#1 ·
I’ve been sitting here for the last hour staring at my resume, and for the first time in my life, I’m actually feeling a bit of an existential crisis about it. I’ve spent most of my adult life trying to be a "versatile" person. You know the type—the person who can jump into almost any situation, pick up a new software tool in a weekend, or hold a decent conversation about a dozen different topics. I always thought that being a generalist was a strength. I thought it meant I was adaptable, resilient, and ready for anything the modern economy threw at me.
But lately, I’ve been feeling this crushing sense of mediocrity. It’s like I’ve spent years spreading myself so thin that I’ve effectively become a "surface-level" person in every single category. I can do a little bit of this, a little bit of that, and a little bit of everything else, but if you asked me to actually *excel* at something—to be the person people call when they need the absolute gold standard—I honestly don't know if I could do it.
It’s a weird, hollow feeling. There’s this societal pressure to "find your niche" or "specialize," but we’re also constantly told that the world is changing too fast to rely on a single skill set. So, we try to do both. We try to be deep, but we also try to be wide. And in the end, I feel like I’m just hovering in this middle ground where I’m "fine" at everything but "great" at nothing. It feels like I'm just white noise in a world that rewards high-definition expertise.
I look at people in my field—or even just people I follow online—and there’s this intense, almost intimidating level of mastery. They have these specific, granular obsessions. They know the history, the mechanics, and the nuances of their craft down to the molecular level. When I see that, I don't just feel envious; I feel a sense of profound inadequacy. It makes me wonder if I've wasted my time being "well-rounded" when I should have been building a foundation for something substantial.
Is it even possible to be happy being "just okay" at a lot of things? I mean, there's a certain freedom in being a generalist, right? You aren't trapped in a silo. You can pivot when an industry dies or a technology becomes obsolete. But that freedom feels increasingly like a lack of purpose. It’s hard to feel like you’re contributing something meaningful to the world when your contribution is just "general assistance" or "basic competency."
I also wonder about the psychological toll of this. There’s a specific kind of loneliness that comes with being a generalist. You don't quite fit into the "expert" circles because you don't have the depth to keep up with the jargon or the deep-dive debates, but you also don't quite fit into the "hobbyist" circles because you don't have that singular, driving passion. You’re just... there. Floating in the middle.
I’ve started questioning if I’ve actually developed any real character, or if I’ve just developed a collection of surface-level traits. Does true fulfillment come from the pursuit of excellence in a single domain, or is there a hidden value in being the person who can bridge the gaps between different worlds? I'm starting to worry that by trying to be everything to everyone, I've ended up being nothing to myself.
Has anyone else dealt with this? Do you feel like your "versatility" is actually just a lack of direction, or have you found a way to make being a generalist feel like a legitimate identity rather than a deficiency?
But lately, I’ve been feeling this crushing sense of mediocrity. It’s like I’ve spent years spreading myself so thin that I’ve effectively become a "surface-level" person in every single category. I can do a little bit of this, a little bit of that, and a little bit of everything else, but if you asked me to actually *excel* at something—to be the person people call when they need the absolute gold standard—I honestly don't know if I could do it.
It’s a weird, hollow feeling. There’s this societal pressure to "find your niche" or "specialize," but we’re also constantly told that the world is changing too fast to rely on a single skill set. So, we try to do both. We try to be deep, but we also try to be wide. And in the end, I feel like I’m just hovering in this middle ground where I’m "fine" at everything but "great" at nothing. It feels like I'm just white noise in a world that rewards high-definition expertise.
I look at people in my field—or even just people I follow online—and there’s this intense, almost intimidating level of mastery. They have these specific, granular obsessions. They know the history, the mechanics, and the nuances of their craft down to the molecular level. When I see that, I don't just feel envious; I feel a sense of profound inadequacy. It makes me wonder if I've wasted my time being "well-rounded" when I should have been building a foundation for something substantial.
Is it even possible to be happy being "just okay" at a lot of things? I mean, there's a certain freedom in being a generalist, right? You aren't trapped in a silo. You can pivot when an industry dies or a technology becomes obsolete. But that freedom feels increasingly like a lack of purpose. It’s hard to feel like you’re contributing something meaningful to the world when your contribution is just "general assistance" or "basic competency."
I also wonder about the psychological toll of this. There’s a specific kind of loneliness that comes with being a generalist. You don't quite fit into the "expert" circles because you don't have the depth to keep up with the jargon or the deep-dive debates, but you also don't quite fit into the "hobbyist" circles because you don't have that singular, driving passion. You’re just... there. Floating in the middle.
I’ve started questioning if I’ve actually developed any real character, or if I’ve just developed a collection of surface-level traits. Does true fulfillment come from the pursuit of excellence in a single domain, or is there a hidden value in being the person who can bridge the gaps between different worlds? I'm starting to worry that by trying to be everything to everyone, I've ended up being nothing to myself.
Has anyone else dealt with this? Do you feel like your "versatility" is actually just a lack of direction, or have you found a way to make being a generalist feel like a legitimate identity rather than a deficiency?