The Empty Block That Broke Me: Finding Identity Beyond Performance

As a driven leader in the military, I’ve always prided myself on achieving milestones, one after another. Promotions, assignments, academic pursuits—I chased them with precision and focus. But one counseling session changed everything. It was the first time I was confronted with a hard truth, not about my performance but my purpose. I walked into my quarterly counseling session confident. I led my team through several complex operations, mentored junior soldiers, spearheaded cross-functional initiatives, and briefed senior leaders. I expected another strong review and a few “keep it up” comments. However, as I scanned the DA Form 4856 before me, something unexpected hit me: the “Key Achievements” block was blank.

My mind immediately went into overdrive. Had I messed something up? Did I overlook a task? Was my performance slipping? For the next thirty minutes, I only half-listened to my supervisor. That blank space consumed my thoughts. I’d always defined my value by what I accomplished—why else would that block be empty? In my twelve-year career, I had never once seen that box left blank—not for me. I was always the top performer, the go-to leader, the one others leaned on. That counseling form felt like a slap in the face. In a very real sense, I was shook—broke even. My identity was entangled with recognition, validation, and measurable success. And in that moment, I felt like it had all vanished.

Finally, my supervisor paused, looked me in the eye, and said, “I left the achievements block blank on purpose. You’ve done so much, and I couldn’t list it all here. But I noticed how keyed in you were on that empty space the entire time. Jeff, you are a high achiever. I’m confident you’ll make CW5, finish your doctorate, achieve your goal of working at the Office of the Director of National Intelligence (ODNI), and excel at whatever endeavor you choose. But here’s the issue—you’re chasing success. And that, unchecked, is a recipe for disaster.” Then he said something I’ll never forget: “We often ignore high performers because they look good on the outside. But what’s going on inside? What’s next for you—not in rank or résumé, but in who you are? I want you to find your purpose. Not your next win.”

That hit harder than any professional critique I’d ever received. And what made it more profound was how eerily similar it was to something my counselor had recently told me. I had been attending counseling quietly for a while, working through the weight of expectations, impostor syndrome, and years of compartmentalizing emotions. My counselor looked at me in one session and said, “You’ve built an identity around performance. But who are you when you’re not achieving?”

She followed that by asking a question that pierced through my defenses: “What expectations are you putting on yourself that are beyond being human?” I didn’t have an answer. Then, as if she knew exactly how I needed to hear it, she offered a quote that has stayed with me since: “Be content, not complacent. Be present, and less anxious.” That moment changed something in me. Her question forced me to confront the unrealistic standards I had internalized—the belief that I had to be everything to everyone, all the time. It made me accept my humanity and realize that I am, in fact, imperfectly perfect. I don’t have to earn my worth through achievement. I don’t have to hide behind resilience. I can be a leader and still be human. That realization didn’t feel like weakness—it felt like freedom.

At that moment, sitting in front of my supervisor, I had nothing to say. For the rest of the session, I was quiet. Not because I was processing strategy or mentally rehearsing my rebuttal but because I was on the verge of breaking down. That blank achievements block wasn’t a mistake—it was a mirror. A mirror reflecting how I had built my self-worth around being needed, productive, and praised. That was the first time I felt like someone truly saw me, not just the professional, the problem solver, or the strong one. Me. And it hurt. It hurt because I didn’t have an answer to the one question I’d never thought to ask myself: Who am I… really?

That moment forced me to dig deeper into emotional intelligence, not just as a leadership buzzword but as a personal life skill. I had read the theory of self-awareness, self-regulation, empathy, motivation, and social skills. But now I was living it. I learned, and continue to learn, that emotional intelligence is not just about managing others—it starts with understanding yourself. My supervisor and counselor held up a mirror and invited me to look beyond the accolades. They helped me realize that relentless drive without internal alignment leads to burnout, not breakthrough.

For high achievers like me, it's easy to hide behind productivity. We get things done. We’re reliable. We check the boxes. But that mask can be suffocating when no one stops to ask, “How are you—really?” And when they do, we often don’t know how to answer. That’s where the power of candid leadership comes in. Tough conversations, when grounded in trust and respect, can become transformational. My supervisor didn’t scold me or pile on tasks—he saw past the uniform, past the image, and spoke to the human behind it.

Through continued counseling, I’ve been working to unpack that conversation. I’ve started to rediscover who I am beyond the Army, beyond academia, and my professional accomplishments. I still have big goals, but I’m learning to lead from a place of purpose, not pressure. I now ask myself regularly: Am I pursuing this because it aligns with who I am, or am I doing so because I need to prove something? That pause has saved me more than once from overcommitting, burnout, and betraying my peace.

I offer to those reading this who are also high performers: slow down. Reflect. Check in with yourself the way you check in with your team. Success without purpose is hollow. Don’t wait until the achievements block is left empty to realize your worth isn’t defined by what you do—it’s determined by who you are. And if you’re a leader, remember this: the most impactful conversations won’t always be about metrics. Sometimes, the most meaningful thing you can do is ask someone, “Beyond professional achievements, 'who are you,' 'what's next,' and 'why'?”

Jeff B. Newsome is an active-duty Army Military Intelligence Warrant Officer. Jeff was appointed a Warrant Officer in August of 2019. He graduated from American Military University (AMU) with a master’s degree in Intelligence Operations, concentrating in Homeland Security, in December 2022. He is pursuing a Doctorate in Strategic Intelligence (DSI) at AMU. In his previous assignment, he served as a Brigade Fusion Chief for S2, HHC, 2nd SBCT at Fort Carson, CO. He is currently the Cyber Intel Section Chief for RCC-E, NETCOM, ARCYBER at Fort Huachuca, AZ. He can be contacted at jeff.b.newsome757@gmail.com or 757-256-2436 (Cell). The views of the author are his own and do not necessarily reflect the views of any organization he works for or is affiliated with.