Never Enough

How can we raise children who thrive without crushing them under the pressure to succeed? In Never Enough, journalist Jennifer Breheny Wallace argues that modern achievement culture—one that equates success with worth—is quietly eroding our children’s mental health, balance, and joy. Drawing on extensive interviews, research in psychology and neuroscience, and firsthand stories from families across America, Wallace contends that we’ve built an environment in which being “enough” is always conditional—based on grades, trophies, or reputation—rather than intrinsic self-worth.

The book’s central argument rests on the concept of mattering: the feeling that we are valued and that we add value to society. Mattering, Wallace explains, is the antidote to performance-based identity and the key to protecting youth from anxiety, depression, and burnout. She frames this idea against an unsettling paradox—children from privileged, high-achieving schools are now identified by researchers as an “at-risk” group, suffering rates of mental illness comparable to those in poverty or violence-plagued environments.

The Achievement Pressure Trap

Wallace depicts a nation obsessed with performance. From affluent suburbs to elite prep schools, students endure relentless expectations to excel academically, athletically, and socially. Parents, shaped by status anxiety and fears of scarcity, unwittingly become agents of this pressure—engineering résumés in childhood, optimizing every moment, and viewing success as the ultimate proof of good parenting. The book’s opening story, of a high school athlete named Molly who studies until midnight and literally runs laps with her eyes closed, encapsulates this phenomenon of “children running with their eyes shut.” They pursue excellence without purpose, rest, or reflection.

A Crisis Hidden in Plain Sight

Wallace’s investigation began after the U.S. Surgeon General reported that one in three American high school students and half of female students feel persistently sad or hopeless. What startled her most was research revealing that adolescents in high-performing schools are now classified as “at-risk,” facing elevated levels of anxiety, depression, and substance abuse. These children aren’t struggling because they are poor or disenfranchised—they are suffering because they feel they only matter when they achieve. Their communities equate success with safety, creating what psychologists Suniya Luthar and Madeline Levine have called the “gilded pressure cooker.”

Why the Adults Are Anxious Too

Parents feel trapped by hypercompetitive norms. Wallace’s national parenting survey revealed that 83% believe their child’s success reflects their own parenting and 80% agree that children in their communities are under “excessive pressure to achieve.” They fear falling behind socially or professionally if they don’t keep pace. These emotions—status safeguarding and scarcity fear—stem from societal shifts: widening income inequality, declining upward mobility, and uncertainty about the future. Parents equate achievement with security, inadvertently transmitting their anxiety to their children. In Wallace’s interviews, even loving parents admitted that their affections sometimes felt conditional—that their warmth spiked when their kids excelled and cooled when they stumbled.

The Power of Mattering

The turning point of Wallace’s argument emerges in her introduction to mattering, a term coined by sociologist Morris Rosenberg and expanded by psychologist Gordon Flett. Mattering means believing that you are noticed, valued, and depended on; it is the psychological core of belonging and purpose. Children who know they matter—who feel appreciated for their character, not just their performance—are more resilient and compassionate. Wallace identifies students and families who thrive despite pressures: they emphasize connection over competition, treat rest and relationships as sacred, and model self-worth independent of results.

A Blueprint for Change

Each subsequent chapter expands this framework. Wallace unpacks parental anxiety (“Name It to Tame It”), explores how to untangle self-worth from achievement (“The Power of Mattering”), urges caregivers to prioritize their own emotional health (“You First”), and describes how communities and schools can “take the kettle off the heat.” She also examines envy and hyper-competition, showing how relationships built on mattering—not rivalry—protect against isolation. Later chapters move from individual transformation to social impact, illustrating how fostering mattering can ripple outward—to homes, classrooms, and entire towns.

Ultimately, Wallace’s message is both urgent and hopeful. We live in a culture that insists achievement equals value, but you—and your child—are worthy simply by being. When we build environments where children know they matter, we don’t lower standards; we create the conditions for genuine excellence and enduring mental health. The book provides not just diagnosis but direction—a call to slow down, reconnect, and redefine success as something that sustains rather than destroys.

