
Self-Objectification and Drive: What the Research Actually Says About Founders
Self-objectification is a researched pattern in which a person treats their own body and needs as an instrument for output rather than as a person to be sustained. For driven founders, this isn’t just intense dedication; it’s a specific psychological mechanism with measurable costs. This guide translates the research on instrumentalization and self-objectification into plain language, and shows what it actually takes to lead without treating yourself as equipment.
- The Fourth Espresso and the Missed Appointment
- What Self-Objectification Actually Is
- The Research on Treating Yourself as an Instrument
- How This Shows Up in Founder Culture
- The Language That Makes It Sound Like Virtue
- Where the Pattern Starts
- Both/And: Excellence and a Body You Still Live In
- The Systemic Lens: A Funding Culture That Rewards It
- How to Heal: Re-Inhabiting Your Own Body
- Frequently Asked Questions
The Fourth Espresso and the Missed Appointment
It’s 7:14 p.m. on a Tuesday, and you’re staring at your calendar with a throbbing pain behind your left eye. You haven’t had a glass of water since 9 a.m. You’re about to skip your doctor’s appointment for the third time this quarter, and the reason you give yourself is practical, almost bored: there’s no good week to be away from the desk.
If your nervous system learned the safest way to exist was to manage everyone else's world, my self-paced course Enough Without the Effort is the recovery map.
You don’t feel sad about this. You don’t feel angry either. What you feel is a flat, low-grade irritation that your body requires maintenance at all, the same tone you’d use about a printer that keeps jamming.
If you’re reading this, you probably recognize that tone. It’s the sensation of looking at your own physical form not as a living organism but as a piece of equipment that’s inconveniently prone to breaking down. In my sessions with driven women, I hear versions of this constantly, dressed up as discipline, grit, or “doing what it takes.” But when you manage yourself with a level of disregard you’d never direct at an employee, you’re not being disciplined. You’re doing something the research has a name for: self-objectification.
What Self-Objectification Actually Is
Self-objectification isn’t a metaphor. It’s a documented psychological process, most thoroughly studied by Barbara Fredrickson, PhD, and Tom Roberts, PhD, social psychologists who developed objectification theory to explain how a person can come to view their own body from the outside, as an object to be evaluated and used, rather than as the seat of their own subjective experience.
The internalized habit of viewing and treating one’s own body and internal states as an object to be monitored, evaluated, and used, rather than as the lived, first-person seat of one’s own experience (Fredrickson & Roberts, 1997).
In plain terms: you’ve stopped experiencing your body as you and started managing it as an it. You check it the way you’d check a piece of hardware, not the way you’d check in on a person you loved.
Most of the original research on self-objectification focused on appearance: women learning to see their bodies as objects to be looked at and judged. But the underlying mechanism, treating your own inner states as irrelevant to the extent they don’t serve a visible output, generalizes far beyond appearance. In workplace settings, researchers describe this generalized version as instrumentalization, the perception of oneself or others as tools for production rather than as full persons.
It’s worth being precise about what makes this distinct from other founder-psychology content on this site. Elsewhere, this site’s coverage of imposter syndrome as a trauma response addresses a founder’s relationship to her own competence, the fear of being exposed as insufficiently skilled. This piece is asking a related but separate question: not whether a founder believes she is good enough, but whether she has stopped experiencing herself as a person at all, in favor of experiencing herself as a piece of operating equipment. Imposter syndrome is a crisis of perceived worth. Self-objectification is a crisis of perceived personhood. A founder can resolve one without touching the other, which is part of why this specific angle deserves its own separate treatment rather than being folded into the broader imposter-syndrome conversation.
“I have everything and nothing. I have a husband who loves me, a house in the country, work I enjoy, but there is a deadness inside me that I can’t seem to shake.”
Marion Woodman analysand, quoted in Marion Woodman’s clinical writing on addiction to perfection
The Research on Treating Yourself as an Instrument
Research by Laurent Auzoult, a social psychologist studying workplace objectification, found that when employees experience themselves as instruments rather than as persons at work, they measure the effect along three separate tracks: instrumentality (I exist to produce), loss of humanness (my inner life doesn’t matter here), and dementalization (I stop attributing rich mental states to myself). The study found meaning at work can partially buffer the humanness loss, but instrumentality often persists regardless.
