#overachiever problems

There is a version of me that hears “You need funding” and understands that as friction.

Then there is my inner child.

She heard “You need funding” and translated it into: “Prove you can.”

She is competent. She is relentless. She has built entire chapters of my life.

“It’s not impossible,” she said. “It’s just expensive.”

Conscious Adult Me: Excuse me?

So I tried to reason with her.

“Let’s be rational. This does not generate revenue. There is no meaningful return. We are very busy. February and March are already staging a coup. We do not need to self-assign an international film acquisition side quest.”

Inner brat, arms crossed:

“Really? No meaningful return? You’re sure about that?”

And that’s when I had to confront the truth.

This is not about cinema.

It is not about cultural contribution.

It is about proximity.

It is about the increasingly plausible possibility of a professional—and perhaps personal—connection with Monica, made more dangerous by ongoing Instagram interactions that blur the line between admiration and access.

This is what ambition looks like when it wears romantic lighting.

In The Mountains We Circle, I wrote about altitude. About oxygen. About choosing which peaks deserve your lungs.

Apparently, my criteria still includes:

International cinema

A legendary actress

Three months

Zero budget

A measurable amount of ego

The most unsettling part?

I believe I could make this happen.

That confidence is not imaginary. It has precedent. It has evidence. It has built things.

Which is why it’s dangerous.

Because self-efficacy without discernment is simply sophisticated self-sabotage.

And now my brain is drafting:

Execution timelines

Sponsorship decks

Funding pathways

Cultural partnerships

Commercial viability

Marketing and promotions

Meanwhile, February and March—the mountains that actually sustain me—are watching quietly.

Capability has never been my problem.

Discernment is harder.

I don’t need another mountain to prove I can climb.

I need to prove I can walk away.

Especially if you still have rent to pay.

God grant me:

the maturity to recognize obsession when it disguises itself as opportunity,

the discipline to redirect this terrifying drive toward work that sustains me,

and the humility to accept that not every open door is for me to enter

It wasn’t a no.

It was an invitation.

When I was growing up good grades were just... expected. If I made anything less than top marks I got punished for it, and my reward for getting good grades was not getting punished. I got a passing, “Good job kid.” delivered in an uninterested tone of voice. So when I graduated second in my class in high school I didn’t feel proud, I felt angry at myself for not being first. When I worked hard and made good grades in my BA I didn’t feel proud because that’s what I was supposed to do. I graduated with a 3.85 GPA (that’s a 1,2 by German standards) and instead of feeling proud I’ve always felt angry at myself that one class kept me from having a 3.9, and if I had just worked a little harder...

So of course I’m relieved I got top marks on my term paper, but at the same time I got no feedback from the professor and I’m sitting here thinking... it was a mistake. This grade got put in and it was a mistake. But also also I’m sitting here thinking of course I wouldn’t get feedback, doing well is an expectation you don’t talk to someone to discuss things if they did well, you only contact people if they’ve done poorly.

And I also don’t feel particularly happy or proud or anything for getting the grade I did even though I know, quite logically, that I fucking earned it with as much work as I put into it. I feel like I’ve kind of written it off in my head the same way doing well was always written off, with an uninterested “So proud of you.” while seeing to something more important.