Wallace delves into why parents, even the most well-intentioned, fuel toxic achievement norms. In the chapter “Name It to Tame It,” she explores the psychology of status anxiety—why adults in affluent communities feel compelled to orchestrate their children’s success as though the family’s survival depends on it. Drawing on evolutionary instincts and contemporary economics, she shows that the drive for social prestige and fear of scarcity turn ordinary parenting into high-stakes project management.

The Archetype of Status Safeguarding

Parents today perform exhaustive “status safeguarding,” says sociologist Melissa Milkie (University of Toronto). This means managing every detail—tutors, activities, social skills—to ensure their child doesn’t slip down the social ladder. Wallace compares this to an evolutionary smoke detector system: our brains still respond to “status descent” as though it’s physical danger. When a child is rejected from a selective team or school, the parent's cortisol spikes like a threat alarm. The Varsity Blues scandal—wealthy parents bribing their children’s way into elite colleges—was simply this instinct in its extreme form. Most parents, Wallace argues, do not break laws, but they bend time and sanity trying to compensate for perceived risks that don’t actually endanger their children’s future.

Scarcity and Inequality

Economic dynamics fuel this anxiety. Economists Matthias Doepke and Fabrizio Zilibotti (authors of Love, Money, and Parenting) found that as inequality rises, parents spend dramatically more time and resources “engineering advantage.” Wallace explains that in the 1970s, middle-income families could rely on steady upward mobility; now, millennials and Gen Z face stagnation, with only half likely to earn more than their parents. In unequal environments, even comfortable parents fear decline. This scarcity mindset explains why after decades of hands-off parenting, today’s middle- and upper-middle-class mothers and fathers hover anxiously over homework and sports schedules, transforming childhood into a résumé workshop.

The Emotional Labor of Fear

Wallace highlights how caregiving becomes a full-time identity under pressure. Mothers, she notes, bear the brunt: sociologist Sharon Hays calls it “intensive motherhood,” a socially rewarded but exhausting model of self-sacrifice. These women give up personal time, careers, friendships, even basic self-care, in the belief that perfect nurturing ensures successful offspring. One mother confides: “I’ve trained myself not to have needs anymore.” The cost is burnout, resentment, and emotional absence—the very conditions that make children feel they don’t matter. Wallace reminds readers that parental depletion isn’t noble sacrifice; it’s a form of disconnection that harms everyone in the family.

Restoring Perspective

To counter this anxiety, Wallace borrows from psychiatrist Edward Hallowell’s advice: “Never worry alone.” She advocates rebuilding adult support networks, particularly friendships. Research by psychologist Suniya Luthar shows that college-educated mothers under chronic stress improve markedly after joining “Authentic Connections” groups—weekly circles where participants share vulnerabilities and receive empathy. Wallace calls these friendships “oxygen masks” for caregivers. When parents themselves feel they matter, they can model emotional stability and resilience for their children.

Ultimately, Wallace reframes status anxiety not as individual neurosis but collective illusion. The true measure of a parent’s success isn’t how high your child climbs—it’s how deeply they believe they are loved regardless of outcome. By “naming” our fears of scarcity, performance, and comparison, we can “tame” them—and shift from raising products of prestige to nurturing people who matter.

The heart of Wallace’s book beats in her exploration of “mattering”—the psychological antidote to performance-based identity. She asks: what if success began not with striving but with belonging? Drawing on decades of research by Morris Rosenberg, Gordon Flett, and Gregory Elliott, Wallace explains mattering through two dimensions: being valued (feeling seen, cared about, and appreciated) and adding value (contributing meaningfully to others). When these two forces align, children develop resilience, confidence, and purpose that no trophy can match.

Why Mattering Heals

Studies show that adolescents who feel they matter to their parents report lower depression and higher self-esteem. Wallace calls this feeling “a release valve for the pressure cooker.” Kids who know they matter do not interpret setbacks as proof of failure—they see them as part of growth. Conversely, when love feels conditional (“We’re proud when you get As”), children often internalize shame and develop what psychologists call a false self—a mask worn to earn approval. This false self leads to loneliness and even suicidality, as seen in the heartbreaking story of Beth, a perfectionist lawyer who realized her career was her parents’ dream, not hers.