Perceiving oneself, or being treated, as a means to an end, a tool with a function, rather than as a person with independent needs, feelings, and worth (Auzoult, 2020).
In plain terms: you’re not asking “what do I need,” you’re asking “what am I for.” Those are very different questions, and only one of them treats you like a person.
The clinical consequences are not abstract. A 2023 study on workplace objectification found a direct pathway from being treated, or treating yourself, as an object through to self-harm, mediated by depressive mood. Separately, research on organizational dehumanization found that when employees are dehumanized by supervision, the felt loss of humanness predicts burnout and a measurable drop in the capacity to help others, even when the person remains highly functional on the surface.
None of that research was designed with founders in mind. But the mechanism travels intact. When your own internal monitoring system starts treating your fatigue, your grief, your hunger, and your fear as noise to be filtered out rather than data to be used, you are running the exact process these studies describe, just with a cap table instead of a supervisor as the instrumentalizing force.
How This Shows Up in Founder Culture
For many driven women, self-objectification doesn’t start in the boardroom. It starts in a family system where worth was contingent on output, and it gets amplified the moment a company enters the picture, because a company will absorb every ounce of self-neglect you’re willing to feed it and call it commitment.
Elena, 45, a biotech founder, came to me eight months after a stress cardiomyopathy diagnosis, sometimes called broken heart syndrome. During intake, she described a routine of four hours of sleep, skipped lunches, and back-to-back board prep. “I just need tools to manage the stress so I can get back to it,” she said, flatly, the way you’d describe a scheduling conflict. She wasn’t asking to be helped. She was asking to be serviced, like the equipment she’d unconsciously decided she was. It took several sessions before she could say out loud that she’d just survived a cardiac event, not a bad quarter.
Elena’s story is not unusual among the founders I see. What made it distinct was how long it took her to notice her own alarm bells. She had built a company that made cardiac-monitoring wearables for other people’s hearts. She had a dashboard that would flag anomalies in a stranger’s resting heart rate within seconds. She had no equivalent dashboard for herself, because she had never built one, and because some part of her did not believe she was worth the engineering effort.
This is what recent research on self-dehumanization in high-demand professions describes as a downstream cost of chronic instrumentalization: professionals in relentlessly output-driven fields report treating their own exhaustion, grief, and physical warning signs as inconveniences rather than as information, and the researchers found this pattern was linked to worse mental health outcomes even among people who were, by every external measure, still performing well.
The version of this in startup culture usually sounds like language you’ve heard applauded. Sleeping under your desk. Working through your own medical symptoms because the raise closes Friday. Bragging about how little rest you need. Research on entrepreneurial burnout among founders found that founders who felt highly indebted to their own social and investor networks were more likely to override their own limits to keep meeting external expectations, precisely the self-instrumentalizing loop this article is describing.
The reduced attribution of rich mental states, thoughts, feelings, intentions, to oneself or others, a core mechanism inside the broader process of objectification (Auzoult, 2020).
In plain terms: you stop noticing you have feelings about what’s happening to you. Not because the feelings aren’t there, but because you’ve trained yourself not to register them as relevant.
The Language That Makes It Sound Like Virtue
Part of what makes self-objectification so difficult to interrupt in founder culture is that the culture has built an entire vocabulary to make it sound admirable. “Grind.” “Hustle.” “No days off.” “Sleep is for the competition.” These phrases function as a kind of camouflage. They translate an instrumental relationship to your own body into a personality trait, one that gets rewarded with funding, press, and admiration, rather than named as a pattern with a documented psychological cost.
This matters clinically because language shapes what we’re able to notice. If the only available words for “I am overriding my body’s signals” are words that sound like strength, you lose the linguistic tools to register the pattern as a problem at all. You can be in genuine physiological distress and still describe your own week as “a great sprint,” because sprint is the only word your professional vocabulary has offered you.
Part of the clinical work, then, is building a second vocabulary, one that can sit alongside the founder-culture language without needing to replace it entirely. You can still call it a sprint in the board deck. In your own body, in your own private accounting, you also need a phrase like I have been running on emergency reserves for six weeks, because that phrase, unlike “sprint,” actually tells you something you can act on.
