Chained by Mediocrity: The Frustrations of a Gifted Mind

Why speed, vision, and trust are casualties in a world stuck in first gear.

Image by Piet van de Wiel from Pixabay

Frustration as Propulsion: About Ten Horses and a Strong Elastic Band

Sometimes it feels like I want to move forward, but ten horses are pulling me back. Or like I’m pushing against an elastic band that snaps me right back with full force. These are the moments when I feel how my way of thinking—my ability to quickly see connections and move forward—clashes with the world around me.

A world where everything has to be double-checked. Where trust seems to be a scarce commodity. Where processes drag endlessly, simply because people cannot handle speed and change.

Time and again, I see it: people think linearly. Step by step. They operate according to predictable logic. The idea that you can move in circles, follow multiple paths at once, or think outside conventional frameworks seems inconceivable to many. The result? Delay. Frustration.

It’s as if my drive to move forward is almost seen as a threat. Where I see opportunities, others see risks. Where I see the need for speed, they see chaos. And where I create space for creativity and innovation, they bring everything to a halt with meetings, alignment, and making ‘absolutely sure it’s right.’

What they don’t understand is that standing still isn’t safer. Standing still is risky. Standing still is a waste of time, energy, and potential.

I ask myself: where has trust gone? Trust that there are people who think ahead, who can switch gears faster, who can assess and weigh risks without endlessly deliberating? Where is the belief that there are other ways—circular ways—that can be just as effective as the linear processes so many hold dear?

My frustration is a symptom. It’s not just a complaint to vent my feelings. It’s a sign that we’re missing something fundamental in how we work together and make decisions. What if we were to give each other more trust? What if we acted more quickly when needed, and only reflected afterward on what we could learn?

Perhaps my biggest frustration isn’t the slowness of others but the lack of belief in what’s possible.

And yet—ironically—this frustration is also my fuel. It drives me forward, no matter how hard the horses pull. It keeps me sharp, no matter how far the elastic band snaps back.

My message to those horses? To that elastic band?

I’m not stopping.

To you, the reader: thank you for taking the time to step into my world, to reflect on these frustrations, and perhaps even recognize a piece of yourself in this story. Let’s keep challenging the status quo—together.

Best,
Ron