TL;DR
Calibrating your ambition is a skill. Overshooting can lead to burnout; undershooting can mean missed opportunities. The sweet spot lies in setting goals that stretch you and suit your current context. Use tools like assessing your starting point, clarifying your “why,” zooming out on your timeline, and recalibrating with curiosity. You probably won’t get it exactly right—but that’s the point. Calibration is practice, not a one-time decision.
Acknowledgements: Thanks a lot to Kevin Xia for providing valuable structural feedback and my husband, Chris Balderson, for helping me review and publish this post.
Why I wrote this post
Have you or someone you know burnt out after spending a year chasing a dream impact-focused job?
Or maybe you or your friend is someone brilliant—capable of so much—but who seems to be playing it small?
Many of us swing between overambition and underambition. Neither is great. Overshooting can lead to burnout and disappointment. Undershooting means missing opportunities or never realizing your full potential.
What inspired this post was a line from Rika Gabriel’s recent post about Adversity Quotient:
“When pursuing an ideal career path, it's easy to fixate on what should be possible rather than what actually is.”
It made me think about whether it’s possible to set realistic yet stretching goals for ourselves considering all of us have different starting points and different resources. If we can calibrate our ambition—set goals that are both grounded and expansive—we’re more likely to make progress we’re proud of and stay sane doing it. In this post, I’ve told some of my stories and provided some tools that worked for me.
My story
Overshooting
Back in my early twenties, I made a document called “The Five-Year Dream”. Inspired by Silicon Valley entrepreneurs and self-help books, it had everything: running my own business, passive income streams, being together with my partner without visa restrictions, international travel, a fridge full of raw vegan food (I was into that at the time), and a house in the countryside. I even wrote down that I wanted $100 million in the bank—because why not?
It was bold, imaginative—and completely out of step with the reality I was living in.
I was living in Belarus with almost no money. I hadn’t finished my degree (from a university that didn’t offer networks, mentors, or pathways into impact-focused work), had no job, no community of people pursuing similar goals (I hadn’t even heard of EA or start-up communities). I wasn’t vegan or even vegetarian (it was hard to be in Belarus), and saw my long-distance boyfriend only twice a year. My passport severely limited my ability to travel (no visa-free access to the EU, UK, USA) — or even be with my partner for more than a few weeks at a time.
A few years in, I felt disappointed that I hadn’t brought my vision to life. I thought maybe I’d chosen the wrong strategy or hadn’t worked hard enough, maybe I was just not good enough. But the truth was, I set my goal using examples of people who had very different backgrounds and stories to mine. My starting point—my resources, network, energy, support, and confidence—just weren’t there yet to meet that goal. That dream and my timeline weren’t calibrated to my reality.
Over ten years on, I’m here writing this. I have a strong network, a stable family life, more experience, a passport that lets me travel almost anywhere, and I run an organization I love.
My life has far more meaning now—not because I hit some arbitrary target, but because I’ve dedicated it to helping solve some of the world’s biggest problems, not just accumulating wealth. It’s not exactly what I envisioned back then—but in many ways, it’s better.
Undershooting
Other times, I’ve done the opposite—held myself back out of fear, fatigue, lack of context or self-doubt. Often, this took the form of prioritizing cost savings, avoiding asking for help or not applying for an opportunity.
Here are just a few examples:
- At high school, I didn’t apply for an opportunity to get a scholarship to study abroad, because I was convinced I wouldn’t get it. I later learned of various people with similar high school performance who had gotten such a scholarship.
- I almost didn’t apply for my first movement job at Veganuary because it seemed like a lot of responsibility, required travel, and I didn’t feel ready—even though it was exactly the kind of job I wanted. If it weren’t for a friend encouraging me to go for it because she believed it was a great fit, I probably wouldn’t have applied. But I did—and got the job, out of more than 300 applicants.
- I didn’t apply to one of the early AIM charity incubation cohorts because I didn’t see myself as someone who could start a charity. Looking back, I might have had a shot—and even applying would have helped me take the idea seriously. I ended up starting my own charity—Hive—a little later, without the support of an incubator. It was harder, but it turns out I was ready after all.
- I didn’t follow up with a funder who said they’d support my project (Hive) because I didn’t really believe it would happen. They ended up funding Hive 1.5 years later—and I learned that when this funder reaches out, they usually follow through. If I’d followed up, I likely would have secured the funding much earlier and made more progress.
- I skipped asking a respected speaker for a 1:1 at a conference because I didn’t think I was “important enough.” I later learned that this speaker was a fan of our work and was happy to chat with me.