Where the Pattern Starts
Self-objectification in founders is rarely invented in a Series A. Most of my clients trace it to an earlier environment where being useful was the price of belonging, and where their emotional and physical needs were treated as inconvenient interruptions to someone else’s agenda.
The clinical layer here is dissociative. When your body’s signals, hunger, fatigue, pain, sadness, are consistently overridden because they interfere with achievement, your brain adapts by simply not registering them as urgently. You learn to live from the neck up. On a Tuesday afternoon, this looks like a fourth espresso to override a stress migraine, with no felt connection to the physical cost you’re accumulating.
This is why the body’s warning signals during company-building so often go unheard until they escalate into something undeniable: an autoimmune flare, a cardiac event, a panic attack that seems to arrive out of nowhere. The body was never actually silent. You had simply stopped being the kind of listener who could hear it.
The perceived stripping away of the qualities that make a person feel fully human, warmth, depth, individuality, moral standing, so that the self or other is experienced primarily in mechanical or functional terms (Auzoult, 2020).
In plain terms: it’s the difference between saying “I’m tired” and saying “the system needs downtime.” One statement comes from a person. The other comes from a machine describing its own maintenance schedule, and if that second sentence sounds more familiar to you, that’s worth sitting with.
For many of the founders I work with, this loss of felt humanness extends into their closest relationships. Partners describe feeling like they’re talking to a highly capable operations system rather than a spouse. Children describe a parent who is present in the room but not available in any way that registers as connection. This isn’t a character flaw. It’s the natural extension of a nervous system that has been trained, for years, to treat its own inner life as irrelevant to the task at hand. If you can’t feel your own hunger, it becomes very difficult to feel someone else’s need for your attention either.
Both/And: Excellence and a Body You Still Live In
Here’s the thing: you do not have to choose between being an extraordinary founder and being a person who is still, in fact, a body. This is the Both/And. You can hold yourself to exceptional standards of execution AND you can treat your own exhaustion as real information rather than noise. You can be a visionary operator AND you can take the nap.
The fear, usually unspoken, is that softening the instrumental relationship to your own body will cost you your edge, that acknowledging your humanity is the first domino in some larger collapse. In my clinical experience, the founders who build durable companies, the kind that outlast a single funding cycle, are consistently the ones who eventually learn to lead from an inhabited body rather than a managed one. Instrumentalizing yourself produces speed. It does not produce endurance.
The Systemic Lens: A Funding Culture That Rewards It
We have to look at this through a systemic lens, because self-objectification in founders is not simply a personal failure of boundaries. The venture world is structurally organized to reward exactly this pattern. It funds the founder who works the 80-hour week and calls it conviction. It writes the profile piece about the CEO who “never stops.” It treats the visible willingness to instrumentalize your own body as evidence of seriousness about the business.
Research on organizational dehumanization found that when abusive or extractive supervisory dynamics are present, employees who are dehumanized by the system often go on to dehumanize themselves, extending the same instrumental logic inward. Founders sit at an unusual junction in this loop: there’s frequently no supervisor instrumentalizing them directly, but the incentive structure of venture funding, milestone-based, growth-at-all-costs, plays the same functional role. If you feel a quiet, exhausted resentment toward your own body for needing rest, that reaction did not originate in a character flaw. It is the predictable output of operating inside a system that prices your output far above your sustainability.
How to Heal: Re-Inhabiting Your Own Body
Healing from self-objectification is the practice of re-inhabiting your body as yourself, rather than managing it as equipment you happen to operate.
- Run a management audit. Look honestly at how you treat yourself. If an employee showed up sick, exhausted, and overwhelmed, would you demand they skip lunch and work the weekend? If the answer is no, you’ve identified where the double standard lives.
- Practice somatic tracking, on a timer. Set an alarm three times a day. When it sounds, pause for sixty seconds and ask: what’s happening in my body right now? Am I thirsty? Is my jaw clenched? Am I breathing shallowly? Don’t try to fix it immediately. Just notice it, the way you’d notice a colleague’s expression.
- Redefine maintenance as infrastructure, not downtime. Sleep, food, and emotional contact are not breaks from the real work. They are the load-bearing structure the work depends on. Practical somatic tools can help you rebuild the habit of listening to your body’s signals before they become emergencies.
- Separate the drive from the disregard. Healthy ambition and self-objectification often look identical from the outside. The difference is whether recovery is built into the plan or treated as a failure of will. If you routinely need structured burnout recovery support, that’s data, not a character indictment.
