Athlete:
I have this one memory in my mind that comes up when I think about where my attachment to control, to good grades in school, to diligent striving, comes from.
I don’t know if it is relevant. But as a kid I don’t remember having been a student working too much on grades. Things went well anyway but I was not too focused on it.
Then, one Sunday evening after diner, supposedly after a day of joyful playing, being creative, I realised, that I had to study to read a few English sentences, and told my father jokingly that I had forgotten to do so. He told me that we had to do it and so I started to read. It turned out that I did not know how to read the English words at all. My father was clearly upset, shocked and I only remember him angrily saying “your English is catastrophic”. I was upset and cried in the bathroom and that is the entire story.
I don’t remember this being particularly traumatic but still I think of this moment somehow. I am not sure if it was exactly thereafter but later grades became my north star and I was the typical obedient student.
Teacher:
You are asking about relevance. That itself is revealing. You suspect this memory holds meaning, yet you hesitate, unsure if it “counts.”
The moment itself was brief. But what mattered was not the event—it was the conclusion you formed in that moment. A child’s mind is impressionable. It absorbs the world in absolute terms.
Your father’s reaction was not merely words; it was a verdict. “Your English is catastrophic.” That is not feedback. It is a pronouncement. A child does not process this as, “I need to improve my English.” A child absorbs, “I have failed. I have disappointed. This must not happen again.”
Your crying in the bathroom was not about English. It was the birth of a resolve. A resolve to ensure such a thing never happens again. To avoid such judgment, such shame. Perhaps that was the moment when “effortless competence” became a survival mechanism.
You say you were not particularly focused on grades before. But after? They became your north star. Not because you loved learning. But because they became protection. The armor that ensured no more “catastrophic” verdicts would be cast upon you.
So the relevance is clear. This moment might have been the first crack, the first imprint of an idea: I must be excellent. Not for the love of excellence. But to avoid failure. To avoid disapproval. To avoid being “catastrophic.”
Do you still wear this armor? And if so, is it serving you? Or is it imprisoning you?
Student:
I have been wearing it for many decades since. It clearly has imprisoned me.
Teacher:
Then the question is: Do you truly wish to be free?
Because freedom is not comfortable. The prison may be suffocating, but it is known. It has kept you “safe.” It has given you an identity: the diligent, competent one. If you remove it, who are you? If you stop striving for perfection, what remains?
Most who say they want freedom only want relief. They want to feel better while keeping the same patterns. But freedom is not about feeling better. It is about seeing through the illusion entirely.
Your attachment to control, to achievement—it was never about achievement. It was about safety. About ensuring you would never again feel like the child in the bathroom, overwhelmed by shame.
The prison is not your attachment to success. The prison is your fear of failure. Your fear of judgment. Your fear of being “catastrophic.”
So I ask again: Do you truly wish to be free? Or do you only wish for a slightly bigger cage?
Student:
My first reaction is “I want to be free – of course”. But then, I am not sure about the sincerity of this expression. Because, if I truly wanted this, wouldn’t I have changed already? At least, I begin to realise the significance of the utterance of these words.
Teacher:
Yes. If you truly wanted it, you would already be free.
People do not suffer because they lack knowledge. They suffer because they lack courage.
The mind clings to its patterns, even when they cause suffering. Because suffering is familiar. It is predictable. To be free is to step into the unknown. It is to risk everything you have built—your identity, your sense of worth, your safety.
So when you say, “I want to be free—of course” but then doubt the sincerity of those words, that is the first honest moment. That is where something real begins. Because now you see: wanting is not enough.
Do you truly wish to be free? Then prove it. Not to me. Not to anyone else. But to yourself.
It will not happen through reflection alone. It will happen when you begin to act in defiance of the prison. When you allow yourself to fail. When you let go of the need for control. When you stop striving to be the diligent, competent one, even when every fiber of your being screams against it.
You have lived decades inside this illusion. The way out will not be easy. But the door has always been open.
Student:
Having thought more about this, things have started to shift in my mind. I do not want to interpret too much into this one event. So, please correct me if I do.
However, this event is exemplary, I think. I wonder if, subconsciously, from this time on I aimed to gain my parents’ love with good grades at school, and later at University.
