I Have Applied for the Position of "Person Who Wants to Do Everything"

If there was a full-time job for wanting to do everything, I would have been Employee of the Month six months in a row.

One minute I'm building a startup. The next I'm filling out an application for a fellowship in another country. Then I remember I should probably finish that online course. Oh, and didn't I say I wanted to start going to the gym? Wait... wasn't I also supposed to read that book everyone keeps recommending? Somewhere in between all that, someone texts me, "How are you?" and I'm tempted to reply, "Which version of me are you asking about?"

The funny thing is, I genuinely believe I can do it all.

My Google Calendar believes me.

My to-do list definitely believes me.

My laptop fan believes me.

My body? Not so much.

I used to think that successful people had some secret superpower. Maybe they never got tired. Maybe they had 48 hours in a day while the rest of us were stuck with 24. Maybe they secretly hired clones.

Turns out, no.

Most of them just got really good at saying no.

Now that's a skill no one prepared me for.

As children we were told, "Dream big."

Nobody added the footnote that said, "Also, pick one dream at a time before you combust."

The older I get, the more I realise that having potential is both a blessing and a tiny curse.

Because when you're good at a few things, you convince yourself you should be doing all of them... today.

You start ten projects.

Open seventeen tabs.

Reply to three emails.

Research a Master's degree.

Watch a motivational video.

Then somehow end up reorganising your desktop folders because apparently that suddenly became urgent.

Tell me why my brain thinks renaming files is productivity.

One day someone said something that annoyed me because it made too much sense.

"It doesn't work for everyone, but if it works for you, keep doing your thing."

Simple.

Almost suspiciously simple.

At first I thought, "No, I need a better strategy than that."

Then I realized I've spent so much time looking sideways at everyone else's journey that I forgot to walk on mine.

Comparison is exhausting.

There's always someone younger.

Someone richer.

Someone smarter.

Someone already where you want to be.

If that's the scoreboard you're using, you'll never feel like you're winning.

Lately, I've also noticed something about myself.

I have this habit of waiting for "the helper."

The person who will discover me.

The mentor who will magically open every door.

The investor.

The opportunity.

The connection.

The miracle.

Basically, I'm waiting for someone to walk into my life and say,

"Congratulations! We've noticed you've been struggling. Here's a VIP pass to success."

Imagine.

Netflix should make that series because reality certainly isn't.

The uncomfortable truth?

Nobody is coming to rescue me.

Not because people don't care.

But because everyone is busy trying to rescue themselves too.

That was both heartbreaking and strangely freeing.

It means I stop waiting.

I start building.

I stop refreshing my inbox every six minutes.

(Okay... maybe every ten minutes. Growth is gradual.)

I stop believing that one rejection defines me.

Or that one acceptance suddenly fixes everything.

Life isn't a movie where dramatic music plays as everything magically falls into place.

Sometimes it's just you... drinking tea that's gone cold because you forgot it existed while editing the same document for the fourth time.

Character development.

I'm still figuring myself out.

Honestly, I don't think there's a deadline for that.

Some people discover themselves at eighteen.

Others at thirty-five.

Some after changing careers.

Some after heartbreak.

Some after travelling.

Some after failing spectacularly.

Some while standing in the supermarket wondering why cereal has become so expensive.

Life teaches in interesting ways.

I've also realised that doing the most isn't always doing the best.

Busy doesn't automatically mean productive.

A full calendar doesn't always mean a full life.

Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is close five tabs—both on your laptop and in your mind—and give one thing your full attention.

That's harder than it sounds.

Especially if you're like me and get excited by literally every opportunity that appears on LinkedIn.

"Wow... this fellowship looks amazing."

"Wait... this conference too."

"Ooh... another grant."

"Hold on... they're looking for ambassadors?"

Suddenly you're applying for everything except sleep.

These days I'm trying something different.

Not smaller dreams.

Just fewer dreams at the same time.

I'm learning to ask myself:

"What deserves my best energy right now?"

Not next year.

Not forever.

Just... right now.

Because maybe purpose isn't found by chasing everything.

Maybe it's found by staying with something long enough to become really good at it.

And if one day I discover that I've been walking in the wrong direction?

That's okay too.

I'll turn.

At least I'll have been moving.

So no, I don't have life figured out.

I'm still learning.

Still changing.

Still overthinking.

Still occasionally convincing myself that I can finish a week's worth of work before lunch.

(Spoiler: I cannot.)

But I'm becoming more comfortable with not doing everything.

Because maybe success isn't about collecting as many opportunities as possible.

Maybe it's about becoming the kind of person who makes the most of the opportunities that truly matter.

And if you're also out there trying to juggle fifteen dreams, twelve applications, seven unfinished books, three side hustles, and one fragile attention span...

Welcome.

We should probably start by taking a nap.

Then we'll figure it out together.