- I nearly didn’t apply to my first EAG because I wasn’t sure if the conference would be interested in someone like me—and I didn’t yet understand how powerful networking could be for my career. If it weren’t for my manager at Observatorio de Bienestar Animal (where I was volunteering) encouraging me—twice—I probably wouldn’t have applied. When I finally did, EAG sponsored my travel, and the conference turned out to be a turning point. I met my first Hive co-founder there and got plugged into the EA entrepreneurial community—both of which shaped the path I’m on today.
- I didn't hire an executive coach when I clearly could have benefitted from it—because I wanted to save money. Now that I have an executive coach, I regret not having hired them earlier as it would have helped me to deal with challenges easier and probably make more impact.
It’s painful to think about the opportunities I missed because of undershooting—and humbling to realize how close I came to missing some of the most influential opportunities in my life so far.
Why we get ambition wrong (in both directions)
We often get ambition wrong because we skip a key set of questions:
What’s realistic for me, right now, in this particular area of my life—and what could be realistic if I made some changes? What’s the right timeline for me to get to my goal?
Instead, we default to advice like:
- “Shoot for the stars.”
- “Be patient.”
Both can be true—sometimes in the same week. And that’s where the confusion begins.
Over the years, I’ve found myself giving both types of advice depending on who I’m talking to and when. But the truth is, most of us aren't taught how to make that judgement for ourselves.
Calibrating your ambition is a real skill—one that’s rarely taught.
We’re told to “think big” or “be realistic,” but not how to figure out what’s actually the right size for us, given our current resources, energy, and context.
I also realised that you can usually only be ambitious in one or two areas of your life because of the focus it requires, while other areas have to be on the back burner.
So I’ve started treating calibration like any other leadership skill: something to reflect on, track, and improve over time.
And that’s what the rest of this post is about:
- Where dreaming big meets being honest about your starting point
- Figuring out why you set the goal for yourself and deciding whether it’s the right goal for you
- Determining an appropriate timeline for your goal
- Creating a habit of calibrating your goals based on the ongoing data
You can’t set realistic goals if you don’t know your starting point. Here are a few prompts I use:
- Support – Do I have the people, tools, or financial stability to pull this off? [After reading this post, @Brad West🔸 suggested we also include this reflection: What resources could the community provide to make this realistic for me?]
- Environment – How will my background, experience, knowledge and network affect how successful I will be at this goal?
- Time – How many focused hours do I really have each week?
- Energy – What gives me energy vs. drains me? How will this affect my goal?
- Constraints – What constraints are there, which ones I can control and which ones are beyond my control? Burnout, health, caregiving, financial pressure, visa limits—none of these are minor. They shape what’s possible.
- Trade-offs and opportunity cost – What will I have to give up to pursue this goal (free time, money, energy, time with friends and family, other opportunities)? Am I happy to give it up, and for how long?
A big mistake is comparing your goals to those of people you think are your peers—without acknowledging they may have radically different resources.
“A single mum became a self-made billionaire by growing her business from zero in three years” might be a headline—but it’s not a blueprint.
For example, you might read about someone landing a competitive impact-focused job right out of university—without realizing they were friends with the founder, or they volunteered for the organization before while at college.
As @Rika Gabriel said in her post:
“Those idealized paths often require circumstances you don’t have—whether personal (e.g. visa status, financial safety net) or external (e.g. your dream org hiring, or a stable funding landscape).”
I think comparison can be useful—if you treat it as inspiration rather than a benchmark. Let it show you what’s possible for you, not what’s wrong with you. One of the most unproductive things you can fall into here is being upset about where you are, just because someone else seems further ahead.
It's also important to acknowledge that these systemic differences are deeply unfair. Not everyone starts from the same place—and privilege shapes access, timing, and opportunity in ways that are often invisible. Personally, I’ve found that noticing this unfairness has actually helped me support others like me.
When I catch myself in a comparison spiral, I try to pause and remind myself of my own starting point—what resources I had when I set my goal. I also remind myself that time spent comparing and feeling sorry for myself is time I could instead be using to move closer to my goal.
For some people, it can be pretty hard to get out of the comparison trap, especially if that’s your default. In this case, it might be better to skip comparison entirely when setting goals and rely on other tools instead.
Sometimes our goals aren’t wrong—they’re just not ours.
I’ve chased things because they looked impressive, or because someone I admired was doing them. But when I asked:
If I got this… would it actually make my life better?
…the answer wasn’t always yes.
Now I check:
- Is this goal rooted in joy, impact, or comparison?
- Would achieving it give me more freedom or alignment—or just look good on my CV/for my family/friends?
- Is there another path to the same end?
- Is the emotional/resource cost worth it?
A big idea that’s not realistic this year might still be realistic in three. Some of the best decisions I’ve made—like starting Hive—came from letting go of a fixed timeline and following the winding path.
