Recently, I came across a question that made me pause mid-scroll: “In what ways are you shortchanging your potential?”
I didn’t breeze past it. I couldn’t. This wasn’t the kind of question that asks for a surface-level answer. It was an invitation to go inward, to get honest, to look beyond the usual excuses I give myself.
So I did something I’ve learned to do when the big questions come: I turned to my journal.
No answers arrived right away. But three prompts slowly surfaced. Three gentle exercises that helped me to explore the hidden places where I might be holding back. What followed was uncomfortable, clarifying, and surprisingly freeing.
I’m sharing them with you in case you’re ready to do the same.
1. The Unwritten Permission Slip
I closed my eyes and imagined a blank permission slip in my hand. No rules. No waiting. Just full access to everything I’m capable of, without having to earn it first.
Then I wrote: You have permission to create without worrying if it’s good enough. You have permission to take up space, to speak your ideas, to show up before you feel “ready.” You have permission to begin. Now. As you are. You have permission to be yourself around your kids. You have permission to rest, to be disliked, to be misunderstood, to not have to explain. You have permission to be cringy, to do things badly, to be unimpressive, to fail, and to go at your own pace.
And then came the harder questions: ‘Who have I been waiting for permission from?’ ‘What have I been putting off because I still don’t feel “qualified”?’
I wrote a list, one I’ll keep just for me, but let me tell you, there’s something about physically writing yourself a permission slip that shifts things. It’s subtle, but it’s powerful. Something softens. Something awakens.
The Half-Filled Jar
Next, I sketched a tall, glass jar, my potential, visualised on paper. I wanted to see it, not just imagine it. So I gave it shape with pencil, then began to fill it in with colour. I used different shades to represent what was already there: green for the ways I’ve grown, yellow for the risks I’ve taken, blue for the moments I stretched beyond what felt comfortable.
As I looked at it, I realised, this jar wasn’t empty. But it wasn’t full either. There was still space. Still more it could hold.
Seeing it drawn out in front of me made it real. So I asked: ‘What’s missing? What would it take to fill this completely?’
And here’s what surprised me: It wasn’t more talent. It wasn’t more time or experience. It was trust. It was the willingness to act before I felt completely safe. To stop waiting for the perfect moment and take the next step now.
I wrote down one small thing I could do that day. Nothing grand. Just a tiny shift that moved me forward. And then I did it.
The Unlived Parallel Life
This was the one that hit deepest. I imagined her, the version of me who had fully stepped into her potential. The one who didn’t shrink, didn’t second-guess, didn’t hold back. She sat across from me, confident, calm, and whole.
I asked her: ‘How did you become who you are?’
And I wrote down what she said: I am you who didn’t give up. The one who kept choosing her heart, even when it was hard. I am the you who stayed close to what felt true. Who kept creating, kept expressing, kept showing up with honesty, even when you doubted.
After working through these prompts, the answer to that original question became clear: I shortchange my potential every time I wait for permission instead of giving it to myself. Every time I believe I’m not ready, instead of remembering that growth happens through action. Every time I ignore my inner voice in favour of outside approval.
If this stirred something in you, I invite you to sit with the same question. Use the prompts. Go gently. Be honest. And most importantly, do something with the answers.
It’s too important to leave unlived.