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Article Summary:

For a long time, I found myself drawn to high-performing men who lived on the edge — heliskiing, shark diving, chasing the next thrill. At first, their intensity felt magnetic, but over time, I began to understand the psychology behind it: when someone is addicted to the chase, they often don’t know how to stay.

Many high achievers, whether in business or extreme sports, are chasing more than adrenaline — they’re often seeking relief from something deeper: unresolved trauma, restlessness, or existential grief. Their drive isn't just about ambition; it’s often rooted in a fear of stillness, where unprocessed emotions live.

What I learned is that we don’t attract what we want — we attract what we are. In understanding them, I began to understand myself: my own pattern of chasing emotional intensity, seeking aliveness in relationships that mirrored my wounds. Healing meant no longer confusing chaos for connection, or intensity for intimacy.

The real transformation? Realizing I no longer wanted to be someone’s next adventure — I wanted to be their safe landing.

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If liking high performing men who heliskiied, shark dived, rode motorcycles, and lived for extreme sports was a thing, I guess you could say I had a type.

At the time, there was something intoxicating about being pursued by the one who was always chasing — men who thrived on the rush, on the next high, on never standing still. But what began as intoxicating overtime became discouraging.

What I didn’t realize then was that when someone is addicted to the chase, they don’t know what to do once they’ve caught what they’ve been chasing. They don’t stop running just because they found you. They just start running in a different direction.

Like with all meaningful lessons in life, I learned this one through love and loss. I know it sounds silly, but in order to understand myself, I first made a concerted effort to really understand them.

Because as the saying goes, “You don’t attract what you want. You attract what you are.”

This means that you subconsciously attract people and experiences that reflect your own internal patterns, wounds, and beliefs — not just what you desire. The qualities you seek in others — whether adventure, stability, or depth — often mirror something unresolved or unrecognized within yourself.

We’ll unpack more of this as we go. Let’s dive in.

Personality Profile

So people who are drawn to high-risk activities usually fall into one (or more) of the following psychological categories:

To start, some people are literally wired for thrill-seeking because they have higher dopamine thresholds. Many have what Psychologists would call “High Sensation-Seeking Personalities” and score high on the Sensation-Seeking Scale (SSS). They get bored easily in routine or predictable situations. This means they need bigger, riskier experiences to feel the same excitement that others get from everyday life — and often feel unfulfilled without it.

Think about shark divers — they’re literally choosing to enter an apex predator’s territory. That level of control over fear is intoxicating. In instances like this, they’re not reckless — they’re intentional about confronting fear head-on.

On top of that, some extreme athletes use extreme sports as a way to reclaim control over fear and past trauma. If they grew up in chaos, uncertainty, or environments where fear controlled them, they might gravitate toward activities where they get to decide when and how they face fear. In most cases, it’s not about the risk — it’s about proving to themselves that fear doesn’t control them anymore.

But with all of that, comes a deep, excruciatingly soul crushing restlessness that many of them have in common.

The Restless Soul

The restlessness is so much more than just thrill-seeking — it’s a search for something they can’t quite name. It’s a feeling of being untethered, of not fully belonging anywhere, except in those fleeting moments where they’re completely immersed in the chase and chaos.

They are not just running toward adrenaline, they are running away from something else.

• A childhood where they never felt safe or seen.
• A feeling of being emotionally abandoned.
• A subconscious belief that they’re always on the edge of loss — so why not lean into it?

Parentification

For many, there is a strong correlation between parentification and various psychological patterns — especially in relationships, self-worth, and even the way people chase success or avoid emotional vulnerability.

What Is Parentification?

Parentification happens when a child takes on a parental role — emotionally, physically, or financially — because their caregivers were either unavailable, neglectful, or emotionally immature.

It can take two forms:

• Instrumental Parentification: The child takes on adult responsibilities (caring for siblings, managing household duties, providing financial support).
• Emotional Parentification: The child becomes the emotional caretaker for their parents, absorbing their stress, regulating their emotions, and learning to suppress their own needs to maintain peace.

Children who were parentified learn that their value comes from being useful.

• They become hyper-independent yet struggle to ask for help because they learned it wasn’t available — and when it was, it wasn’t reliable.
• They may become dismissive avoidant in relationships — preferring self-reliance over emotional interdependence.