Kira, 38, a fintech founder, used to describe her ability to run on four hours of sleep as a competitive advantage. After a diagnosis of adrenal exhaustion, we began the slow work of somatic reconnection. It took months before she could locate where anxiety actually lived in her body. “I’ve been treating myself like a rental car,” she told me one session. “Just driving it into the ground, assuming I could trade it in later. This is the only one I get.”
What shifted for Kira wasn’t a single insight. It was repetition. Every time she caught herself narrating her own exhaustion as a logistics problem, “I just need to push through until the board meeting”, she practiced naming it instead as a body signal: I am depleted, and depletion is information, not weakness. That reframe took her the better part of a year to install as a reflex rather than an intellectual exercise, because reflexes formed over decades don’t update on a single good session.
You've been holding everything together. You're allowed to put some down.
A focused self-paced course on overfunctioning, achievement-first self-concept, and the trauma response that masquerades as a personality. Not a productivity problem. Not a boundary problem. A nervous system that learned competence was the only safety.
In My Clinical Experience: The Inevitable Breakdown
In my sessions with driven founders, I see that self-objectification has an expiration date. The body keeps the score, and eventually the instrument stops complying quietly. It shows up as autoimmune flares, chronic pain, treatment-resistant depression, or panic attacks that seem to come from nowhere but never actually do.
And here’s the absolution, if you need it: if you’re reading this and recognizing that you’ve been managing yourself like a piece of equipment, it is not your fault. You adopted this strategy because it worked. It got you through a difficult childhood. It got you through the fundraising gauntlet. It got your company funded. You did what the environment required to survive it. But the strategy that got you here is not the strategy that will let you stay, and you are allowed to put it down.
This is also not an argument for abandoning ambition. Nothing about naming this pattern requires you to want less, build less, or care less about the outcome. What it requires is separating the wanting from the self-erasure that got braided into it somewhere along the way. Those two things can be pulled apart, and driven women who do the work of separating them consistently report the same finding: the ambition survives intact. What falls away is the quiet, constant war against their own body that used to accompany it.
What I See in My Clinical Work
In my practice, I’ve worked closely with founders, executives, and driven women who’ve achieved extraordinary external success while privately running on a deficit that no revenue number could fix. What I see consistently is a gap between the polish of the external story and the depletion of the internal one, a gap that widens the longer self-objectification goes unnamed.
What tends to repair this pattern is rarely insight alone. It’s structured, embodied work that rebuilds the connection between a person and their own signals. Fixing the Foundations™ was built to help driven women dismantle these patterns systematically, so they can lead, and live, without leaving their bodies behind in the process.
The Neurobiology of Relational Trauma: Why the Pattern Persists
To understand why self-objectification is so hard to talk yourself out of, it helps to understand where it’s actually stored. It isn’t stored in the cognitive, thinking parts of the brain, which is why insight alone rarely resolves it. It’s stored in the limbic system and the body.
When conditional worth, emotional neglect, or early overfunctioning teaches your nervous system that safety depends on output, the amygdala, your brain’s threat-detection center, becomes primed to treat rest itself as risk. The prefrontal cortex, responsible for reflective, values-based decision-making, goes quieter under that kind of chronic activation. This is how a founder can be brilliant in a board meeting and still feel unable to cancel a single call to see a doctor: the threat response, not a reasoned cost-benefit analysis, is driving the decision.
Why Rest Feels Riskier Than Burnout
One pattern I see again and again in this population: founders can tolerate extraordinary levels of stress, missed sleep, skipped meals, unrelenting cognitive load, without their nervous system registering alarm. But offer that same founder an uneventful Saturday with nothing scheduled, and something like panic sets in. This isn’t a contradiction. It’s the logical output of a system that has learned, at a deep and largely unconscious level, that stillness is when the old fear shows up. Stress is familiar terrain. Rest is where the unprocessed material has room to surface.
The Window of Tolerance
In trauma-informed work, we talk about the window of tolerance, the zone where your nervous system is regulated enough to think clearly, connect with other people, and register your own needs accurately. Founders who’ve built their identity around self-objectification often have an unusually narrow window of tolerance for rest and an unusually wide one for sustained stress. You’ve trained your body to run in sympathetic activation for years, sometimes decades, and it will not simply reset because your company hit a milestone.