How Parents Communicate Mattering

Wallace warns that unconditional love must be felt, not just professed. Words are less powerful than tone and timing. Small gestures—eye contact, physical affection, laughter—communicate safety. Silence after failure can hurt more than criticism, because teens interpret it as withdrawal. The way you respond to bad grades or disappointments teaches your child whether your love depends on achievement. Wallace cites therapist Robin Stern’s story of lunchbox notes labeled “Personal excellence”—meant as encouragement but received as pressure. Learning to express warmth without agenda is a skill, not instinct.

Good Warmth vs. Bad Warmth

Psychologist Madeline Levine distinguishes “good warmth”—love that accepts imperfection—from “bad warmth”—praise given only when expectations are met. Good warmth fosters mattering; bad warmth reinforces fear. Wallace’s example of Leigh and her son Jake shows how reframing parenting works. After nightly battles over grades, Leigh’s therapist told her to track the emotional tone of their days. She discovered most conversations were transactional. By prioritizing positive, agenda-free interactions—cooking, walking, playful affection—their relationship shifted, Jake’s mood improved, and his grades rose. Emotional repair preceded academic success.

Becoming a “Strengths Spotter”

Instead of searching for deficiencies, Wallace urges parents to identify and celebrate natural strengths. Using Martin Seligman’s “VIA Character Strengths Survey,” families can map traits like curiosity, zest, or compassion. One mother in Maine calls this getting a “PhD in your kids.” She writes annual “strength letters,” reflecting who her child is rather than what they achieve—a ritual her daughter treasures as proof of being truly seen.

Wallace’s conclusion is simple yet radical: what grows the next generation is not more achievement but more affirmation. Children thrive when they feel noticed, needed, and known. Mattering doesn’t excuse them from excellence—it defines what excellence should serve: a life rich in relationships, grounded in self-worth, and powered by contribution.

Before you can make your children feel that they matter, Wallace insists, you must believe that you matter. In “You First,” she tells vivid stories of parents who burn out while trying to create perfect childhoods—particularly mothers in affluent towns who sacrifice everything for their children’s accomplishments. These acts of devotion, though noble, often send a dangerous message: love means self-erasure. Children absorb this and learn that worth requires endless giving or performing.

The Cost of Intensive Parenting

Wallace’s portrait of Genevieve from Wilton, Connecticut, exemplifies the trap. Determined to give her children an idyllic life, Genevieve micromanaged activities, excelled at volunteering, and made herself indispensable—until her talented daughter became suicidal under academic pressure. Therapy revealed that Genevieve’s self-neglect and perfectionism mirrored the perfectionism she had cultivated in her daughter. Like many parents Wallace profiles, she had confused service with worth. Sociologist Suniya Luthar identifies this pattern—“intensive parenting”—as perilous for both generations, producing exhaustion in parents and anxiety in teens.

The Friendship Solution

To self-correct, Wallace draws on Luthar’s research about resilience. Instead of bath bombs and yoga, what stressed caregivers need is authentic connection. Weekly support groups for mothers, known as “Authentic Connections,” provenly reduce cortisol and loneliness through structured empathy—not advice, but presence. Wallace urges parents to create a “go-to committee” of trusted friends: one or two people you can call when struggling. This isn’t indulgence; it’s maintenance of emotional oxygen. “If you won’t do it for yourself,” Luthar told Wallace, “do it for your kids.”

Revillaging Modern Life

Modern families have become isolated tribes—moving for jobs, losing extended networks. Wallace describes community builders like Genevieve and her ally Vanessa, who formed the Wilton Youth Council after their daughters’ mental health crises. They rejected secrecy and perfection, organizing talks on stress, vaping, and suicide, creating spaces where parents could admit struggle. Through such honesty, their town began to heal. Wallace calls this “revillaging”—restoring collective caregiving in an age of individualism.

Redefining Self-Care as Shared Care

For Wallace, putting yourself first isn’t selfish—it’s structural. Children mirror the emotional tone of their homes. When parents are depleted, distracted, or perpetually anxious, they model that worth depends on endurance. When they rest, laugh, and reach out, they show mattering in action. One mother’s weekly dinners with friends left her happier and more relaxed; her children noticed the change immediately. Another learned to delegate and re-engage passion projects. These small acts restore psychological presence—the deepest gift any parent can offer.