When I first came up with the idea for Hive, I shared my project plan with a few people and applied for funding. I was rejected. Feeling uncertain, I set up a call with then–Executive Director of Farmed Animal Funders, Miccaela Saccoccio. She told me something simple but grounding: “Your timeline for getting funding is probably about a year.”
That one sentence helped me recalibrate. It saved me from months of self-doubt and from dipping further into my savings than I needed to. Sometimes it’s not the goal that needs changing—it’s our expectations about how quickly it will happen.
This is especially true for job seekers. I’ve seen people pour themselves into EA job searches for six months, then burn out. What if they zoomed out and made a three-year plan instead? Took a decent non-EA job in the meantime and only applied for roles that were an exceptional fit?
Something you can ask yourself is:
“What’s the right size for this idea right now?”
Starting small doesn’t make your dream small. It gives it scaffolding.
One of my favourite quotes is:
"People overestimate what they can achieve in one year and underestimate what they can achieve in ten".
Even with all the tools in the world, you’ll rarely know for sure what the “right” level of ambition is until you try. That’s why the most helpful mindset I’ve found is curiosity:
What happens if I aim a little higher—or simplify for now? What am I learning from what didn’t work? What data am I collecting about what’s too much or not enough?
One of the biggest mistakes I see is not spending enough time on this step.
People set a bold goal, hit a few rejections or setbacks, and assume the plan isn’t working—when actually, the timeline just needs to be longer, or the approach needs refining. Calibration is a process, not a verdict.
Ambition isn’t a fixed destination. It’s a dialogue—with your circumstances, your values, your energy, and your future self.
Is overshooting better than undershooting? Often, yes—especially when done mindfully.
Overshooting means setting a goal that might be slightly beyond what feels realistic. If it turns out too ambitious, you can usually recalibrate by adjusting expectations or support—as long as you catch it early enough. The real danger comes from overshooting without intention, which can lead to burnout, giving up, or reputational risk if you fail spectacularly.
Undershooting comes with its own quiet dangers: stagnation, regret, and the long-term opportunity costs of never seeing what you're capable of. Playing small can feel safe—but it can also be a way of hiding.
The hardest part of undershooting, for me, is that it’s counterfactual and uncertain. You often never find out what would have happened if you’d gone for the opportunity—which makes it harder to learn from, and easier to rationalize away. It’s also easy to sweep under the rug and forget about it entirely, because it’s not salient in your brain—it never happened.
“Am I dreaming small because I’m being wise—or because I’m scared?”
That’s the question I try to ask myself regularly. If the question sparks something, I’ll journal it (often with ChatGPT’s help). Sometimes the answer is “Not yet.” Other times it’s “You’re more ready than you think.”
To stretch your vision, try:
- Take your goal and ask: What’s one size bigger?
- Imagine your future self—what would they tell you to try?
- Ask: What limiting beliefs might be holding me back?
- Talk to a coach or a peer who helps you zoom out.
Intentional overshooting isn’t about delusion—it’s about testing your edges. Dreaming bigger with eyes open often leads to surprising clarity. And if you overshoot a bit? That’s data. Use it. Adjust. Keep going.
I’m not currently considering a move, but if I were thinking about taking a significantly bigger leadership role—say, running a 20-person charity instead of the 6-person one I lead now—here’s how I’d approach it using the tools in this post.
If I applied for a role leading a 50-person organisation, that would be serious overshooting—and probably not a leap I’d take just yet. But applying to lead a 20-person org? That would still be overshooting, but more within reach—especially since I’ve previously worked in organisations of that size. (Tool 5: When in Doubt, Overshoot Mindfully)
If I chose to pursue it, I’d:
- Reflect on my current starting point—Do I have the support, energy, and time to step into a larger role right now? What constraints am I working with?
(Tool 1: The “Where Am I Really?” Inventory)- My answer: Probably not right now. I already feel stretched enough in my role, and increasing the intensity would increase the likelihood of burnout.
- Ask why I want this role. Is it coming from a place of alignment and impact—or is it mostly about proving something or keeping up with others?
(Tool 2: The “Why Do I Want This?” Filter)- My answer: I’m quite happy in my current role. Hive may be a small non-profit, but we make a lot of impact, and I’m uniquely positioned to lead Hive. Taking a bigger role may seem fancier, but it is not in line with my values.
- Zoom out on the timeline. Maybe I don’t have to take the leap this year. What might a 2- or 3-year path into a larger leadership role look like instead?
(Tool 3: Zooming Out on Your Timeline)- My answer: I think this can be realistic in a few years once I’ve got my current role down pat, and if the right opportunity comes along. Maybe Hive itself will grow to a similar size, then the transition would be even easier!
