I’m likely not the instructor you hoped for when you enrolled in the Game of Thrones Leadership Training Program. I’ll be the first to admit I’m no Jon Snow. But what I lack in stature and good looks, I make up for in wisdom. Besides, with only one other client, I’m currently available.

I agree–your world needs help. And maybe you are just the leader it’s looking for. After all, it’s more than a little scary out there. I don’t mean “scary” as in “dragons-flying-around-torching-people” scary, like in my world. Here, a fire-breathing dragon qualifies as a real danger and one with a tangible solution. Sure, it’s not easy to build a giant crossbow, aim it, launch it and hit a dragon, especially one in flight. But still, it’s a solution. People in your world can’t even agree on what’s dangerous (climate change) and what’s not (killer robots). Which means solutions seem miles away.

But back to you. You say you want to fix your world. Worthy goal, that. However, it sounds like you also want people to love you for it. That’s your win/win: The world becomes a better place filled with (cue the minstrels) blue skies and butterflies, and people, most especially your family, will revere you for it. What’s wrong with that?

Plenty. For starters, I had a sister who wanted to be revered by her children, just like you. Unlike you, she didn’t pine for the admiration of a husband (long story there). It was her father—our father—she most wanted to impress. She desperately wanted his love (so did I, at one point). He died before he saw her brilliant leadership, based more on people fearing her than loving her, but still.

Unlike you, she didn’t care about our world, other than achieving complete dominion over it. Now achieving that goal would’ve earned her major brownie points with dear old dad, had he lived long enough to see her do it. Oh, she did some terrible things to earn his love. But none of it worked. She never got the love she craved from him or from her children. In fact, her actions actually contributed to the death of her kids. Really. Sounds dramatic, but it’s true.

I also knew a queen who wanted to change the world. She wanted it so badly, she did terrible things to achieve it, just like my sister. That queen died lusting after her desire, just as my sister died because of her yearning to be loved.

Consider this: The more you seek love and admiration for fixing your world, the more your leadership hopes will die. Shot through the heart, poisoned, stabbed—your hopes may even take their own lives, because that kind of needy attachment is bad. So, just stop. I mean, don’t stop trying to make the world a better place. That’s worthy. But being lauded and loved for it? Not so much.

My advice: Be a humble leader who fixes the world. How? Beats me. Try Harry Potter’s class.