Potential Isn’t Practical, or, Why you seriously need to stop comparing yourself to others.

It was 11 at night and I was at school. A good friend, one year younger, walked in and we got to talking. He told me about One Young World, an incredible opportunity to meet world-changers and influencers from across the globe.

I was already aware of this organization. I had consciously decided against applying because when I stacked my resume against those of people who were selected, I wasn’t even close to being in their league.

My friend, much wiser than his age would dictate, told me that the organization places great value on the potential to make change. And he told me I had that potential, and that I should apply.

My first action was to thank him for these kind words. My second, third, fourth, and fifth actions were to raise reasons why I wouldn’t even bother applying. All of these were variations of the phrase “I’m not good enough.”

But if the whole process is based on potential, which even I think I have, then why wouldn’t I take a shot?

And it dawned on me that, somewhere along the way, I had managed to convince myself I wasn’t good enough. I might be good in my little bubble, where I know most people and can woo a crowd when I need too. But I’m a little nervous when we move a few steps beyond that level. And I believe I’m simply not good enough when we move to the level of, y’unno, doing important, positive work.

It wasn’t the big failures that drove me to this state of mind but the little ones. Failing to keep up small habits. Failing at things I had done dozens of times before. Failing to take control when doing so could have made all the difference.

Somewhere between all of these little trials, I started to believe I wasn’t good enough. I know it because my dream started to change.

Since I was 14, I have wanted to be the Prime Minister of Canada. We’re a great country with so much potential, if only we could realize how great we could be.

How could I have the audacity to dream of doing something so powerful as leading a nation when I couldn’t even manage to cook an egg properly, or catch the bus on time, or get a single case in class correct (and yes, there were days when all three of these happened).

No, I couldn’t lead. I couldn’t even think of doing it. The country deserved better.

So I pulled back my ambitions. I would have a successful career. I would have many great friends and hopefully a special someone. I’d be okay. In fact, I’d live what might be considered a textbook definition of a good life.

And yet, there was still that tiny whisper inside me, spoken by a voice somehow not silenced.

That voice demands more.

I don’t know if I can provide that “more”, that need to do something positive. I listen to this voice because it makes me feel like I haven’t given up. This feeling is cold comfort when you haven’t actually done anything to prove you haven’t given up on being something spectacular.

Now being the good people you are (thanks again for reading!) you’re probably thinking about the time I wrote about comparing yourself and how it serves no purpose but to make you feel bad.

But through this pep talk, I’ve discovered that it can do something even worse: comparing yourself can make you limit yourself. It makes you focus on what you can do, not on what you could do.

Comparing yourself makes you, or at least made me, think in a way that might be called practical.

Potential isn’t practical. If we measured potential by what was to our knowledge possible, then I sincerely doubt I’d be typing this right now. Literally, the keyboard, computer monitor, and Internet would probably not have been invented.

I know these blogs usually end with some degree of lesson learned or mission accomplished or, on occasion, an almost funny joke. I don’t have one for you this time. I have a story that has yet to be concluded.

I have the knowledge that I’ve been limiting myself. I have the annoyance/blessing/pain of an internal voice that demands more from me. I have the guilt of almost shooting down someone who had the courage to have faith in me.

All of that moaning being released, I’m going to apply to the conference. Because I have nothing to lose, sure. But also because someone sees something in me that I used to. If I don’t get chosen, that faith will not diminish. If I do get chosen, I don’t think it will restore the confidence I used to have, though it will probably help.

But if I don’t take control, then nothing will change. Things will only be okay. And now, finally, the little voice inside isn’t the only part of that can’t accept this.

Editor’s note: If you have a topic idea, I’d love to hear from you! Suggestions can be made in the comments section or on Twitter @JeremyDeMello.