Something that’s rarely discussed is the quiet grief that deeply parentified children carry into adulthood. Because they were conditioned to prioritize responsibility over joy, many struggle to access playfulness or lightness, unsure if it’s truly safe to let go.

As adults, they often search for meaning externally — through relationships, work, or relentless self-imposed pressure — trying to fill a void that’s hard to name. Even when outwardly successful, many parentified adults carry a deep, lingering undertone of sadness for the version of themselves that never got to simply be.

That’s why extreme experiences feel like home. For some, home isn’t a place. It’s a state of being. Often times, they don’t feel like they belong anywhere, but for those few seconds of free-falling, or cutting through deep waters with sharks, or reaching the top of an impossible climb — they feel present. That’s because there’s no overthinking, no past, no future — just raw existence.

That feeling? That fleeting “this is it” moment? That is their version of home. But it never lasts. And so, the cycle begins again.

The Hardest Truth: It’s Not About the Destination. The hardest part? They’re not actually searching for the next goal. They’re searching for themselves.

No achievement, no adventure, no peak moment will ever feel permanentenough to quiet that inner restlessness. What they truly crave isn’t a bigger thrill — it’s a feeling of being at peace in their own skin.

But they don’t know how to get there without doing something extreme — because who are they without the chase? What happens when they stop running? If they were to stop chasing, stop moving, stop throwing themselves into the next big thing — what would they find?

• The grief they’ve buried.
• The loneliness they’ve been running from.
• The truth that the home they’re searching for was never outside of them — it was always within.

But that’s the hardest place to go. Because stillness? That’s where all the emotions live. And that’s why they keep running. Running from themselves, from their pasts, from any kind of silence that might force them to sit with what they truly feel.

The Weight of Existential Grief

A really good example of this is in Bono’s I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For. This isn’t just a song — it’s a spiritual confession. A realization with the unshakable feeling that no matter what we achieve, love, or experience, there is always something missing. At its core, it speaks to existential grief — that deep, aching sense of loss we carry not because of something we once had and lost, but because of something we feel we were meant to have but will always feel just out of reach.

It’s the grief of the seeker. The grief of those who have everything yet still feel empty.

When Bono sings:

🖤 I have climbed highest mountains / I have run through the fields / Only to be with you

This isn’t just about romance. It’s about the human instinct to believe that fulfillment lies somewhere beyond the present moment. The Search for Something That Cannot Be Found.

• We climb mountains to feel accomplished.
• We travel the world to feel free.
• We fall in love to feel whole.
• We chase dreams to feel worthy.

And yet… the grief still lingers.

Existential Grief Is:

• The ache of knowing that no matter how much time we have, we will never see it all, experience it all, or love it all.
• The quiet sadness that even the best moments are temporary.
• The acceptance that life is inherently unfinished.

Spiritual Takeaway? High performers and high performance athletes aren’t just chasing goals — they’re chasing relief from existential grief. But the problem? The relief never lasts.

High Performers : The Illusion of External Fulfillment

I see this pattern over and over again with high-performing entrepreneurs and executives — brilliant, ambitious, always chasing the next thing, believing that something just beyond their reach will finally bring them the sense of fulfillment they’ve been searching for.

They tell themselves, “Once I hit this revenue goal, once I scale the business, once I exit, once I buy the dream house, once I…” — but the moment they reach it, they’re already onto the next thing. The satisfaction is always fleeting, like a mirage that vanishes the second they get close enough to touch it.

It’s the same psychological mechanism as high performance athletes — except instead of extreme sports, they’re addicted to achievement. The brutal truth? If they’re not enough without the success, they won’t be enough with it either.

They don’t just chase business goals; they chase adrenaline in every aspect of life:

• Some jump into extreme sports.
• Some constantly rebrand, relaunch, restructure.
• Some endlessly optimize their fitness, biohack their bodies, or chase peak performance.
• Some dive into intense relationships, mistaking highs & lows for passion.

They convince themselves they’re searching for growth — but what if they’re really just running from the discomfort of stillness?

Because stillness? That’s where the real work happens.

That’s where they’d have to face:

• The fact that success never healed their wounds.
• That winning the game never changed the way they feel about themselves.
• That for all their power, they still feel powerless over their own inner world.

