Fiona’s not alone. “The need for perfection can mean that the focus on success impacts the hyper-achiever’s fundamental self-care needs,” Seabrook says.

My own hyper-achievement continued well into university. I became addicted to my new-found love of acting and attempted to perform in as many plays as possible – participating in over 20 shows in just three years. I couldn’t stop adding more and more ‘wins’ to my CV; it was a compulsion.

At the time, I didn’t realise I was self-sabotaging; I felt happy (if a little frantic and overly fixated on my next ‘achievement’). But in hindsight, I lost out on so many precious memories of a university life I didn’t experience. I’ve stayed friends with some people from uni and they have a plethora of ‘in-jokes’ that I don’t understand because I was always away doing tech rehearsals or learning lines in my room. I never went on the annual beach trip, or worked in the college bar. And I’ll never get that time back.

As hyper-achievers go, I was actually pretty lucky. “Constant self-dissatisfaction will undoubtedly impact someone’s mental wellbeing,” says Seabrook. “Their sense of self is fractured and conditional on success, rather than on who they are. So, they cannot validate themselves, because they believe the harsh inner critical voice. Burnout – from the ever-present need to achieve – and feelings of being an imposter are likely to be constant.”

I never experienced burnout. But Fiona did, at medical school. “I worked my butt off in my first year while trying to juggle a social life, which meant several nights out a week,” she says. “I was completely burned out by the end of the year – my grades were good, but I was not happy.”

Serious life events, including two deaths within her family, led to Fiona experiencing a breakdown in her second year of university. “I started on antidepressants, which made me extremely drowsy, and I ended up falling asleep at the wheel and writing off my car,” she tells me. “I was very fortunate not to hit anything except an empty bus stop.”

This was Fiona’s turning point. “Once I got over this horrible period, the pressure I put on myself evaporated,” she says. “I wanted to complete med school, but the goal of 100% was very much gone, and I decided that a pass – 60% – was good enough.

“I now take life one step at a time,” she continues. “Earlier this year, I was single and unemployed, having quit medicine. My 30th birthday was looming. I was very unhappy. [But] I have been slowly piecing things back together, and am now able to say, ‘Focus on one area, try to get that to a place I’m happy with, and things will fall into place’.”

Both Fiona and I left the careers with which we were so fixated growing up. I gave up on acting a few years ago and turned to writing. I’m not sure hyper-achieving will ever truly leave me – I still keep moving my own personal goalposts of what ‘success’ means (the more I achieve, the more I want to achieve) – but over the last decade I’ve begun working out what truly makes me happy, which is the relationships in my life. The burning need to distinguish myself is gradually fading, replaced by a growing desire for contentment, love and laughter.

Seabrook has some parting words for anyone worried about hyper-achievement. “Accepting that you are a high-achiever and acknowledging that you will need help to address this is the first step,” she says. “Seek out a qualified therapist or trained coach who can work with you. The high-achiever will need to work on self-acceptance and redefine what self-worth means. Develop ways to challenge perfectionism, set boundaries and work on self-compassion. Invest in celebrating small wins and hone your focus on being present, rather than doing.”

If you want to talk to someone about an eating disorder, BEAT offer helpline support via email, telephone and live chat on their website.

“I thought I was just ambitious – until my hyper-achievement began sabotaging my life”