Sometimes I wonder if it’s possible to care too much.
To believe so strongly in someone’s potential that you find yourself doing the heavy lifting:pitching their products, preparing samples, following up, believing for them when they no longer do.
And then, when everything’s ready, when the opportunity you’ve worked so hard to open finally appears, they step back.
Silence follows. Promises fade. Excuses come quietly.
And you sit there, holding the weight of what could have been.
Lately, this thought lingers more than I’d like to admit;
about how fragile progress can be when it depends on courage, and how fear often wins the conversation.
Not because people don’t want to grow, but because growth asks for something that feels heavier than they expect i.e commitment.
I’ve seen this happen too many times.
A door opens , although not wide, but just enough to let the light in. Still, no one walks through.
The timing isn’t right. The monetary value feels too much. The doubt feels louder than the dream.
It’s easy to say “next time.” But next time rarely looks the same.
Maybe this is the part of leadership that no one talks about.
The quiet heartbreak that comes when you’ve built a bridge and no one crosses it. You learn that your role isn’t to push people forward, but to keep building anyway, even when they don’t see the value yet.
Because that’s what belief really is: doing the work even when it’s unseen.
There’s a kind of loneliness in that, but also a strange peace.
You remind yourself that not every opportunity is meant to be taken, and not every person is ready for what they asked for.
But still, it hurts to watch potential go to waste, knowing how rare it is for the right doors to open at the right time.
Maybe that’s what transformation really means not changing others, but learning to stay steady when they don’t.
And so I remind myself , this is what MyGalore was built for.
Not just to sell products, but to create chances.
To open doors for those who might never reach them otherwise.
Some will walk through, and some won’t. But that doesn’t make the effort meaningless.
It only means that faith has to outlast disappointment.
Because every bridge we build, every pitch, every partnership, every “almost” that didn’t happen still adds to something larger: a movement that believes in possibility.
And maybe one day, those who turned away will find the courage to return.
When they do, I hope the doors are still there waiting, quietly, just like hope does.