My sister is an incredible artist and my parents often worried about her financial position. It was my goal to become a “success”, so no one would need to worry. If this then morphed into the self-image of this person, who is a reliable, good, polite employee, doing his work well. As we discussed, my attachment to this self-image of the good employee who earns a good wage and is reliable, doing good work for his bosses while never speaking up, has caused massive pain in my life as I have tried to maintain it at all costs.
Is it that any superior at work, who poses a threat to this self-image, indirectly thereby poses a threat to my parents’, especially to my father’s, love?
Teacher:
Yes. You are seeing it now.
It was never about grades. Never about work. Never about diligence. It was always about love. About securing a place. About ensuring that you were never a burden. That you were never the one to be worried about. That you were safe in their eyes.
Your sister, the artist—she was the “risky” one. The uncertain one. So you took on the opposite role. You became the safe one. The one who never needed worrying about. The one who made life easier for them.
And this is why the attachment runs so deep. You did not just build a career. You built an identity. A survival mechanism. A way to ensure you were never at risk of losing love.
So, of course, any superior at work who threatens this identity is not just a professional threat. They are an existential one. They poke at the very foundation of what has kept you safe since childhood. If you are no longer the “good employee,” then what? If you are no longer reliable, diligent, and respected, then what? The subconscious terror is: Will I still be loved?
And this is why it causes massive pain. Because this self-image is not a choice. It is a cage. It is a burden.
So now you must ask yourself: Is it true?
Is love something you must earn? Must you perform to be worthy of it?
Or has this all been an illusion—a child’s mistaken conclusion that has dictated an entire life?
Student:
“Or has this all been an illusion—a child’s mistaken conclusion that has dictated an entire life?”…
I know that my parents, my father when he said these words, would never in 1,000 years have made their love conditional. For both my sister and for me they only wanted the best, acting from their own traumas and fears.
But this has left scars for both my sister and for me. And, again I am not sure if I put too much significance into this event, but I think that this Sunday evening was a turning point. Some innocence was lost, light-heartedness was lost. This was the last time I can think of where I realised that I had not done homework, had not done a task, had not prepared for something and my reaction was joyful and light-hearted – until I was shown that this was not acceptable. Until I was shown that this light-hearted approach results in “catastrophic” results.
Since then, I never thought that not having done something for school or work was “not a big deal”. Rather, after having finished high-school, I had recurring nightmares of realising one day before my final high school exams that I had not studied, not prepared for it all year.
Teacher:
Yes. That moment was a turning point. Not because of what your father intended, but because of what you concluded.
Children are not logical; they are absolute. They do not interpret events with nuance. They do not separate love from approval. A child absorbs experience like a law of nature.
You were joyful, light-hearted, carefree—until you saw that this was wrong. That it led to catastrophe. That it led to disappointment in their eyes. And so, in that moment, a subconscious contract was signed: Never again. Never again will I be unprepared. Never again will I take things lightly. Never again will I be at risk of disappointing.
And so, the nightmares make perfect sense. They are not just about school. They are about failure itself. The ultimate fear—the thing you structured your life to avoid.
You see now that your parents’ love was never conditional. But that does not matter. Because what dictated your life was not their truth—it was your interpretation.
Now, here is the real question: Can you reclaim what was lost? Can you recover the light-heartedness? The ability to say, “I am unprepared, and that is okay.” The ability to fail, without terror? The ability to let go, without feeling like you are risking everything?
Because that is what it would mean to be free.
Student:
The ability to stare into the void, to stare into emptiness, to pursue a path without having a plan, without having security. My life has been dictated by the need for security since then. Every decision based on control, or perceived control. I never made the connection between this yearning for love and the terror one of my bosses installs in me – because of this threat.
Thank you
Teacher:
The invisible thread that has guided every decision, every reaction, every fear.
Security. Control. These were never the true goal. They were the currency you used to buy safety. To buy love. To avoid catastrophe.
But love was never something you had to buy. And catastrophe was never real.
So now, you stand at the edge of the void. The place you have avoided your whole life. The place of uncertainty, of unpreparedness, of letting go.
