Is There Such a Thing as "The Burden of Potential"?
A 4am post
Is there such a thing as “the burden of potential”?
In tough moments, I find myself searching for clarity—asking again and again why I'm here, why I've chosen this difficult path. On the surface, the answer seems simple enough: I want to succeed. Yet there's a voice beneath that confident claim, uncertain and shaky, that became painfully clear last week in Olly’s office. It felt weird to admit that my supposed "why" didn’t fully resonate. Even now, part of me struggles to fully believe it. There’s an internal tug-of-war, a constant negotiation within myself, leaving me feeling disconnected, unsure of what exactly I’m aiming at.
But deeper than this confusion lies a genuine hunger—to push beyond this uncertainty, sharpen my focus, refine my abilities, and create something extraordinary. I crave a life filled with meaning and impact. My heart pulls me toward building things that matter, harnessing AI, materials science, and human creativity—to develop innovations that can empower people. In addition, as adulthood begins to truly settle in during these early twenties, undeniably human desires creep in as well: my mind often drifts to the sleek lines and meticulous sculpting of the countless Porsche and Ferrari cars scattered around my neighbourhood, imagining the pride of sharing a beautiful home in Chelsea with my loved ones, dogs padding gently across hardwood floors, the simple joy of stylish clothes, and the reassuring confidence of having it all under control—bills paid, investments made, savings secured. Part of me deeply desires that sense of pride when I walk down the street; part of me just wants to be noticed, to feel known.
I know, logically, that these things won't magically fix everything—that's not how it works—but god, does it seem like it would. And part of me wants to know what that feels like.
But contrary to this yearning, there's a darker part of myself—I’m not entirely sure if this is the shadow self Carl Jung spoke of—that feels fearful, uncertain, and deeply skeptical. It constantly whispers warnings, undermines my sense of worthiness, mocks my abilities, and relentlessly questions whether I'm truly capable of achieving these dreams. This internal conflict leaves me stuck, suspended between desperately wanting something and actually committing to the actions required to achieve it. Instead, I get caught up trying to convince myself, endlessly negotiating away from these exhausting internal debates and the chaos of mental chatter. It's genuinely paralyzing. Too often, action only comes during brief, intense bursts of inspiration or overwhelming FEAR—fear of failing, fear of mediocrity, fear of wasting this potential I've always been assured I have. This fear, this "burden of potential," weighs heavily upon me.
Teachers, family, and friends in the past have all spoken about my potential, reinforcing the image of someone destined to achieve and do great things. I’ve carried this belief proudly, even in questionable moments like when it fuels the burnout trying to juggle multiple things at once or the perfectionism it induces, ive weathered a lot of its storms and also enjoyed the highs its brought, the amazing privileges, people and places its allowed me to soar to. But it also presses heavily upon me, especially here at Imperial. The past two years have shaken my confidence deeply, sowing seeds of doubt and challenging the very foundations of the self-belief I've cultivated over a lifetime. I’m haunted by the fear of never actualizing this potential, terrified that if my journey here ends badly, I won't just disappoint myself—I’ll shatter the trust and expectations others have placed in me.
This fear feels vivid, tangible, and overwhelming at times. Occasionally, it fuels me into action, but more often it holds me captive, paralyzed until that higher, wiser, resilient part of myself intervenes. This inner voice gently but persistently reminds me that while these fears are valid, they're not permanent. It reassures me that my dreams of creating meaningful change, building transformative tools, and living a healthy, purpose-driven life are worth every struggle, every doubt, and every hard-earned victory. And even as I type this, I sense another part of myself trying to interject—and I genuinely want to hear it out. Jung is teaching me that this part needs to be acknowledged, embraced, and integrated fully into the version of myself that seeks greatness. Yet, with life's constant demands, exams fuelling urgency, and the winds of innovation pushing me forward, it’s challenging to provide the space and attention needed to truly understand it. So yes, perhaps there is a burden of potential, but it's mine to carry. Beneath all this fear lies a fundamental truth: that I must confront it head-on, meeting triumph and disaster alike, and continue chasing my dreams—because this is precisely where my true journey begins.