Wallace’s takeaway: love cannot thrive in isolation. Self-care is community care. To make your children’s lives matter, you must first fill your own.

In “Taking the Kettle off the Heat,” Wallace moves from family life to cultural overhaul. She portrays communities like Mercer Island, Washington, as symbols of grind culture—affluent enclaves where achievement is both status and identity. Students like Andrew, whose parents forbid him from doubling up on AP science courses, are exceptions in a system that rewards overwork and exhaustion. Wallace’s message: true parental courage today means protecting children from the culture’s heat, not fueling it.

The Myth of the Good Life

Wallace dismantles the myth that elite credentials guarantee happiness. Drawing on Harvard, Stanford, and Gallup studies, she reveals that mental health crises persist even among Ivy League students. What predicts well-being isn’t prestige but engagement—the quality of relationships and purposeful learning. Graduates who had professors who cared about them, worked on meaningful projects, or joined internships reported double the levels of career satisfaction. The true “good life,” Wallace argues, arises from mattering, not ranking.

Materialism and the Mirage of Merit

Psychologist Tim Kasser’s research shows that prioritizing wealth and status correlates with anxiety and depression. Affluent families pursuing endless upgrades—cars, homes, schools—exchange connection for consumption. One mother confessing envy over her neighbor’s renovations captures how competitive materialism erodes joy. Wallace urges parents to model intrinsic values: curiosity, kindness, balance. Ask candidly: “What does our lifestyle teach our children about what matters?” These self-audits reveal contradictions between spoken ideals and lived choices.

The Courage to Redefine Success

Wallace profiles Elizabeth and Scott from New Jersey, both offered major promotions that promised higher salaries but less time with family. After reflection in therapy, they realized success for them meant balance. They declined the promotions and restructured their lives around friendship, exercise, and volunteering—modeling integrity over ambition for their sons. Their decision echoes Lisa Damour’s equation: “The difference between getting a 91 and a 99 is a life.”

By the chapter’s close, Wallace reframes achievement as energy management. Excellence is sustainable only when paired with deliberate rest, play, and purpose. Protecting time for sleep or family dinners is not weakness—it’s strategic resilience. The families who dared to “take the kettle off the heat,” she finds, raised confident, healthy achievers who excelled precisely because their self-worth was no longer under fire.

One of Wallace’s most nuanced explorations appears in “Envy,” a chapter that turns rivalry from poison into power. At Los Angeles’s Archer School for Girls, journalism teacher Kristin Taylor fosters a culture where ambition coexists with joy. Her students—Vaughan, Chloe, and Thea—learn that collaboration, vulnerability, and mutual appreciation can flourish even in elite environments. Wallace uses their story as proof that competition doesn’t need to divide; it can, properly channeled, unite.

Making the Thinking Visible

In Taylor’s classroom, students practice “making the thinking visible”—naming hidden emotions like envy or impostor fear. Instead of pretending confidence, they openly discuss perfectionism and rivalry for leadership roles. Weekly “share the love” circles invite each girl to affirm another’s efforts: a reminder that every writer and editor contributes to the collective success of their newspaper. These rituals cultivate benign envy—a form of motivation that lifts everyone—instead of malicious envy that cuts others down. The girls eventually compete for editor-in-chief positions without destroying their friendship, each cheering the other’s success.

From Hypercompetitiveness to Healthy Drive

Wallace contrasts Archer with toxic schools where competition breeds sabotage—students spreading rumors or hiding notes to sink peers. Psychologists Tamara Humphrey and Tracy Vaillancourt call this “hypercompetitive style,” linked to aggression and depression. In contrast, Archer models “adaptive competitiveness,” where girls view peers as collaborators, not enemies. Vaughan’s revelation—“her success is my success”—embodies Wallace’s thesis: when mattering replaces status, rivalry transforms into mutual inspiration.

Teaching Reliance and Reciprocity

Healthy competition rests on interdependence. Wallace cites pediatrician Kenneth Ginsburg’s idea that adolescents should learn not only independence (“doing it alone”) but interdependence (“asking for and giving help”). When parents and teachers normalize vulnerability—showing their own red-marked drafts or discussing failures—they model courage. Wallace herself shares showing her daughter an edited article covered in corrections as proof that help means investment, not humiliation.