And that’s scary. So instead, they keep moving, chasing, achieving, thinking fulfillment is just one more goal away. And the irony? When they stop chasing, they finally feel what they were looking for all along.

As Neil Strauss once said, “If you think money will bring you happiness, then make happiness your goal now, so you can have in the present what you wish you’d feel in the future.”

This speaks to the idea that happiness isn’t something you should delay until external conditions are met (like wealth, success, or love). Instead of chasing an outcome, focus on cultivating the internal state you believe that outcome will give you — because if you can’t be happy now, having more won’t magically fix that.

Wanting to succeed isn’t the problem. Believing success will fill an internal void is.

I tell my clients this all the time: It’s not about stopping the chase — it’s about making sure you’re running toward something real, not just running away from yourself. Because at the end of the day? The most powerful person in the room is the one who doesn’t need the next win to feel whole.

Relationship Dynamics

The challenge is, this journey requires A LOT of vulnerability — which is why many will struggle to maintain the feelings they desire. Because it requires facing themselves.

Imagine if it’s this difficult to acknowledge their own feelings, how difficult it will be for them to acknowledge yours — especially in an intimate relationship.

It’s so wild because there is such a profound paradox between people who will throw themselves into life-threatening situations without hesitation but absolutely shut down when it comes to emotional intimacy and vulnerability. That’s not just a personality trait — it’s psychological wiring.

For many, they fear emotional vulnerability more than death. That’s because Physical Danger = Control. Emotional Exposure = No Control.

So when they’re skydiving, shark diving, or pushing their body to the limit, the risk is external — but they still feel in control. They can train, they can prepare, they can anticipate the danger and manage their response. But emotional intimacy? That requires trusting another person. It means surrendering control. And for someone who has lived in survival mode, not being in control emotionally feels way more dangerous than actual physical risk.

Translation? They’ll jump out of a plane before they’ll jump into emotional depth with you — because at least they know how to handle a parachute.

That’s because emotional rejection lingers but physical danger ends. A near-death experience is momentary — you survive it, and it’s over. But emotional wounds? They stay. Rejection, abandonment, shame — those linger for years.

For them, love feels like a gamble. Risk-taking feels like a guarantee — especially when the only variable they are betting on is themselves.

So, What Does This Mean for Their Relationships?

• They might seem fearless in every area except emotional intimacy.
• They might be kind to others but highly critical of themselves.
• They might pull away when things start to feel too real.
• They may test people to see if they’ll stay.

As we know, many may have unresolved trauma, but they don’t show it the “Traditional” way. That’s because they thrive in excitement, so once things feel stable, they may unconsciously create distance.

The Lone Wolf Mentality

But this level of individuality doesn’t just show up romantically. The way they do one thing is the way they do all things. So fascinatingly enough when it comes to work, sports or team dynamics — they often engage in activities that are technically “team-adjacent” but still fundamentally solo. It’s this lone wolf in a pack dynamic, where they crave the presence of others but ultimately rely only on themselves. This happens for a variety of reasons.

In the workplace this can look like:

• Entrepreneurship or Freelance consulting — You work independently, but you network and collaborate with company teams — but you always have one foot in one foot out. You give yourself an exit strategy.
• Investment trading — You make decisions alone, but you’re part of a larger financial ecosystem.
• Software development — You code solo, but you contribute to a shared project with a team.

In extreme sports this can look like:

• Heli-skiing — You’re dropped on a remote mountain, but you still ride with others.
• Rock climbing — You climb alone, but with a belayer or team below.
• Motorcycle racing — You ride solo, but you’re part of a race culture.
• Shark diving — You’re in the cage alone, but you have a crew nearby.

This dynamic is key because it means:

• They get the thrill of full control (no one to rely on but themselves).
• They have others around — but at a safe emotional distance.
• If they fail, it’s on them. If they succeed, it’s theirs alone.

Essentially, they want to belong, but only in a way that doesn’t make them dependent on anyone.

They Love Risk — But on Their Own Terms. In relationships, they might struggle with control — being “needed” can feel suffocating. In their sports/professional life, they control every aspect of their survival. Team sports/ventures? Too unpredictable. Too much emotional reliance. In order to feel in control, they need a high-risk environment, but one where they are the only variable.