- Stay open to recalibration. I’d check in regularly with how I’m doing: Do I still have capacity for this? Am I learning and growing—or just pushing too hard?
(Tool 4: Keep Calibrating with Curiosity)- If I were to go for a role like this anyway, I would schedule check-ins every month or so to see how I’m doing. Creating early stopping points is key.
- An alternative check-in would be reevaluating my decision not to pursue the role in a year or so.
- And finally, go for it—with eyes open. I’d prepare as much as I can, ask for mentorship, and expect it to feel difficult at the beginning. I’d be mindful that I’m overshooting—and be okay with that.
(Tool 5: When in Doubt, Overshoot Mindfully)- My answer: If we went for it, I’d definitely spend quite a lot of time making sure I have done everything in my power to ensure success.
This kind of stretch can be uncomfortable—but it’s also where the most meaningful growth can happen, especially if you go in with a plan, not just a dream.
How to manage the day-to-day
Even when your goals are well calibrated, reality is messy.
Some days, I feel like I’m building something world-changing. Other days, I’m just replying to emails and hoping I didn’t forget anything important.
A few things that help:
- Celebrate momentum, not just milestones.
- Build in rest like it’s part of the job (because it is). Make sure your efforts are sustainable over the long term.
- Learn the difference between a bad day and a bad direction.
- Use disappointment as data. Was the goal too big, the timing off, or something else?
- Talk to people. Feedback from trusted peers helps you re-calibrate in real time.
One thing to be mindful of here: not all advice is created equal. Sometimes you’ll get feedback from people who don’t fully understand your context or constraints. Their advice might unintentionally push you toward a goal that’s too ambitious—or not ambitious enough. That’s why it’s important to develop your own judgment over time, and when the stakes are high, ask more than one person you trust.
Conclusion
Ambition isn’t something you set once and forget. It’s a feedback loop.
You start with a best guess—based on your current capacity, context, and constraints—and then learn by doing. Some goals will turn out to be too much, others too little. Both give you useful data.
What matters isn’t getting it right on the first try—it’s building a system to notice when you’re off track and course-correct with intention.
Over time, calibration becomes a strategic habit. One that helps you stretch when it matters, pause when you need to, and stay in conversation with your goals—not just chase them blindly.
I'd love to hear from you
Have you ever gone for something and realized it wasn’t realistic for you?
Or held yourself back and later wished you hadn’t?
How do you decide when to zoom in—and when to think bigger?
Reply in the comments or hit reply to this email—I’d love to hear your thoughts.
Sofia, love this framework—and love what you're doing with Hive!
Your post sparked a thought: Many constraints you mention (funding, visa support, networks) are actually transferable within EA. Yet we optimize mostly at the "cause area → org" level, not "whose potential is trapped by a solvable constraint?"
What if your calibration tools included asking: "What resources could the community provide to make this realistic for me?" Things like:
I suspect many high-impact projects never happen because founders correctly identify they lack resource X, without realizing it's sitting idle elsewhere in the community. Your framework helps people see constraints clearly—the next step might be making those constraints more permeable.
Hi Brad, thanks a lot for reading and your comment. This is such a thoughtful reflection, and I’m really glad you brought it up.
I love the idea of making constraints more permeable within the community. Your examples—like micro-grants (@Cameron King had this idea!), shared ops talent, and treating introductions as infrastructure—really sharpen it. This is exactly why I appreciate meta-orgs like CEA and Magnify Mentoring: they don’t just help with skill-building, they help you see which obstacles can be solved with community support. Humbly bringing up Hive, as this is exactly what we are trying to do: to democratise access to the same ways of creating impactful connections and outcomes.
I remember a pivotal moment with my Magnify mentor who asked, “Sofia, why won’t you start a charity? Our community can help you.” Before that, I hadn’t even considered myself a strong candidate to do so, partly because I didn't feel like I had the skills to make it happen, and never thought that our community can provide at least some of the help I'd need.
That said, I also think some constraints—especially structural or geopolitical ones—are harder to overcome. For example, I wanted to attend AVA Summit in the US in 2023 (where I knew it could really boost my chances of funding and connection-building). I had nearly 7 months’ notice, but I still couldn’t get a visa with my Belarusian passport.
That’s one reason I’m especially excited about more online opportunities and community-building. They’re not only more affordable—they’re also much more accessible for people in LMICs and others facing visa or financial barriers. We often have calls with new founders or impactful folks from LMICs and try to give advice on resources based on their challenges.
I love the idea of adding a prompt like: “What constraint are you treating as fixed—but might actually be movable with the right support?” That ties the calibration mindset with collective action. I might add this to the post—thank you again for this insight!