Stop Trying to Be ‘Good.’ Start Aiming for Well.
We all know that person who’s “nailing it.”
The one weighing every gram of food, logging every calorie, never missing a workout, and constantly striving to do better, be better, live better.
Maybe that person is you.
Maybe it used to be you.
Or maybe you’re just beginning to realise… you kind of wish it wasn’t.
There’s a version of “being good” that looks admirable from the outside — clean eating, dedicated training, measurable progress. But underneath it? There’s often anxiety, guilt, shame, and isolation.
That’s not health.
That’s not freedom.
It’s FUCKING EXHAUSTING.
Let’s talk about the trap of trying to be “good” — and why letting go of it might be the best thing you ever do for your body and your life.
When “Good” Becomes a Cage
It often starts innocently.
You want to clean things up. Dial things in. Do things right.
You start tracking. Planning. Measuring. Training harder. Avoiding meals out because “it’s just easier to control things at home.” You say no to cake at your niece’s birthday because “sugar is toxic” and you’re being good right now.
And if you “slip up”?
The shame hits. The guilt floods in. The punishment begins.
This can look like a strict reset — an even more rigid food plan, an extra workout, a promise to “start again Monday.” But inside, it feels like something else: fear.
Fear that you’re failing.
Fear that you’re weak.
Fear that if you don’t control everything, you’ll lose control of everything.
This is what happens when your identity gets wrapped up in being “good.” You stop seeing food and movement as tools for health and start seeing them as tests of character.
When the High Wears Off
Here’s the hard part: it often works for a while.
You feel like you’re in control. You’re dropping weight. You’re collecting compliments. There’s a buzz to being on top of things, to seeing progress, to “doing the right thing.”
Until… you hit a plateau.
Until a tough day at work leads to a food decision you regret.
Until an injury or illness derails your workouts.
Until the number on the scale doesn’t move for a week — or worse, goes up.
And just like that, the high crashes into despair. The same behaviours that once felt powerful now feel exhausting. And all that progress? It suddenly feels precarious, like one bad day will undo it all.
It’s not just burnout.
It’s a deep, painful sense of failure.
The Isolation Effect
One of the most insidious outcomes of trying to be “good” all the time is how it pulls you away from people.
You say no to spontaneous dinners.
You avoid travel because it’ll throw off your food prep.
You dodge questions about your training or eating habits because you feel like no one gets it.
You’re chasing health, but it’s making you lonelier.
And the truth is, that loneliness can do more damage to your physical and mental health than the food or activity you’re trying to control in the first place. Chronic social isolation has been shown to increase the risk of heart disease, stroke, depression, and even early death.
But it’s not just health markers we’re talking about.
You start missing moments. Not just the big ones — the birthday dinners, the weekend getaways — but the everyday intimacy of being in a shared experience. Sitting around the table with people you love. Laughing over a glass of wine. Going on a spontaneous late-night ice cream run with your kids. Saying yes to life in the moment instead of retreating into your rules.
And when your partner asks why you’re still tracking your calories during a weekend away, or your best friend looks hurt when you won’t taste the dessert they made for you, you feel it — the distance growing.
That’s what this perfection trap steals from you.
But the good news?
You can take it back.
You can start saying yes more often. You can loosen the reins without letting go of the things that matter. You can enjoy food — really enjoy it — and still nourish your body. You can move because it feels good, not because you’re punishing yourself. You can connect.
And connection, in every sense, is what real health is built on.
Red Flags You Might Be Stuck in the “Good” Trap
Not sure if you’ve slipped into the perfection loop? Here are some gentle signs to check in with:
You feel anxious or guilty when eating outside your plan
You avoid social events where food might be “off-limits”
You constantly think about your next meal, workout, or how to “make up for” a decision
You hide your food or training habits from others — or feel embarrassed explaining them
You punish yourself with exercise after a perceived slip-up
You feel proud when you’re “in control” but panicked when that control slips
You struggle to enjoy food or movement unless it’s exactly on-plan
You’ve stopped doing active things with friends or family because they don’t “fit” your routine
If these sound familiar, it doesn’t mean you’ve failed.
It means you’re human.
And it might mean it’s time to try a different approach.
A Client’s Story
One of my long-time clients spent most of her adult life in that trap.
