No One Cares About My Potential Anymore

Over the last couple weeks, I realized something that freaked me out. No one cares about my potential anymore. This is troubling, and, I gotta say, I’m a little bit shook. I’ve gone from a promising up-and-comer, to a bust. The event that did it? Having kids. And you know something? I’ve having a tough time figuring out what to make of it, quite frankly. So give me a break, will you!

For the entirety of my pre-offspring life, people talked about me in terms of my potential. I was the future! My leadership would be needed! The baton would get passed, and I would, one day, be running the world, making the changes, and helping to take our collective next steps. In school we’d hear, “You’re the leaders of tomorrow.” Grand expectations were thrust onto us to enact progress. This was a generational mantra expressed over, and over again, and you know something? It was pretty reassuring.

I took comfort knowing, one day, I’d be in charge. That I’d get my turn to show this world a thing or two. It was hopeful to know that one day, I’d get to leave my mark. It was soothing to believe that my general lack in accomplishment, so far, was fine, since my time was coming. I was full of potential, after all. I hadn’t gotten my shot. I was still a back up in the game of life, patiently waiting my turn. I just became old enough to run for President, after all. I still got plenty of time.

Then, I had kids, and guess what? All that went out the window. Any potential that I hadn’t actualized yet? Pffft. Gone. Any power, status, achievement, control, impact, change, or progress that I hadn’t enacted? Doesn’t matter anymore. No one cares. Why? Because there’s a new generation in town. A fresher version, untouched by cynicism, or skepticism, or the general muck of the world. It’s a shinier model. Better, faster, stronger. Meanwhile, the model prior to mine was still running just fine. To them, my model doesn’t have the experience. My wife let me in on a fun fact today. Millenials are approaching their forties! Yet, we talk about them like they’re young whipper-snappers, full for bluster but no bite, fueled by entitlement with no experience. THESE PEOPLE ARE GOING TO BE 40 SOON!

So, here I am. Almost instantly, I went from the next big thing, to some poor slob that’s been charged with ensuring the flourishing of the next generation. Did I miss something? I thought it was my time. But, alas, this is the predicament of the parent. And it’s a tough spot to be in. In an instant, it went from being all about my ceiling, to being about someone else’s ceiling. My ceiling wasn’t important anymore. Whether I had hit it or not was irrelevant. It just didn’t matter. What mattered transitioned from your ceiling to your kids’.

As a parent, you make a lot of decisions. If you’re a good parent, most of them concern what’s best for your kids. Where should we live? Well, around the best schools possible, of course! Never mind that it’s a 75 minute or 90 minute or 2 hour commute, ONE WAY! If it means my kid gets a better shot at going to the best school, let’s do it. What are we going to do this weekend? We’re going to go to a really cool festival. What’s cool about it? I heard they have a balloon guy there and our kids love balloons! Never mind that I haven’t seen my friends in months. I want my kid to be happy. What’s the week look like? Well, I’m going to make sure my kids have a nice variety of activities, from intellectual, to artistic, to physical. I need to make sure he/she is well-rounded, finds things he/she actually likes, and develops all parts of himself/herself to his/her fullest capacity. Never mind that I’ve been thinking about learning an instrument, picking up an extra language, launching a new career, or turning into the kick-ass person my parents and teachers told me I was destined to become.

Again, here I am. I thought about this for a long time. Actually, it’s probably been a good 10-14 days that I’ve been sitting on this bombshell. I’m washed up, and I was never…washed? Washed down? What’s the opposite of washed up? And where does “washed up” even come from, anyway. Washed up. Anything washed, in my book, is okay by me. Way more preferred than not washed. Forget it. I was washed up, but never even in my prime!

While I was wallowing in this existential conundrum, it hit me. No one cares about my potential because they don’t have to. Not because I still don’t have it, but because I’m a grown man. You know what else people used to concern themselves with? Whether I brushed my teeth or not. Whether I washed my hands. Whether it was time for bed. Whether my outfit fit the occasion. Do I lament the fact that no one seems preoccupied with those things anymore? No. Why is that? Because I’m a grown man. I can tend to those things just fine, thank you very much. Well, I mean, sometimes that’s questionable, but it’s generally understood that all those things are my responsibility. And you what? My potential is my responsibility now too!

Basically, I needed teachers, parents, and coaches to pump me up, and talk about my potential because my tiny adolescent brain, which couldn’t see beyond my next meal, needed help. It doesn’t need that help anymore. I can consider my future, and my potential, and accomplishing the things I want to accomplish, all on my own now. So, when I say that no one cares about my potential anymore, the problem isn’t everyone else. It’s actually me. If no one cares about my potential anymore, it’s because I don’t care about my potential anymore.

When this epiphany hit, I was relieved. Alright, I wasn’t relieved. Actually, I was temporarily bummed out some more. I thought, “Great, another thing I failed at. Way to mess up again, bozo!” But I quickly snapped out of it. Why? Because if I’m the answer to my problem, the problem is within my control to solve. While it’s never pleasant to figure out you’ve had a blind spot, it’s actually a relief to discover that you were the cause of that blindspot. After all, the only thing you have absolute control over is yourself. Which means if you are your problem, you have the power to change it.

So, that’s what I need to do. I need to change my outlook. I need to remember all that potential I heard about before having kids. I need to remember that my life is not over. I haven’t achieved all I set out to achieve, or grown in all the ways I need to grow. I still have what it takes to lead, enact change, and spur progress. My mark can still be made. My impact can still be felt. And you know what else? Ensuring that my kids lead, enact change, spur progress, and leave their mark depends on it.

Without living it, myself, I can’t show them how to do it themselves. If I feel defeated, or like my time has past, or like I need to fully step aside and not grow, not enrich, and not achieve things for myself, how will they ever learn to do the same? If I put my life on hold, that’s all they’ll see. If I don’t think in terms of my potential, and pursuing the realization of that potential, they’ll never realize they’re own. I must, for the sake of my kids, continue doing whatever I need to do to live the fullest version of myself possible.

I know a lot of parents feel like they need to put themselves second, always, and forever more, to their kids. But perhaps the paradox is that in doing so, we doom ourselves and our kids to finishing second our own lives. Our respective potentials get the best of us. We need to demonstrate for our kids how to aspire, pursue, and achieve. Sure, sometimes we’ll stumble and fall. When that happens they need to see how to pick themselves up too.

It’s not a selfish thing, to think about what’s next for me, as a parent, and as a person. We were all pretty cool before we had kids. To achieve all they can become, our kids need to see that side too. It can get tough. Of course, there will be times when we prioritize the needs of our spouse, or our children before our own. That’s called being a decent human being (something else our kids need to see in action). But we can’t be so quick to dismiss our own potential the second a youngster hits the scene. This is something I have to work on, but it’s doable.

Maybe it looks like reading time. Maybe it means taking music, or foreign language, or dance lessons as a family. Maybe it’s a book club, or having a weekly TED Talk night. I suppose it can look a lot of different ways, and will likely change over time. But one thing is for sure: If I want my kids to flourish as individuals, I need to model that process for them by continuing to do the same.

Alright. Existential crisis averted. For now. Until next time!