Recently, I encountered this philosophical description of how feelings of inferiority can be transformed into value. The phrase stayed with me. From a behavior science perspective, it immediately evoked concepts from Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) and Relational Frame Theory (RFT)—how language, private events, and relational networks shape who we believe ourselves to be.

But this wasn’t just academic for me. It was personal.

I’ve faced systemic barriers throughout my career and pursued my PhD in search of something better—more impact, autonomy, and freedom. Shortly after landing a role I had worked hard for, my region was downsized. It happened quickly, and it shook me. I found myself questioning my worth, replaying contingencies in my head, and wondering if I had failed as a compassionate leader.

In ACT terms, I was fused with a narrative: “If this happened, it must mean I wasn’t enough.”

For much of my life, I quietly resisted being seen as “nice.” As a child, I associated softness with weakness. Through my history, kindness became relationally framed with vulnerability and risk, while influence, education, and authority were framed with safety and survival. So I guarded myself. I shaped my public behavior toward competence, control, and distance—while privately suppressing relational warmth.

The setback disrupted that network.

In the aftermath, I turned toward holistic health—mind and body—and sought support. Through that process, I began to notice a different pattern. My supervisees and colleagues consistently described valuing my kindness, humor, and relational presence. The very behaviors I had historically framed as liabilities were functioning as powerful reinforcers in my professional relationships.

From an RFT perspective, the relational networks began to shift. Kindness was no longer coordinated with weakness—it was coordinated with trust, safety, leadership, and impact. My private verbal behavior changed, and with it, my behavioral repertoire expanded.

Learning to observe those thoughts—rather than be governed by them—was one of the most profound ACT processes I’ve engaged in. Defusion allowed me to see the story as a story. Self-as-context helped me notice that I was more than any single narrative about competence or failure. Values work clarified something essential: relational connection was not a distraction from effectiveness—it was central to it.

For me, this has been one of the most meaningful behavioral changes I’ve ever made. Not a new intervention protocol, not a new leadership strategy—but a transformation in how I relate to my own private events.

I’m still on that journey. And I want to continue it—not only for myself, but to better support others navigating self-doubt, burnout, and identity shifts in our field.

If you’re in a season of setback or questioning your worth, consider this: the traits you learned to hide may be the very functions that make you effective, impactful, and deeply human. Sometimes growth isn’t about acquiring new skills—it’s about re-framing the ones you already have.