, socially-acceptably destroying himself.

It wasn’t until three months later—after a mild heart event that his doctor called “a warning shot”—that Marcus finally understood: Every “it’s fine” had been a tiny act of violence against his true self. Every “I should be grateful” had been another bar added to his invisible cage.

A Voice from the Trail

“I came to Dr. Montagu’s retreat thinking I must reduce my stress. What I discovered on those ancient paths of the Camino was that my entire life had become an exercise in settling—for the convenient relationship, the prestigious but soul-crushing job, the image of success rather than actual fulfilment. Walking those trails, surrounded by others who finally felt safe enough to be honest, I realised that my ‘stress’ was actually my soul screaming at me to stop accepting crumbs when I was meant for the feast. That week saved my life—not metaphorically, but literally.”
— Jennifer K., Technology Executive, London

Five Key Takeaways

1. Settling Is Not Humility—It’s Self-Abandonment

We’ve confused being grateful with accepting less than we deserve. True gratitude celebrates what we have while still honouring our growth. When we settle, we’re not being humble; we’re telling ourselves we’re not worthy of more. This isn’t virtuous—it’s a form of learned helplessness dressed up as maturity.

2. Your Body Keeps Score of Every Compromise

Research published in Psychosomatic Medicine (Kivimäki et al., 2018) demonstrates that chronic job strain increases cardiovascular disease risk by up to 40%. Every time you swallow your truth, your body records it. That tension headache, that troubled sleep, that mysterious back pain—these aren’t random. They’re your body’s way of saying, “This isn’t working.”

3. “Good Enough” Is the Enemy of Great

When we settle for “good enough,” we’re not just missing out on excellence—we’re actively training our brains to expect less. Neuroscientist Dr. Joe Dispenza’s research shows that our repeated thoughts and behaviours literally rewire our neural pathways. Every day you settle, you’re strengthening the neural highways of mediocrity.

4. Settling Is Contagious

When you settle, you unconsciously give others permission to do the same. Your children learn that dreams are meant to be compromised. Your colleagues see that passion is impractical. You become a walking advertisement for the half-lived life, spreading the virus of “realistic expectations.”

5. The Cost of Settling Compounds Over Time

Like interest on a debt, the cost of settling compounds. If you remain in an unsatisfying role, you develop decreased cognitive function and increased depression rates over time. The longer you settle, the harder it becomes to remember who you were before you started accepting less.

The Mirror Exercise: Meeting Your Unsettled Self

Here’s a powerful exercise I’ve used with hundreds of retreat participants. It takes just 10 minutes but can revolutionise your relationship with settling.

Step 1: Find a private space with a mirror. Set a timer for 5 minutes.

Step 2: Look directly into your own eyes and ask: “Where in my life am I settling?” Don’t look away. Let the answers come without judgment.

Step 3: For each area where you’re settling, ask: “What am I afraid would happen if I stopped settling here?”

Step 4: Now, maintaining eye contact, ask: “What would my life look like if I believed I deserved more?”

Step 5: Write down three specific actions you could take this week to stop settling in just one area.

The discomfort you feel during this exercise? That’s your authentic self trying to break free from the prison of “good enough.”

A Quote to Carry Forward

“If you don’t know what you want, you’ll never find it.
If you don’t know what you deserve, you’ll always settle for less.
You will wander aimlessly, uncomfortably numb in your comfort zone, wondering how life has ended up here. Life starts now, live, love, laugh and let your light shine!”
― Rob Liano

Further Reading

1. “The Body Keeps the Score” by Bessel van der Kolk

This groundbreaking work illuminates how our bodies store trauma, including the slow trauma of self-betrayal through settling. Van der Kolk’s research provides the scientific foundation for understanding why settling manifests as physical symptoms.

2. “Untamed” by Glennon Doyle

Doyle’s fierce memoir is a masterclass in recognising and dismantling the cages we build for ourselves. Her journey from “good enough” to gloriously alive serves as both an inspiration and an instruction manual.

