Pursuing a Goal Bigger Than You’re Used To
The Weary Heart #41
There are moments in life when you realise tat nothing is technically wrong, yet something inside you feels unsettled. You are doing well by most measures. You are functioning and contributing. You are grateful. And still, there is a discomfort that not only bothers you, but refuses to leave.
It’s not big enough to cause you panic, but persistent enough to follow you into your prayers, your drives home, your late nights scrolling when you should already be resting.
I have come to recognise that feeling.
It is not dissatisfaction in the obvious sense. Not ingratitude either. It is something more subtle and harder to describe. It’s the realisation that the goals you are pursuing may no longer match the person you are slowly becoming. Because we all evolve; in different ways and phases.
Let me ask you something, and take your time with it.
Have you ever reached a goal you once prayed for, only to discover that it did not stretch you in the way you thought it would?
Have you ever achieved something that others admired, but privately felt that you were still holding something back? That there could be more?
Many of us assume that growth always feels exhilarating with consecutive peaks in the journey. In reality, growth often begins with unease. A feeling as if you are circling the same roads and streets in life, even though you are capable of going further.
Sometimes it’s almost as if you are subconsciously managing your potential instead of honouring it by launching it higher into the hemisphere.
What makes this especially difficult is that staying where you are often looks sensible. Safe. Responsible. I mean after all, there are bills to pay, people to care for, and roles to fulfil. How could you argue against that?
Also, do you know how easy it is to convince yourself that aiming higher would be reckless and selfish. Practically effortless.
Why We Hesitate to Aim Higher
Psychologists speak about something called identity-based limitation.
In simple terms, we tend to pursue goals that are consistent with how we see ourselves, and quietly avoid those that would require us to become someone unfamiliar.
This explains why many people almost never fail extravagantly, in a big way. Instead, they plateau, and quietly fade - sometimes into irrelevance.
So on the outside, everyone can see that they work hard, but only within familiar boundaries. They set goals, but only those that fit neatly into their existing routines, personalities, and self-image. Anything that threatens to disrupt that image is postponed, downsized, or pushed away.
A study published in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology found that people often abandon ambitious goals not because of difficulty, but because success would force them to renegotiate their identity. Achieving more would mean being seen differently, being expected differently, and perhaps holding themselves to a higher standard.
And that’s not always comfortable.
From a spiritual perspective, this hesitation runs even deeper. Bigger goals carry bigger amanah (responsibility). More influence, more impact, more accountability.
The nafs is not afraid of effort as much as it is afraid of accountability.
So we stay where things feel manageable.
We tell ourselves that contentment (qana’ah) means not wanting more, even if it means growth. That humility (tawadhu’) means staying small. That sincerity (ikhlas) requires shrinking our aspirations.
But contentment is not the same as stagnation. And humility does not mean hiding what Allah has placed within you.
A Personal Reckoning
There was a season in my life when everything appeared stable. Work was ongoing. People respected what I did. Opportunities kept coming. On paper, it looked like momentum.
Internally, however, I felt strangely constrained.
I was busy, but not deeply challenged. Productive, but not fully engaged. I had unknowingly designed a life that allowed me to remain competent without being stretched. I could function well without confronting deeper fears, deeper discipline, or deeper trust in Allah.
One evening, after a long day, I sat alone and asked myself a question that changed everything: If nothing changes from here on, would I be at peace with that?
The answer unsettled me, it was “no”.
Not because I was ungrateful, but because I knew I was capable of more growth than I was allowing myself. The hardest part was admitting that my hesitation had less to do with circumstances, and more to do with comfort and familiarity.
A larger goal would demand more structure from me (which I know isn’t my greatest strength). More consistency. More emotional regulation. More difficult conversations. More surrender of habits that once soothed me but no longer served me.
Most confronting of all, it would demand a different relationship with Allah. Not one of inherited faith or public words, but one of true reliance (tawakkul). The kind that strips you of certainty and forces you to trust Him completely.
That is when it became clear to me: pursuing a goal bigger than you are used to is not primarily about effort. It is about identity.
The Hidden Cost of Staying Small
We often speak about the risk of failure, but rarely about the cost of underreaching.
Research from long-term studies on life satisfaction, including the well-known Harvard Study of Adult Development, shows that one of the most common sources of regret later in life is not failure, but the sense of having played it safe for too long. It is our omissions, not commissions.
People regret the conversations they never had, the paths they never explored, and the contributions they delayed out of fear.
This regret is not felt much throughout life. Mostly we’ll feel numb. But it shows up as restlessness. Like our soul does not feel is aligned. As irritability. As cynicism towards those who dare to grow… A subtle grief for a life that could have been more fully lived.
Spiritually, this regret can become heavier over time. It turns into questions you didn’t expect to ask yourself:
Did I honour what Allah entrusted to me?
Did I grow when I was capable of growth?
Did I choose safety over responsibility?
What Changed When I Committed to More
When I finally stopped negotiating with my own growth, several things became immediately apparent.
First, my time was exposed. I realised how much of it was spent in low-grade distraction. Not haram, nor destructive, but unintentional. Like anaesthesia, time soothed me without building me.
Second, my emotional patterns surfaced. Impatience. Self-doubt. Overthinking. A bit of inner-rage too that has been suppressed. And a subtle dependence on external affirmation and validity. These traits had always been there, but bigger goals brought them into clearer view.
Third, my relationship with Allah deepened in a way I had not experienced before. When the goal became larger than my own capacity, reliance stopped being theoretical. My du’as became more genuine and honest. I found myself admitting my fears instead of masking it with confidence.
Nothing changed overnight. But everything began to align slowly, deliberately, and with greater sincerity.
Five Lessons I Learned Along the Way
There are many things I am still learning, but these five stand out.
Bigger goals reveal what needs refining. When insecurity, ego, or fear surfaces, it’s not a sign that something has gone wrong. Instead, it is often a signal that Allah is preparing you.
Motivation is unreliable in the long term. Systems are kinder. When goals stretch beyond your comfort, you cannot rely on “feeling inspired”. You need routines, boundaries, and rhythms that carry you through fluctuation.
Your environment matters more than you think. Growth cannot survive in shrinking conversations. Be mindful of what you consume, who you confide in, and what you repeatedly tolerate.
Some versions of yourself will need to be left behind. Certain habits, identities, and roles may have served you once in the past, but no longer align with where you are heading. Letting go is a sign of maturity.
Tawakkul becomes real only when risk is real. Trusting Allah when the stakes are low is easy, like making tawakkul that inshaAllah there will be dinner tonight, when you’ve never missed the meal in the last 30 years of your life. True reliance is forged when certainty disappears and obedience remains.
Coming Full Circle
Let me return to where we began.
That uneasiness you feel may not be dissatisfaction. It may be an invitation to relook into your life.
An invitation to grow beyond what you are used to. To honour your capacity. To step into a version of yourself that requires more intention, discipline, and trust in Allah.
So I leave you with this question…
If fear, routine, and self-doubt were no longer dictating your choices, what is the goal you would pursue that feels just beyond your current comfort?
And perhaps more importantly, who would you need to become to carry it well?
Sometimes the next chapter of life does not begin with action. It begins with permission… to believe that you were created for more than survival, and the courage to grow into it… one intentional step at a time.
MW