Rebuilding that window is not about willpower. It’s about consistent, embodied practice, paired with real support. Somatic therapy resources and modalities like EMDR give the nervous system a different, felt experience of safety that doesn’t depend on continuous output, which is precisely what self-objectification never allowed it to have.
This work often intersects with grief that has nothing to do with the company itself, especially for founders navigating the specific isolation of building alone or the childhood overfunctioning that quietly shaped their founder identity long before the first term sheet.
There’s also a practical, day-to-day layer to this rebuilding that doesn’t require a therapy office. Founders who make real progress on self-objectification tend to build small, non-negotiable structures into their calendar, the equivalent of a body-check meeting they would never cancel for a colleague. A ten-minute walk between calls. A hard stop for dinner three nights a week. A standing appointment with a doctor that gets treated with the same seriousness as a board meeting. None of these changes are dramatic on their own. What makes them work is that they are treated as fixed points, not optional ones, which is precisely the opposite of how a founder used to instrumentalizing herself would normally schedule her own care.
It also helps to have language ready for the moments when old patterns resurface, because they will. A founder who has done real work on this pattern still catches herself, mid-crisis, reaching for the old script: skip the meal, push through the symptom, apologize later to her own body. The difference, after real work, isn’t that the impulse disappears. It’s that she notices it faster, and has a next move that doesn’t require waiting for a full collapse to intervene.
How This Pattern Differs Across Founding Roles
Self-objectification doesn’t show up identically in every founder. A solo founder without co-founders often has no one physically present to notice the pattern escalating, which means the body’s warning signs have to get considerably louder before anyone intervenes, including the founder herself. A founder with a co-founding team sometimes has the opposite problem: peers who are running the exact same instrumentalizing script, which means the pattern gets normalized rather than interrupted, since everyone around the table is treating their own body with the same casual disregard.
Founders who inherited a company through a family business or took over an existing operation report a distinct variation: the instrumentalizing pressure often predates them, embedded in a culture built by someone else, which can make the pattern feel like an immovable inheritance rather than a personal habit that can actually be renegotiated. And founders scaling a company past the first hundred employees frequently describe a new layer entirely, a felt obligation to model tirelessness for a team that is watching, which adds a second audience to the internal instrumentalization, one built from genuine care for the people who work for her rather than from the original family conditioning alone.
Regardless of which variation is active, the underlying mechanism is the same: an internal monitoring system that has been trained to treat the body’s signals as noise. What changes is the specific social architecture reinforcing it, and naming that architecture accurately, rather than assuming the pattern is identical for every founder, is often the first step toward interrupting it in a way that actually fits your specific situation rather than a generic prescription.
There is also a financial dimension worth naming honestly, without wading into prescriptive advice: founders who are pre-revenue or pre-seed often describe an intensified version of this pattern, because the instrumentalizing logic gets reinforced by genuine scarcity rather than only by internalized conditioning. When the runway is measured in weeks, treating your own rest as a luxury can feel, in the moment, like a rational triage decision rather than a psychological pattern. Distinguishing between the two, real financial constraint and old conditioning wearing the costume of financial constraint, is delicate clinical work, and it usually requires an outside perspective to do accurately, since a founder deep inside the pattern rarely has the distance to tell them apart on her own.
The Instrument and the Person: A Closing Distinction
There’s a useful distinction that can anchor this work: an instrument has a function. A person has a life. Founders are trained, by every incentive around them, to conflate the two, to believe that their worth as a person and their function as a business asset are the same measurement. They are not.
Dani, 50, sold her logistics company after eleven years of what she called “living inside a to-do list.” Two years later, in session, she described the first time she noticed she was hungry before she was starving. “It sounds so small,” she said. “But I actually felt it. I didn’t override it. I just got up and made a sandwich, like a person would.” That’s not a minor victory. That’s the entire project: becoming, again, a person who notices, rather than an instrument that produces.
If any part of this article described your Tuesday, you are not broken, and you are not alone in this. Trauma-informed therapy and executive coaching built for driven women both exist specifically for this work, learning to lead from a body you actually live in, instead of one you merely operate.
Warmly, Annie
Q: Is self-objectification a formal diagnosis?
