My perfectionist instinct always compels me to seek one hundred percent, and, as in many cases, I discovered a glass ceiling in this pursuit. Can anything truly be perfect? I continued my quest, looking at my family, friends, acquaintances, and even idols—individuals for whom I could vouch with 100% certainty. It turned out that I couldn’t even guarantee it for myself because circumstances and the world we inhabit are ever-changing, and where there is change, there is uncertainty. What if, though, we found a being who embodies ideal perfection, providing us with 100% certainty? What if we found a place that is 100% safe?

My answer to this question emerged quite recently, during the first week of the war in Ukraine. Prior to Russia’s aggression, I believed I had answers to all potential challenges. I devoted myself to intellectual and physical development, nurturing my body and soul, establishing a solid financial foundation, a company, a diversified portfolio of savings, investments, income sources, clients, and relationships. I had secured the most stable foundations possible. It was only when the armed conflict erupted that I realized that one day, we may possess everything, but the next day, we may have nothing except for ourselves and our lives, and even those can be snatched away swiftly. While some of my friends were worried about the situation, while others refused to acknowledge it, and the rest were panicking, contemplating escape plans, I felt paralyzed and numb due to the impending sense of vulnerability. For the first time in a long while, I found myself without answers and solutions. The things that had once brought me joy and motivation seemed dull and tasteless because, in the face of such a tragedy, nothing appeared certain or important—not business, not clients, not relationships, not even possessions, and certainly not money. We can lose everything in the blink of an eye, including our very selves.

This raised a question in my mind: What’s next? How should I act when even my inner strength seems insufficient to confront such a threat? On one hand, my paralysis stemmed from a lack of a solution, which is something I despise because I’ve always had one. On the other hand, it was born from genuine fear. You know the saying, “When in fear, God is near.” I started praying because I couldn’t think of anything else. I realized that even if my existence on this earth isn’t guaranteed (which is quite a shock for someone of my age, with potentially three-quarters of life ahead), what’s left for me if everything suddenly appears pointless and finite in terms of understanding its eventual end?

My mind began to race, and, despite being a declared Catholic, raised in a household where I was taught that being a good person would earn me a place in heaven, it was only at the age of 33 that I started contemplating life after death. Recognizing that the end will come someday in the distant future is one thing, but feeling the end draw near and experiencing the fragility of existence are entirely different. It’s no wonder that many individuals convert or undergo a profound transformation in their lives when they approach death. To be clear, I wasn’t anywhere near that point, but I felt somewhat as though I had died during those days.

For unknown reasons, my subconscious had programmed the idea that I could only go home when I had completed ‘everything,’ meaning the tasks assigned for the day plus clearing my inbox of incoming messages. I usually planned tasks for each day on Saturday, covering the entire week. In the mornings, over coffee, I updated tasks, their order, and priorities. The reason I kept working late was that I failed to account for the fact that in ongoing customer service, new inquiries kept coming in. Customers wanted to expand and modify their websites, stores, create applications, or implement system changes, and these required updates. Furthermore, after updates, other components might not be fully compatible, and new audiences emerged. While in the morning, I could calmly focus on checking off completed tasks, from 9 to 10, as others woke up and began their professional work, emails and phones started ringing. Even if I didn’t answer or reply immediately, it disturbed my peace of mind because I knew something remained unchecked and unfinished, so I addressed it. Then, I returned to the task list, but it was already two hours later, resulting in delays, sometimes by as much as two additional hours.

Each time, I convinced myself that it was just a particularly busy day and that order would be restored tomorrow. It was wishful thinking because it never ended—phones continued to ring, and new emails kept pouring in. To illustrate the absurdity of this situation, consider that many companies, especially startups, dream of this situation—customers calling and writing in without the need for acquisition efforts. What others dream of had turned into my everyday nightmare. They say, ‘Be careful what you wish for; you might just get it, but you might not like it”. Even now, as I write this article, my problem seems bizarre, but it was real and had a detrimental impact on my daily life. So, what did I do? I began planning time slots for unexpected emails and phone calls, about 2-3 hours a day. But if they weren’t scheduled, I had no idea how long they would take, and I still couldn’t finish my work day on time. I thought I was losing my mind until a sense, both conscious and subconscious, emerged that it would never end—seriously. Acceptance and understanding eventually dawned on me, allowing me to leave work even if I hadn’t responded to all the emails or cleaned my inbox. I could have acted this way from the beginning because, apart from critical issues like server failures or the store being down, which demanded immediate attention, none of the customers expected an instant response. There was an unwarranted compulsion to clear the inbox and check off all the tasks in my head. Until I grasped this and worked on it, I was fatigued by my daily life, choosing overtime voluntarily, prioritizing work, and wanting to change it, but somehow, it didn’t work out.

As you can see, perfectionism can manifest not only in the constant pursuit of upgrading and improving the tasks at hand. Personally, I stopped fretting over minor imperfections long ago, realizing that perfection is unattainable. However, I didn’t foresee that my perfectionism would manifest in my desire to tidy up everything that appeared during the day, believing that only with a clean slate and completed tasks could I allow myself to go home.

How does your perfectionism manifest? Were you aware that the journey of self-improvement, development, and learning never truly ends? Relax and take a break instead of endlessly chasing a goal that might forever elude you—just like cats can never catch a laser light; it will keep evading them, and they’ll keep chasing it

Education in our country, despite the solid theoretical knowledge we leave school with, has never truly been effective. Schools should be places where we gain not only textbook knowledge but also practical understanding — about the world and about ourselves. We choose a specialization as teenagers, after years of general education that, in theory, should help us explore different fields and make conscious decisions about what interests us. Once we choose, we should at least be somewhat prepared — both intellectually and practically — for professional and adult life.

Now, think back to the day you finished school, started your first job, moved out, or paid your first bill. For me, it was a traumatic collision with reality. I didn’t know how to fill out a tax return, but I still remember the structure of a paramecium. I had no clue about economics, credit systems, or taxes, but I could easily recite all the creative phases of Picasso. In short: I had no idea how the world actually worked — the very world I had spent most of my life supposedly “learning about.”

In school, we receive education designed for the middle class. We are taught to collect diplomas, find a “secure” full-time job, start a family, take out a mortgage, work quietly, save a bit for retirement, avoid standing out — and finally, die.

At the same time, we’re told we can do anything — be whoever we want, work wherever we like. We graduate full of optimism, convinced that life will be wonderful and that we can have it all. Yet the system demands we function like programmed drones — the working class, stripped of any real chance to fulfill our dreams or live abundantly. One contradicts the other — but no one tells us that. And when things don’t work out — when we struggle despite doing “everything right” — whom do we blame? Ourselves, of course.