I came across a LinkedIn post the other day that said, “Keep the gap. It’s the engine.”

And I had two immediate reactions

1. Wow. That’s beautiful.
2. Also, have you met my gap? Because it is not an engine. It is a full-blown emotional support crisis.

The idea is simple, almost offensively so. The distance between who you are and who you could be isn’t a failure. It’s fuel.

Growth lives there. Aspiration lives there. Hope, even, if you squint at it on a good day with decent lighting.

But let’s be honest about what that “gap” actually feels like most of the time.

It doesn’t feel like an engine.
It feels like, it’s a low-grade hum of “not enoughness”. Its like a mental to-do list that regenerates like a hydra. It’s also like a constant sense that everyone else got the instruction manual and you got vibes

And so what do we do?

We try to close the gap. Immediately. Aggressively. Preferably by Tuesday.

We optimize. We self-improve.
We download apps that track our water intake, our steps, our sleep, our mood, our feelings about our feelings.

We turn growth into a performance.

And when the gap doesn’t close fast enough, we don’t get curious, we get cruel.

Why am I not there yet?
What is wrong with me?
How is everyone else doing this better?

Suddenly the gap isn’t an engine.
It’s a courtroom. And we are both the defendant and the prosecution.

But here’s the quiet reframe that hit me like a gentle, slightly judgmental breeze:

The goal was never to eliminate the gap. The goal was to stay in relationship with it.

Because a life with no gap? That’s not enlightenment. That’s stagnation with better branding.

The gap is where you try and fail and try again. It’s where you change your mind. It’s also where you outgrow versions of yourself you once defended passionately. You become someone you couldn’t have planned to be.

But, and this feels important, we’ve confused having a gap with being a problem. They are not the same. You can acknowledge that you want to grow without turning it into feeling that you are currently unacceptable.

You can move toward something
without punishing yourself for not already being there.

You can hold ambition and compassion in the same hand.
(It’s awkward at first. You’ll drop one. Pick it back up.)

Because here’s what I’m noticing lately. A lot of people aren’t struggling because they have a gap. They’re struggling because they’re trying to close it with shame.

And shame is a terrible project manager.

It doesn’t motivate.
It doesn’t sustain.
It just sits there, clipboard in hand, whispering, “Faster. Better. Why aren’t you better?”

Meanwhile, growth, the real kind, is slower. Messier. Less photogenic.

It is about taking one small step and not announcing it. Resting without earning it. Letting yourself be in progress without narrating it as failure

So yes, keep the gap.

But maybe stop standing at the edge of it, screaming at yourself to jump faster.

Maybe sit beside it sometimes.
Look at it with a little curiosity.
A little respect, even.

Because that space between who you are and who you’re becoming?

That’s not where you fall short.

That’s where you live.

And if we’re lucky, it’s also where we learn to be just a little bit kinder to the person doing the becoming.