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I have a habit of convincing myself I can do everything. Hand me an interesting idea or an opportunity that sounds promising, and I’m already figuring out where it fits in my week. Never mind what’s already on my plate. I’ll find a way.
For a long time, I did. Lately I’ve been thinking about what that habit costs, especially when everything competing for my attention is something I actually want.
Two Futures
A few years before COVID, I had a corporate job I loved, with a great team and work I enjoyed. I had no real reason to leave.
I also had an idea. I wanted to build a talent marketplace, a platform that would connect nontraditional talent with opportunities. Rather than keep talking about it, I joined a tech incubator.
My weekends went to incubator classes. On weeknights, after a full day at work, I interviewed potential customers, gathered requirements and shaped the concept. I got as far as a minimum viable product (MVP). Through all of it, I still had a family to take care of.
I was doing a lot, and I loved it. The job and the startup both were important to me. I had no interest in giving either one up.
Looking back, that was the problem. I wanted both futures.
The Choice I Didn’t Make
When COVID arrived, the incubator shut down. I was disappointed, because we’d made real progress and I believed in the idea.
I was also relieved.
Suddenly I had a perfectly legitimate reason to stop. The incubator was closed and the whole world was dealing with a pandemic. Nobody was going to argue with me for putting a startup on hold, and I certainly wasn’t going to argue with myself. I never had to answer whether I could keep running both lives at that pace.
When we moved to Atlanta, the idea came with me. I researched incubators here and even talked to a couple of them. I never followed through.
I still wonder sometimes what that marketplace could have become. I’ll never know. What interests me more now is how long I kept the possibility alive without ever deciding what to do with it.
The Other Side of Curious
Earlier this year I wrote about the years I spent calling myself scattered until I realized my curiosity and my knack for connecting unrelated things were strengths. Read Issue 6 here. I still believe that. However, I’m also starting to see what it costs.
I recently came across a piece by Anne-Laure Le Cunff at Ness Labs called The Curiosity Conflict. Her point is that the same curiosity that makes ideas easy to generate makes it hard to commit to one. Exploring is exciting. At some point you have to narrow your attention and give one possibility enough time to become real.But, a brain that loves exploring resists that shift.
That got my attention because I love exploring. When another interesting opportunity shows up, my instinct is to make room for it. Sometimes I have the capacity and the desire to carry several things at once. Other times I’m avoiding the discomfort of choosing, because every choice means something I care about gets less of me. I called it curiosity. Some of the time, that’s exactly what it was.
So I tell myself I can manage both. I’ll organize my time better, or I’ll squeeze it into the weekend.
I’ve gotten pretty good at finding room for one more thing. I’m still learning when to stop.
The Cost of Keeping Every Door Open
The marketplace taught me a lot, and I got far enough to see it had potential. Whether I should have left my job for it is a question I can’t answer. What I question is that I never made the call. I let circumstances answer for me, and when circumstances changed, I left the question unanswered.
You might be doing the same thing right now. Maybe you’re weighing a career change while pouring all your energy into the career you already have. Or you’re holding onto a commitment because you know you can do it, and you haven’t asked whether you still want to.
You’re capable so you keep finding ways to make it work. Being able to do something tells you nothing about whether it deserves a place in your life right now. Some ideas can wait, and some will never go anywhere. Choosing means you have to live with that.
Next time, I’d rather make the call myself than wait for the world to close the door for me.
What are you waiting for circumstances to decide for you?
Until next Tuesday.
Ceaneh

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