When Working Harder Stops Working

A therapist’s reflection on grief, survival, and the slow turn toward self-compassion

For much of my life, I did what I had been shaped to do. I worked hard.

I grew up in a home where effort was valued and persistence was rewarded. My parents worked hard and showed up in the ways they knew how, even when things were difficult. What was less available was emotional attunement. There was little help with naming feelings, making sense of them, or learning how to stay with pain without becoming overwhelmed.

So when life became unimaginably painful after the tragic deaths of my son and my mother, I relied on the strategy that had always helped me survive. I worked harder.

That strategy wasn’t wrong. It was the way my system protected me.

In the early days of my grief, the feelings were so overwhelming that I didn’t believe I could survive. The loss was traumatic, and in many ways, my son’s death overshadowed my mother’s. I loved my son deeply, yet the deepest places of my grief began to feel unreachable, as if they were walled off and distant. I wasn’t avoiding grief; my nervous system simply did not yet have the capacity to hold all the nuance of what I had lost.

Over time, I came to understand this through my own experience. I now see the same pattern often in people with a history of complex trauma or insecure attachment. Emotional disconnection is not a flaw. It’s a survival strategy. For many, fully processing the deeper layers of grief simply isn’t yet an option.When attuned presence, safety, or support were inconsistent or absent early on, the nervous system adapts by relying more on thinking and control rather than feeling. 

And for a time, that seems to work.

Until it doesn’t.

When effort reaches its limit

Even after years of meaningful therapy, I sensed that something essential was still inaccessible, particularly some layers of grief connected to my son. I could talk about my loss, but I knew I was cut off from some deeper emotional layers.

I had spent years learning about self-compassion and believed deeply in its value. And yet, my inner world still carried a harsh edge, and it was difficult to quiet my inner critic.

You are not your defenses

Many people come to believe they are their coping strategies—their drive, their competence, their ability to push through. These traits are often praised, but they are usually adaptations shaped by early necessity, not conscious choice.

Lifespan Integration helps separate who you are from what once protected you. As integration unfolds, emotional range expands, self-compassion grows, anxiety softens, and vulnerability becomes safer.

The role of Lifespan Integration

Things began to shift as I engaged deeply in Lifespan Integration during my certification training. Completing all of the protocols with an experienced practitioner allowed me to experience the work from the inside out.

Lifespan Integration (LI) is a somatic, bottom-up approach that works quietly beneath conscious awareness. It gently helps the nervous system recognize that past experiences are over. In time, this reduces the need for defenses that were once necessary for survival.

As I moved through this work, I noticed many meaningful changes. My system softened. My reactivity decreased. Shame loosened its grip.

As space opened up, the emotions I had long sensed but could not reach began to flow.

It’s been a long road, and I’m deeply grateful for the growing access I now have to the nuanced depths of my grief and my heart.

A different way forward

If working harder has stopped working and you feel emotionally distant or disconnected, you may simply be ready for a different kind of support.

If you are curious whether Lifespan Integration Therapy might help you, reach out for a free 20-minute consultation to explore whether we would be a good fit.

With care and compassion,
Jacquelyn

Written By Jacquelyn Baker
Space for Grief — Renton, WA
In-person & online therapy across Washington