A: No. It’s not a DSM diagnosis, and this article isn’t naming a syndrome. It’s a well-studied psychological mechanism, first described in the context of appearance-based objectification and since extended to workplace and self-directed instrumentalization. It commonly overlaps with dissociation, perfectionism, and workaholism, but it is a pattern, not a disorder.
Q: Why do I feel guilty when I actually rest?
A: Because you’ve likely internalized a narrative, familial, cultural, or both, that ties your worth directly to your output. Rest can register to your nervous system as a threat to your value, not just a pause in your schedule.
Q: How can I stay this driven without treating myself like a machine?
A: Drive and self-objectification are not the same thing, even though they can look identical from the outside. Healthy drive includes intense effort followed by genuine recovery. Self-objectification is relentless extraction without recovery, which degrades cognitive function and physical health over time, ultimately making you less effective, not more.
Q: My investors expect 80-hour weeks. What am I supposed to do with that?
A: That expectation is a real, systemic pressure, and you likely can’t single-handedly change it. What you can change is your own internal boundary about what you’re willing to sacrifice biologically to meet someone else’s metric. That’s a decision, not a fixed constraint.
Q: How do I even start feeling my body again after years of overriding it?
A: Start small and specific. Notice the temperature of water on your hands. Notice your feet against the floor. Somatic therapy and EMDR are both effective, well-supported clinical tools for safely reconnecting with a body you’ve learned to tune out.
Q: Does this pattern affect men too, or is it specific to women founders?
A: The underlying mechanism isn’t gender-specific; the research spans workplaces broadly. What tends to be specific to driven women is the layering of self-objectification on top of earlier conditioning to be useful, accommodating, and low-maintenance, which can make the pattern harder to name and harder to interrupt.
Q: What’s the actual difference between instrumentalization and dementalization?
A: Instrumentalization is treating yourself as existing for a function. Dementalization is the narrower process of no longer attributing rich feelings, thoughts, or intentions to yourself. They usually travel together: once you’re purely a function, it becomes easier to stop registering that you have an inner life at all.
Related Reading
Fredrickson, Barbara L., and Tom-Andre Roberts. “Objectification Theory: Toward Understanding Women’s Lived Experiences and Mental Health Risks.” Psychology of Women Quarterly 21, no. 2 (1997). https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1111/j.1471-6402.1997.tb00108.x
Auzoult, Laurent. “Can Meaning at Work Guard Against the Consequences of Objectification?” Social Science Information (2020). https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/0033294119826891
“Workplace Objectification Leads to Self-Harm: The Mediating Effect of Depressive Moods.” Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin (2023). https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/01461672231213898
“Dehumanized Yet Agentic? When and How Organizational Dehumanization Mediates the Effects of Abusive Supervision on Burnout and Interpersonal Helping Behavior.” Journal of Occupational Health Psychology (2025). https://doi.apa.org/doi/10.1037/ocp0000419
“Self-Dehumanization Is Related to Worse Mental Health in Veterinarians.” Healthcare 14, no. 1 (2025). https://www.mdpi.com/2227-9032/14/1/92
“When Connection Backfires: How Social Connection, Self-Efficacy, and Indebtedness Shape Entrepreneurial Burnout Among Chinese Entrepreneurs.” Acta Psychologica (2026). https://linkinghub.elsevier.com/retrieve/pii/S0001691826007225
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Annie Wright is an EMDR-certified licensed psychotherapist and relational trauma specialist with over 15,000 clinical hours, and she's been in practice since 2013. Trained in EMDR, psychodynamic, and somatic modalities, she is licensed in 15 U.S. jurisdictions (California, Colorado (telehealth only), Connecticut, the District of Columbia, Florida, Illinois, Maine, Maryland, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New York, Texas, Utah, Virginia, and Washington). Annie works with driven and ambitious women from relational trauma backgrounds, and everything she writes about is field-tested across thousands of clinical sessions. She is the founder and former CEO of Evergreen Counseling, a multimillion-dollar trauma-informed therapy center she built, scaled, and successfully exited, and is currently writing her first book, The Everything Years: Navigating the Pressure and Promise of Your Thirties, with W.W. Norton (2027). A regular contributor to Psychology Today, her expert commentary has appeared in USA Today, Forbes, Business Insider, Inc., NBC, and The Information.
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