I spend a fair bit of my time thinking about—and trying to live—the idea of a growth mindset.
In my work, it shows up everywhere. If someone doesn’t believe they can grow, they usually don’t. Or at the very least, they don’t grow at the pace of their potential. On the other hand, those who do believe it tend to move differently. They stretch. They take feedback. They evolve. They never really “arrive”—because they’re always becoming.
There’s an entire science dedicated to understanding potential—how to define it, measure it, and unlock it. But one question always seems to sit underneath all of it:
Potential… for what?
Organizations struggle to define it.
And if I’m being honest, so do we in our own lives.
Because more often than not, the limits we experience aren’t external—they’re internal. They show up in quiet, almost reasonable ways:
- “I can’t do that job.”
- “I’m comfortable where I am—why push it?”
- “I’m successful enough.”
I’ve had those thoughts. More than I’d like to admit.
And for me, they were often tied to something deeper—how I handled feedback, how I saw myself, and how much I let my past shape my present.
There were seasons in my life where my confidence was low. I didn’t really want honest feedback—I wanted confirmation. I would ask for it, but not really receive it. And when I did hear something hard, I’d deflect it, minimize it, or quietly dismiss it.
Not because I didn’t care… but because I didn’t yet have the capacity to face it.
Looking back, I can see how much that stalled my growth. It’s hard to move forward when you’re not willing to see clearly where you are.
At some point, I came across this idea:
“You can’t fix your future if you keep negotiating with the past.”
That one stuck with me.
Because I realized how often I was doing exactly that.
It didn’t feel like I was stuck—it felt like I was being thoughtful. Careful. Even wise.
But in reality, it sounded more like this:
- “I’ve always been this way…”
- “Last time didn’t work, so this probably won’t either…”
- “Given what happened before, I should probably play it safe…”
- “People like me don’t really do that…”
It felt like logic.
But it was really just old data overruling new possibilities.
I wasn’t learning from the past—I was asking it for permission.
The past is incredibly useful for lessons, but it’s a terrible source for limits.
If every decision we make has to be approved by what already happened, we end up living in a very narrow lane:
- Taking only the risks that feel familiar
- Avoiding anything that once led to discomfort
- Repeating patterns without realizing it
In that way, the past quietly becomes a governor on our lives instead of a teacher.
And sometimes, it goes even deeper than that.
For me, there were moments when “negotiating with the past” wasn’t about events—it was about identity.
I had become loyal to a version of myself that I had already proven.
Letting go of that felt risky.
It meant:
- Losing certainty
- Letting go of a story I had told myself for years
- Risking being seen differently by others
And if I’m being completely honest—it was terrifying.
There is one moment in particular that stands out.
In my 40’s, I made a decision that, at the time, felt like it might quietly end my career.
I changed industries.
I went from high tech to a non-profit Church
I stepped down 3 grade levels from Director to Individual Contributor.
And I didn’t receive a raise for three years.
Everything in me was negotiating with the past.
“This doesn’t make sense.”
“This isn’t how careers are supposed to work.”
“You’ve already built something—why risk it now?”
"Did I just throw away my resume?"
It would have been easy to stay where I was and justify it with logic that sounded responsible.
But underneath that logic was fear.
Not fear of failure—but fear of letting go of the version of myself I had already proven.
And yet, there was something else there too.
A quieter voice. One that didn’t have proof—just possibility.
So I took the step anyway.
And nothing I feared actually happened.
In fact, the opposite did.
That decision didn’t set me back—it set me free.
It stretched me. It reshaped how I saw myself. And over time, it led me to a place where I feel more aligned, more capable, and more fulfilled than I did before.
Not because the path was obvious—
…but because I finally stopped asking my past for permission.
Maybe growth mindset isn’t just about believing you can improve.
Maybe it’s about deciding that your past—while real, valid, and often instructive—doesn’t get to define the boundaries of your future.
I’ve started to think about it this way:
The past gets a vote, not a veto.
I still catch myself slipping back into old negotiations from time to time.
But when I do—and I choose possibility over precedent—that’s when things start moving again.
So here’s the question I’ve been sitting with:
Where in your life might you be asking your past for permission… instead of giving your future a chance?
