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The Silent Agony of Playing It Safe
Settling Hurts More Than Failing
There I was, sitting in my first semester of grad school, feeling totally out of place. Everyone around me was buzzing with plans for their degrees, but not me. I looked around and caught the eyes of a couple of others who seemed just as disconnected as I felt. It was like we had this unspoken bond, a mutual understanding that we were all thinking, "What am I doing here?"
Honestly, I landed in grad school because it seemed like the logical next step after undergrad. Everyone said it was the right move. But deep down, I knew this path of becoming a career administrator in higher education wasn’t for me. It wasn’t about the profession being unworthy; it just didn't light me up inside. It felt like I was gearing up to play a role that wasn't written for me.
This realization hit hard and it hurt, A LOT. I knew that if I stuck it out, I'd end up with a degree I'd never use or, worse, end up in a career that would never fulfill me. The idea of continuing felt like willingly shackling myself to a future I didn’t want. After a few soul-searching weeks and more than a couple of tears, I made one of the hardest decisions of my life: I dropped out.
Dropping out wasn’t about quitting; it was about fighting the urge to play small. It was acknowledging that the path laid out in front of me, the path that seemed so right on paper, was actually a detour away from my true potential.
This wasn't about finding the next stepping stone laid out by someone else's expectations; it was about carving out my own path, even if it meant stepping into the unknown.
This is the paradox of playing small. On the surface, it feels safe, like you're avoiding risks and potential failure. But in reality, it's the most dangerous game of all.
It’s a silent killer of dreams, a steady drain on your soul.
Every idea that comes to you and gets pushed aside.
Every impulse to step beyond your comfort zone that’s ignored, is a piece of your potential you're letting slip through your fingers.
In this newsletter, we're diving into why playing small is so painful. It’s not just about the regret of missed opportunities; it’s about living a half-life, a shadow of what could be.
Let’s unravel this together. Let's explore how to live fully, without reservation, and truly play the game of life to win, not just to stay in the game. Because, in the end, playing small is not just painful; it's a disservice to the very essence of who we are and who we’re meant to be.
Ever had that nagging feeling like you're just not where you're supposed to be?
Like you're standing at the edge of a cliff, all geared up and ready to jump, but instead, you take a step back?
That's what playing small feels like. It's like denying yourself the leap because you're convinced you can't handle the fall—or worse, you're convinced you don't deserve the flight. And you probably don’t need me tell you, that realization stings.
I remember sitting in that grad school classroom, feeling like a square peg being forced into a round hole. Filling out those applications, then sitting through those lectures, I kept waiting for that moment of clarity, that rush of excitement everyone else seemed to be feeling.
But it never came.
Instead, there was this growing dread, a realization that I was marching in the opposite direction of where my heart wanted to go. And deep down, I knew it the whole time.
We all do, on some level. It's why playing small is so damn painful. It's not just about missed opportunities or what-ifs; it's self-denial you can’t deny.
Breaking Down the Pain of Playing Small
The Illusion of Safety: We cling to comfort zones like life rafts, thinking they'll keep us safe. But all they do is keep us small, floating in a never-ending sea of what could be. The cost? A life half-lived.
The Lies We Tell Ourselves: It's incredible, the stories we can concoct to justify our inaction. "I'm not good enough," "It's not the right time," "Someone else could do it better." These narratives are sedatives, numbing the ache of unfulfilled potential.
Rationalizing Inaction: How often have we stood at the crossroads of decision, only to choose the path well-trodden? It's easier to rationalize staying put than to face the uncertainty of chasing what lights you up.
The Discomfort of Unfulfillment: There's this unease that comes with knowing you're not doing what you're here to do. It's like wearing a coat tailored for someone else; it might protect you from the cold, but it will never fit right.
Why does it hurt? Because there's this unshakeable knowing, deep in our cores, that we're meant for more. And every day we choose not to pursue that 'more,' we're betraying ourselves.
But here's the silver lining: the fact that it hurts means we're still alive in there. We haven't numbed out completely. There's still room for change, for growth, for stepping into our power.
When you feel that sting, that ache of playing it small, remember:
it's a sign.
A reminder that you're not here to blend into the background.
You're here to blaze a trail, to bring those ideas that visit you to life.
Because, like every other species on this planet, you have something unique to offer. And it's high time you claimed it.
What's the deal with this pain?
It's a reminder from our soul that we're moving in the opposite direction of our greatness. It's our inner self saying, "Hey, wake up. You're more than this."
You know, feeling the sting of playing small isn't just discomfort—
It's a wake-up call.
It's a sign that deep down, we're not totally numb to our potential.
It's proof we're still alive in the game, that change isn't just possible; it's calling our name.
Playing small hurts so much because it's like being in a room that's too small for you. You can't stretch, can't grow. You're stuck, and every part of you knows it.
This isn't about not reaching some high-flying goal.
It's about not even trying, about silencing that voice inside that says, "You were made for more than this."
Why Playing Small Is a Pain Worth Paying Attention To:
The False Comfort of the Comfort Zone: It's like wrapping yourself in a cozy blanket that's too tight. Sure, it feels safe, but it's also suffocating. The real cost of this safety is the dreams and adventures you never chase.