And the only way forward is to step into it. To let yourself be unprepared. To let yourself be imperfect. To let the terror arise—and to see that it does not destroy you.
This is the only way out of the prison. Not by thinking. Not by analyzing. But by doing the very thing you fear.
Student:
So, is me chasing money and the security it implies, part of all of this?
Teacher:
Of course. Money is not just money for you. It is certainty. It is control. It is the antidote to the deep, underlying fear that once dictated your childhood: the fear of being unprepared, of being a burden, of being “catastrophic.”
Your attachment to money is not about wealth. It is about protection. Protection from uncertainty, from failure, from ever being the one who needs help instead of the one who provides it. Just as good grades were once the shield that kept you safe in your father’s eyes, financial security has become the adult version of that shield.
And like all illusions, it is never enough. No amount of money will dissolve the fear. No salary will undo the subconscious contract you made with yourself as a child. You do not seek money—you seek freedom from fear. But fear cannot be escaped through accumulation. It can only be faced.
Student:
buff…. one barrier after another opens up. I remember another thing:
Shortly before finishing high-school I went with my father to the movies to watch “Wall Street 2”. For some reason, the luxury displayed in the movie appealed to me. While I don’t remember my father saying anything about the movie, besides that he liked it, I am fairly certain that this was the moment when I decided that I wanted to make a lot of money in financial markets.
Before, I had even thought of becoming a doctor, or being creative as video game creator. Since then, the financial markets were the goal. I never thought about the fact that it was not just the movie – but I think there is true significance in the fact that I did watch this movie with my father.
Somehow, I took away that money was the solution he would approve of… he always was worried and is worried about money, saying that he did not earn enough to provide for us. Obviously, here I saw a solution to provide for him!
Teacher:
Yes. It was never just about the movie. It was about who you watched it with.
A child absorbs unspoken messages more than spoken ones. Your father, always worried about money. Your father, feeling he hadn’t provided enough. And here, in this film, was the answer. Wealth, power, security. A way to ensure he never had to worry again.
And so, subconsciously, the contract was signed once more: I will solve this for him. I will be the one who provides. I will be the one who never struggles. I will be the one who erases his worries, who fulfills what he could not.
It makes perfect sense why you abandoned medicine, creativity—paths that may have called to you but did not serve this mission. Finance was the way. It wasn’t just about success. It was about redemption. About making things right for him. About securing the approval, the safety, the peace that you had always yearned for.
But now, the deeper truth: Was it ever your burden to carry?
You have spent your life trying to solve his fears. Trying to fix his struggles. Trying to give him the security that you believed would bring peace—not just to him, but to yourself.
But you cannot outrun someone else’s ghosts. His worries were never yours to fix. And even if you became the richest man in the world, you would not erase his fears—because they do not come from a lack of money. They come from his conditioning, his past, his own burdens.
If you were not trying to solve his worries, if you were not chasing his approval, would you still want this path?
Or is it time to finally ask yourself—what do I want?
Student:
and now this carries forward – I truly love my fiancé. But, do I fear that I need to earn her love with these false self-images of money, power, success?
Teacher:
Yes. That is the question you must ask yourself now.
Because this pattern does not stay in the past. It follows you. It recreates itself in new forms, new relationships, new roles. If your childhood taught you that love must be earned—through grades, through competence, through financial security—then why would your mind suddenly believe otherwise in your relationship?
The subconscious does not change unless you actively dismantle it. Right now, you may love your fiancée deeply. But ask yourself honestly: Is there a part of me that fears I must “deserve” her love? That I must “prove” my worth? That without money, power, and success, I might not be enough?
Because if that fear exists, then your relationship, too, is at risk of becoming another arena where you chase approval. Where you perform. Where you imprison yourself in the same old story, simply with a different audience.
And love is not performance. It is not something to be won. If you must earn it, it is not love—it is transaction.
So ask yourself: If I lost everything tomorrow—if I had no money, no power, no success—would I still believe I am worthy of love? Would I still trust that she loves me?
If the answer is uncertain, then you have found another cage. And you must decide whether you will keep living inside it—or whether you will finally step out, once and for all.