3. “Man’s Search for Meaning” by Viktor Frankl

Frankl’s exploration of finding purpose even in the darkest circumstances reminds us that settling for meaninglessness is a choice—and we can always choose differently. His logotherapy principles directly address the existential vacuum that settling creates.

4. “The Gifts of Imperfection” by Brené Brown

Brown distinguishes between healthy acceptance and toxic settling, showing how perfectionism often drives us to settle for lives that look good rather than feel good. Her research on worthiness directly challenges the shame that keeps us settling.

5. “Breaking the Habit of Being Yourself” by Joe Dispenza

This book provides practical techniques for rewiring the neural patterns that keep us trapped in settling. Dispenza shows how we can literally think ourselves into new lives.

Frequently Asked Questions

Q: Isn’t there a difference between having realistic expectations and settling? A: Absolutely. Realistic expectations involve honest assessment of current circumstances while maintaining vision for growth. Settling involves abandoning growth altogether. The key question: Are you adapting your strategy or abandoning your dreams?

Q: What if I have responsibilities that make it impossible to stop settling? A: I’ve worked with single parents, caregivers, and people with significant financial obligations. Not settling doesn’t mean making reckless decisions. It means taking small, consistent steps toward alignment while honouring your responsibilities. Often, the first step is simply admitting to yourself that you’re settling.

Q: How do I know if I’m settling or just going through a difficult phase? A: Difficult phases have movement—even painful growth is still growth. Settling has stagnation. If you’ve been telling yourself “things will get better” for more than a year without taking any action to make them better, you’re likely settling.

Q: What if I try to stop settling and fail? A: “Failure” in pursuit of your authentic life provides more nourishment than “success” in a life that isn’t yours. Every attempt to stop settling, regardless of outcome, strengthens your self-respect muscle. As I tell my retreat guests: The Camino teaches us that every step forward counts, even the ones that initially seem to take us backwards.

Q: Can settling ever be a conscious, healthy choice? A: Conscious compromise based on values and priorities isn’t settling—it’s choosing. Settling happens when we unconsciously accept less out of fear, not when we consciously choose based on what matters most to us.

Conclusion

After twenty years in medicine and a decade guiding souls along ancient pilgrim paths, I’ve learned that the most dangerous diseases aren’t always the ones we can see under a microscope. The slow erosion of self that comes from settling—that daily choice to accept less than our souls know we deserve—is a quiet killer that no medical scan will detect.

But here’s the beautiful truth: The moment you recognise settling as self-abuse, you’ve already begun to heal. Your discomfort with this article, if you feel it, isn’t resistance—it’s recognition. It’s your authentic self saying, “Finally, someone said it out loud.”

You weren’t born to live a life of “fine.” You weren’t given consciousness, creativity, and the capacity for joy just to spend it all on “good enough.” Every spiritual tradition, every wisdom teaching, every transformative story throughout human history carries the same message: You are here for more than mere survival.

The path forward isn’t easy—authenticity never is. But I can promise you this: The discomfort of growth pales in comparison to the agony of remaining the same.

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If this article stirred something within you—that restless knowing that you’re meant for more—perhaps it’s time to stop walking in circles and start walking toward something. My “Rediscover Your Natural Rhythm” retreats along the Camino de Santiago in Southwest France offer stressed professionals a sacred pause to remember who they were before the world told them who to be. Over seven transformative days, walking ancient paths with fellow seekers, you’ll discover that the opposite of settling isn’t striving—it’s returning to your natural rhythm of authentic living. Learn more at here where over 40 testimonials from past participants share how a week on the Camino changed not just their stress levels, but their entire relationship with settling.

References

Kivimäki, M., Nyberg, S. T., Batty, G. D., Fransson, E. I., Heikkilä, K., Alfredsson, L., … & IPD- Work Consortium. (2012). Job strain as a risk factor for coronary heart disease: a collaborative meta-analysis of individual participant data. The Lancet, 380(9852), 1491-1497.