It’s 3am and I can’t sleep again. I’m sitting at my computer exhausted, and typing away my frustrations.
Again.
But since my therapist costs too much and I don’t have much time to think during the day, writing will be my fix for now. A moment to release. What will I release today, you may be wondering? Don’t worry, I’ll tell you.
I’ve always wanted to be great. I’ve read memoirs, heard quotes and watched about a million documentaries about people who have accomplished great things, changed industries, and inspired generations – people who leave their mark on this world. Ever since I was very young I dreamed about leaving my mark on the world one day. I always wanted to do something great. It’s true, I never know what that great thing is, but I felt I was destined to make the world a better place.
Now, at 32 years old, I can’t help but feel like I’ve accomplished no such greatness, and since becoming a mother I’m too tired and crabby to jolly out of bed in the morning, let alone be great at something.
It is a sad state of affairs and recently I’ve asked myself “What if I’m nothing but a daydreamer? What if I die and take all this alleged greatness into the dirt with me?”
I’ve had so many ideas, too many ideas, that have all landed flat as a wet, cold pancake. Each time I’m smothered by the weight of it. Another part of me is resentful at this pressure to be great, as if Plain Jane life somehow implies that you are a failure. To be honest I’d like to disappear from it all. Perhaps I can turn myself into a bird and fly far far away – it’s nice to dream.
Alas I mope, disappointed in all that I have not accomplished in my 32 years and passionately hopeless about the future. I’ve sat on this feeling most of the day. The problem isn’t the missing shine on my resume. It’s about not being fulfilled and feeling terrible about it.
I ask sweet destiny to liven up my life with a plan, but I can’t help but think that my destiny is unrealized potential. And why couldn’t it be?
After all, we’re chuck full of unrealized potential. Like a despicable breed of human, Plain Janes are shamed in our society for selfishly hiding away all their gifts and we cringe at the thought of being one of those losers.
Don’t die without realizing your potential!
The message could not be more clear; no doubt it’s the biggest item on our to-do list. In fact, it’s so big I’ve spent my entire existence chasing after it. So far the only thing I’ve realized is my agility and stamina to chase after my own tail. I wonder, would it be so bad to be a human with unrealized potential?
It begs the question: what does ‘realized’ even mean?
I am a fangirl of greatness. There are so many incredible people who have done awe inspiring things and changed the world; for better or worse. I look up to these people, because somewhere in my mind I am smaller than them – not as brave, not as edgy, and never as passionate. In my quest for greatness it seemed to me an easy formula: find something you love, something meant just for you, and unleash your potential into it. Soar through the winds of success and tell those who aren’t soaring that you too can have freedom and wings.
For those people, potential is realized. Like a spark that ignites the fire that lives in all of us, it seems to turn on – dimly at first. Over the years the flame grows into this overwhelming source of energy we recognize as something so magnificent, it changes the world.
At least that’s what it looks like on the outside.
A basketball player might see his spark the first time he dribbles a ball. A musician might feel it when he hears a sweet melody. A comedian may realize it when he makes his mother smile. Most of us miss it, but all of us can agree – it’s that intangible feeling behind true joy.
It’s when you feel most free.
For me it’s a place where I have no obligations, no to-do list, goals or appointments, and no potential to realize. It’s a place where I can just exist in this moment that seems to extend forever. There are no ‘shoulds’ weighing me down or expectations making me suffer.
Here I have wings that span the length of the entire sky.
Here is where I fly.