By teaching children to root for peers and celebrate collective wins, we protect them from isolation and envy. Competition, Wallace concludes, isn’t the enemy of character—it’s the test of community. When connectedness trumps comparison, ambition becomes creative collaboration instead of conquest.

If mattering begins with feeling valued, Wallace shows that it matures through adding value—contributing to others and seeing the impact. “Greater Expectations” chronicles teens like Adam, a dyslexic student turned search-and-rescue volunteer, who discovers that serving others invigorates his life far more than grades ever did. His story becomes the template for how purpose protects against despair.

From Self-Focus to Contribution

In affluent neighborhoods, Wallace notes, children grow up curated for success but detached from meaning. They volunteer for résumés, not empathy. Psychologist William Damon (Stanford) warns that “the biggest problem growing up today is not stress—it’s meaninglessness.” Adam’s journey reverses that narrative. After witnessing a tragic suicide during a rescue mission, he joins a teen crisis hotline, then founds a mental-health peer group at his school. Through service, he discovers competence, connection, and hope—the essence of mattering.

The Hidden Power of Chores and Service

Small acts of usefulness, Wallace shows, also build mattering. Citing Marty Rossmann’s decades-long studies, she finds that preschoolers who did household chores were more successful, independent, and happy 20 years later. Helping the family, she argues, isn’t busywork—it’s belonging. Mothers like Marjie Longshore teach their kids to “choose how to contribute today,” turning chores into shared purpose rather than nagging. This mindset, combined with community volunteering, tells kids: you’re needed here.

Teaching Moral Purpose in Schools

Schools can nurture this outward focus as well. Wallace visits Saint Ignatius High School in Cleveland, where students learn daily reflection and mandatory service. Coach Mike McLaughlin’s classes remind boys that “there are people who need you.” Service isn’t charity—it’s relationship. When students feed the homeless or tutor peers, they witness their own significance mirrored back.

Wallace’s synthesis of Damon’s and Kasser’s research leads to one transformative truth: helping others doesn’t just build character—it fuels joy. Purpose offers immunity against burnout, perfectionism, and fear. When children recognize that their talents exist to serve, not impress, they become stable, empathetic adults who matter in the world and to themselves.

Wallace ends her book with a sweeping vision: mattering isn’t just personal, it’s contagious. In “The Ripple Effect,” she describes how making others feel valued ignites abundance across families, schools, and communities. After her own 50th birthday, when friends and children toasted her with messages of why she mattered, Wallace realized mattering creates emotional momentum—once expressed, it multiplies.

From Scarcity to Abundance

By choosing to affirm others, you shift from scarcity (“I must outdo”) to abundance (“we both belong”). Wallace references the Sanskrit term mudita—unselfish joy in another’s success. This mindset transforms envy into empathy. Whether congratulating a colleague or celebrating a friend’s milestone, expressing why people matter deepens connection. One teen learns this lesson as drum major of her band, memorizing every member’s name so no one feels invisible—a simple act that reshaped her school culture.

Building Networks of Care

Wallace urges families to construct “councils of trusted adults” around children—teachers, neighbors, coaches—so kids have multiple sources of affirmation. Research shows adolescents surrounded by caring adults engage in fewer risky behaviors, precisely because they don’t want to disappoint those who value them. In Palo Alto, mothers even create “councils of moms,” giving teens a list of emergency contacts willing to help anytime, no questions asked. These webs of caring expand mattering across generations.

Mattering in Schools and Communities

Schools play a crucial role. Wallace recounts students like Darya at UPenn, whose newspaper advisor’s unconditional support inspired her to join Teach For America to give others the same gift. Teacher appreciation, she insists, must go beyond gifts—write notes, express gratitude, partner with educators as allies. When parents and schools collaborate instead of compete, children feel held within a consistent circle of care. Communities like Wilton, Maine, and Connecticut have even launched “mattering initiatives,” reminding citizens through block parties and campaigns: everyone belongs.

Wallace closes with a challenge to the reader: walk around “unlocking magic.” Tell people why they matter, from the barista to your child’s coach. Every acknowledgment is a ripple—one that can transform individual well-being into communal strength. Mattering, she teaches, is not sentimental theory; it’s a practice of abundance that heals the pressure to be “enough.”