The Lies We Tell Ourselves: We're masters of self-deception, telling ourselves stories about why we can't or shouldn't strive for more. These false narratives are the chains that keep us playing small.
The Rationalizations That Hold Us Back: "It's not the right time," "I'm not ready," "What if I fail?" Sound familiar? These excuses are our brain's way of keeping us where it thinks we're safe. But all they really do is build a wall between us and our true desires.
Knowing, deep in our bones, that we're not doing what we're here to do. That we're not fulfilling our purpose. It's a discomfort that's you’ll never be able to truly shake.
Playing small isn't just about not doing the big things. It's about the garden you never plant, the language you never learn, the art class you never take. It's about every moment you choose safety over what sets your soul on fire.
Ideas don't come from us; they come to us. And when we ignore them, they move on to someone who's ready to embrace them.
Ever had a lightbulb moment? An idea so bright and clear, it felt like it was handed to you on a silver platter? That's because, in a way, it was.
Ideas are opportunists, floating around, looking for the right person at the right time and place. And that person? It could be you.
Ideas don't come from you. They come to you. They're not your brainchildren; they're visitors, looking for a place to take root.
It's a fascinating concept, isn't it?
The universe, or whatever force you believe in, dropping these nuggets of potential into your lap, saying,
"Here you go. What will you do with this?"
And let's be clear: this isn't some cruel practical joke on us.
The idea that we would be given the capacity for imagination and creativity only to be denied the ability to realize these visions?
That doesn't add up.
But, and it's a big but, the universe isn't about to play games with you if you're determined to sit on the sidelines.
If you're caught up in the game of playing small, those ideas are going to bounce. They're outta there, off to find someone who's ready to roll up their sleeves and bring them to life.
How many times have we muttered to ourselves, "I thought of that," while scrolling through our feeds, seeing someone else living out a version of our unacted-upon dreams?
And then comes that pinch of jealousy.
Let's be real—it's not about them. It's about us, about that stinging realization that we didn't even try.
Ideas don't have the patience to wait around while we wondering whether the message they're bearing is really meant for us.
They're on a mission. And if you're not on board, they're moving on.
Consider this: every single thing you use in your daily life, from the simple convenience of a chair to the complex genius of a smartphone, exists because someone, somewhere, didn't ignore their "lightbulb moment."
They didn't shrug off their idea for a more convenient time or wait until they felt 'special' enough to be worthy of action.
They recognized the opportunity and seized it.
In the realm of ideas, being 'special' is a non-factor.
If you're breathing, you're special enough. The universe isn't going to wait for you to muster the courage or find the perfect moment.
It's on you to catch that idea and run with it.
When the NEXT “I can’t believe I got this” idea comes knocking, don't let it slip away because you're playing it small or waiting for a sign that you're 'ready.'
You are the opportunity the idea is seeking.
Embrace it, nurture it, and let it fly.
Because in this game, playing small is the biggest risk of all.
It's not just about what you could miss out on personally but what the world could miss out on because you didn't step up.
Don't let your lightbulb moments become someone else's bright idea.
The Sting of Hoarding Ideas
Hoarding ideas, keeping them locked away in the vault of our minds, does a disservice not just to ourselves but to the world at large. It's a self-inflicted wound, deepened by the sight of others bringing to life the dreams we've tucked away.
This is more than personal regret or the pang of "what could have been." It's about the collective loss, the innovations, joys, and revolutions we deny the world by playing it safe and small.
Why does this hoarding hurt us so deeply?
It Amplifies Regret: Every idea shelved is a missed opportunity for growth, a 'what if' that grows heavier with time.
Stunts Personal Growth: By not acting on our ideas, we deny ourselves the chance to learn, to fail, and ultimately, to grow.
Contributes to a Culture of Fear: When we play small, we reinforce the narrative that stepping beyond comfort is too risky, perpetuating a cycle of inaction.
Denies the World Your Contributions: Your idea could be the solution to a problem, the start of a movement, or simply something that brings joy to others. Hoarding it robs the world of that potential.
So, how do we stop hoarding and start sharing? How do we leave the race of playing small and step into the big leagues of ideas and creation?
Recognize the Universal Nature of Ideas: Remember, ideas are looking for a vessel, not a vault. Acknowledge that hoarding them serves no one, least of all you.
Embrace a Mindset of Abundance: There are more ideas out there than you could ever act on alone. Sharing one doesn't leave you empty-handed; it opens space for new inspiration.
Take Action, However Small: Start by sharing your ideas with trusted friends or peers. Feedback can morph a raw concept into something truly game-changing.
Celebrate the Act of Creation: Focus on the joy of bringing something new into the world, not on the outcome. The act of creation is a reward in itself.
Learn from Each Experience: Whether an idea flourishes or falters, there's always a lesson. Embrace it, and let it guide you to your next venture.
Stepping out of the shadows of hoarding and into the light of creation is a journey of courage. It's about believing in the value of your ideas and your ability to bring them to life. Remember, playing small serves no one. The world is waiting for what you have to offer. It's time to join the big league, where ideas are not just born but brought to life.
So, ask yourself: Are you ready to stop sitting on the bench of ideas? Are you ready to play the game, not just to stay in it but to win it? Because, trust me, the pain of playing small is a small price to pay for the joy of living large.