Years of restrictive dieting. Obsessive food tracking. Avoiding social situations. Constant guilt. She knew the calorie content of everything, but hadn’t truly enjoyed a meal in years.
After months of working together, she shared something I’ll never forget:
“I just want you to know that this is the first time in my life where my food anxiety is at a 2 or 3 out of 10, and the relief I feel is incredible. I am so grateful for how I am feeling today.”
That’s the win.
Not a six-pack. Not a perfect food log.
Relief. Ease. Peace. Freedom.
That’s health.
The Turning Point
If you’re nodding along, maybe this is your turning point. The place where you start to question whether being “good” is actually helping — or just hurting less efficiently than whatever came before.
Here’s what I want you to know:
You are not alone. This struggle is more common than you think.
It is not your fault. The fitness and diet industries profit from this cycle.
You can still care about your health and let go of perfection.
Let’s talk about what that looks like.
The Shift: From “Good” to Well
Letting go of “being good” doesn’t mean swinging the pendulum to indulgence or apathy. It means stepping into a space of integrated care — where food, movement, joy, connection, and rest all have a place.
That starts with a few mindset shifts:
1. Food is not morality
There are no good or bad foods — only choices with different effects. Nourishing your body is important. So is sharing a slice of birthday cake with your kid without spiralling into guilt.
2. Movement should feel like living, not punishment
If your training keeps you from hiking with friends or dancing at a wedding because you’re sore, injured, or anxious about missing a session — that’s not fitness. That’s fear dressed up as discipline.
3. Progress isn’t linear, and it’s not always visible
Sometimes progress is weight lost.
Sometimes it’s fewer binges.
Sometimes it’s being able to go out to brunch without needing to “earn” it or “make up” for it later.
Sometimes it’s sleeping better because your nervous system isn’t in a constant state of panic about your food log.
The Role of Connection
Here’s the reframe: if your nutrition or training approach is damaging your relationships, it’s damaging your health.
Yes, your health matters. But your connection to others — your family, friends, community — that’s what makes life worth being healthy for in the first place.
Social connection improves immune function, emotional regulation, and even lifespan. It buffers stress, supports motivation, and helps you bounce back from hard days. A flexible approach to food and movement allows you to fully show up in these moments, rather than sit them out in the name of control.
What It Actually Looks Like
Let me tell you about a client I worked with — a woman in her late 30s, thriving professionally in a high-stress role, but carrying the weight of a long, complicated relationship with her body.
Her pattern was all too familiar: periods of extreme restriction followed by episodes of bingeing. She was either laser-focused — skipping social events, weighing every gram, keeping everything “clean” — or completely off the rails, spiralling in guilt and shame after “messing up.” There was no in-between. No grey area. No freedom.
The idea of letting go — even a little — was terrifying.
At one point, after eating an apple, she texted me in distress.
“No, JP, not just a piece of apple — a whole apple.”
The guilt was real. The fear was real. In her mind, this one piece of fruit had the power to undo everything.
So we started small.
We paused the detailed food tracking and shifted to a single focus: eating enough protein. Not measured on a food scale, not calculated down to the gram — just palm-sized portions, a few times per day. That was it.
We leaned into the natural satiety and thermic effect of protein. We trusted that when protein became the anchor of each meal, the rest would begin to fall into place. And it did.
The scale didn’t spike. Her clothes still fit.
The world didn’t end.
In fact, she felt better.
Little by little, the fear loosened its grip.
She started enjoying food again — really tasting it. Cooking for pleasure, not punishment. Sharing meals instead of hiding from them. And all of a sudden, the anxiety that used to run the show started taking a backseat.
Once her relationship with food calmed down — once she could eat a full meal without guilt or panic — we began reintroducing other small adjustments to support her goals. But this time, without the dread. Without the crash.
Her body responded. Her energy improved.
And most importantly?
She wasn’t at war with herself anymore.
That’s what this process looks like.
Not a switch flipping.
A series of tiny, brave shifts — each one proving that progress is possible without punishment, and freedom doesn’t mean failure.
A Final Thought
Self-love is not self-indulgence.
Balance is not mediocrity.
And letting go of perfection is not the same as giving up.
You can want to grow, evolve, improve — and still choose flexibility over fixation.
Health that costs your peace, your joy, your relationships, or your identity isn’t health. It’s control.
You don’t need to be “good.”
You need to be well.