Stop Funding Potential
The same instinct that made me a strong investor almost cost me in my personal life. Here’s the framework I use now to tell the difference between real value and expensive potential.
For a long time, I thought one of my strengths was seeing potential. Early in my career in finance, first evaluating debt at Goldman and the World Bank, and later looking at venture and growth-stage companies, that instinct was rewarded. You learn to spot patterns, recognize upside, and believe in something before it’s fully formed. In that world, conviction about the future is the whole job.
But somewhere along the way, that way of thinking stopped being just professional. It became personal.
When Potential Stops Being an Asset
I remember one time I was seeing someone and realized I was spending more time defending them to the people I trust than actually enjoying being with them. I kept explaining away the inconsistency - why they kept canceling, why their actions didn’t match their words, why they were “just busy.” Mid-sentence in a conversation with a close friend, I caught myself and realized I was investing in who I believed they could become instead of paying attention to who they consistently were.
It was clear to me in that moment that I had started approaching parts of my life, especially relationships, the same way I’d approach a deal. I could always see the version of things that worked, even when that version wasn’t consistently showing up. And for a while, that felt like optimism. It felt like having vision.
The more I invested in potential, the more I was asked to overlook what was actually happening in the present. Inconsistency became easier to explain away. What I had framed as belief was, in some cases, just a reluctance to accept what was already clear. The shift started with a question I know well from investing but had never turned inward: where does real value actually come from?
The Difference Between Possibility and Proof
In investing, there’s a meaningful difference between betting on what something could become versus recognizing what’s already working and scaling it.
Early-stage venture capital is built on possibility. You’re backing a founder, a narrative, a handful of data points, and a lot of conviction. That model has built some of the most important companies in the world. But it also means you’re constantly navigating the line between signal and noise.
Private equity operates differently. By the time PE gets involved, there’s real traction. There are patterns you can point to and say: this is working. The job isn’t to imagine the future; it’s to recognize what’s already happening and double down.
I had been running my personal life like a venture investor, constantly funding potential, giving things more runway, waiting for the breakout moment. What I should have been doing was thinking more like a PE investor: paying attention to what was already proving itself, consistently, without needing me to fill in the gaps.
[POLL] Be honest: where are you still over-investing in potential?
A relationship I keep giving more chances
A career path I’m staying on out of hope, not evidence
A habit or routine that isn’t actually working
A version of myself I keep waiting to become
Choosing What Actually Shows Up
Once I started looking for consistency instead of possibility, three things changed:
First, I pay far more attention to repeat behavior than one-off moments. Anyone can show up once. A product can spike. A person can surprise you. But what happens consistently is usually the truth.
Second, I’ve become much more careful about over-investing in potential. It’s seductive because it feels like belief, like vision. But in practice, it often just delays a harder decision. Not everything deserves more time, more energy, or another chance.
Third, I try to double down on what already has momentum. The best outcomes I’ve had—whether in building Apothékary or in my own life—have come from recognizing something that was quietly working and leaning into it, even when it didn’t feel like the most exciting option on paper.
This isn’t about becoming cynical or closing yourself off to possibility. Growth is real. People change. Things evolve. But I think we underestimate how much of a life is built not on what could happen, but on what already is.
The relationships that last aren’t usually the ones that require the most imagination. They’re the ones where something was steady from the beginning. The paths that unfold tend to have early signals, even if they’re quiet. The things that compound don’t need constant justification; they demonstrate their value over time. Potential can be incredibly expensive when it isn’t backed by anything consistent. It asks for patience, energy, and belief, often without giving much in return.
Your life is a portfolio, whether you think of it that way or not. And over time, the difference isn’t who sees the most opportunities. It’s who learns to allocate clearly, honestly, and without getting distracted by the story.
Because when something is truly right, it doesn’t just exist as an idea.
It shows up. It holds. It repeats.
And those are the things that actually grow.
What’s a “position” you held onto for too long, in your career, a relationship, or a belief about yourself? What finally made you let go?
Potential is seductive because it lets investors feel early. Proof is quieter. In companies and people, the cost usually appears after the second cheque, when the story still has not become behaviour.