Essentially, they’re lone wolves who thrive best in a pack of other lone wolves.

They don’t actually want to be completely alone — but they fear the loss of autonomy more than they fear isolation. So they surround themselves with like-minded people who understand their need for distance, challenge, and risk — but without demanding emotional intimacy in return. But sometimes we choose to be lone wolves because we never trusted a pack could make us feel safe ♥️

Searching For Meaning

This often reminds me of Viktor Frankl’s work and his book “Man’s Search for Meaning”. It ties into this so deeply because at the core of both high performing executives and athletes and existential philosophy is the same question:

What gives life meaning? And how do we cope with suffering?

Frankl, a Holocaust survivor and psychiatrist, believed that humans can endure almost anything — pain, suffering, loss — as long as they can find meaning in it. He argued that when people lack purpose, they chase distraction, numbness, or temporary highs. Sound familiar? This is exactlywhat many do, whether they realize it or not.

Frankl’s core belief was that humans need purpose, not just pleasure, to feel truly alive. But what happens when someone doesn’t know their purpose? They search for meaning in intensity and in the extremes.

For some, that’s drugs or alcohol. For others, it’s mindless work, money, or sex. For some high performing executives and athletes? It’s risk. It’s the high. It’s the chase. Frankl’s Perspective: People don’t just fear death, they fear meaninglessness. And some are fighting that fear with every cliff they jump off.

Frankl’s philosophy suggests that the greatest meaning doesn’t come from intensity, but from connection, purpose, and resilience through suffering. But the adrenaline lifestyle is inherently self-focused — it’s about the individual versus the collective. Frankl’s Warning? If your meaning in life is always dependent on the next high, the next goal, the next extreme experience, you will never actually feel fulfilled.

Healing Relational Patterns

That said, what was the pattern revealed in me and what was I really searching for after understanding the men I have loved and lost?

Going back to the saying — “You don’t attract what you want. You attract what you are.” — this hits deep when I think about my pattern of dating high performers who just happened to also be extreme athletes. At first glance, it might seem like I’m just drawn to their thrill-seeking, wild energy — but the real connection runs deeper.

Just as they run toward adrenaline to feel something, I may have subconsciously run toward relationships that felt like an emotional thrill ride — unpredictable, consuming, intense. It wasn’t about comfort — it was about feeling alive.

It’s not just about what they do (jumping out of helicopters, shark diving, pushing limits). It’s about what they represent emotionally.

They chase intensity — but so do I, just in a different way.

• They chase physical risk — I’ve chased emotional risk.
• They seek the next high — I’ve sought the next depth.
• They avoid stillness — because in stillness, they’d have to sit with their own feelings.
• And maybe… I’ve done the same.

The funny thing is, self-sabotage isn’t random — it happens because, on some level, we are getting exactly what we (subconsciously) want. Even if we don’t know it at the time. If distance was the one thing that kept you safe as a child, then allowing yourself to experience closeness as an adult will (at first) feel unsafe and unsettling.

In many ways, I wasn’t just drawn to them — I understood them.

Loving someone who is wired for the chase — whether in extreme sports, high-stakes business, or emotional intensity — means that the relationship itself can start to mirror that same pattern of pursuit and avoidance. So the attraction wasn’t random. Our wounds fit perfectly together like two puzzle pieces shaped by the same pain — manifested differently.

World renowned couples therapists, Helen and Harville Hendrix talks about how we are drawn to partners who reflect our unhealed emotional wounds. Real love isn’t about avoiding pain — it’s about revealing it. The person we’re drawn to will always reflect back what we need to heal. The greatest gift love offers isn’t comfort, but clarity. It places a mirror in front of us, forcing us to see what we’d rather look away from. The real challenge isn’t staying with them; it’s staying with ourselves long enough to face what we’d rather run from. So the chemistry was never just about attraction — it was about recognition.

And that’s why the only way to truly “fix” this is not by changing the person, but by changing the pattern.

Love isn’t about fixing each other. It’s about breaking the pattern together — so that no one has to keep running anymore.

As I began to heal my own wounds, I think the biggest lesson of all was realizing I no longer wanted to be someone’s next big adventure — Instead, I deeply wanted to be someone’s safest forever home ♥️