…sings Michael Bolton in his song featured in Disney’s 1997 fairy tale, ‘Hercules.’

Many times, just before I drift off to sleep, I find myself daydreaming about the splendid future that awaits me. In my reverie, I envision myself as a renowned writer, with millions of followers on my social media accounts. At author events, hundreds of people hang on to my every word as I recite excerpts from my freshly published books, forming a lengthy queue for autographs on copies purchased on the day of their release. In my mind, I meticulously picture every detail, from the attire I’m wearing to the shade of lipstick on my lips. I can hardly wait for this to become a reality, and as I gradually slip into slumber, I cherish these wonderful moments from my future life.

Due to various childhood experiences and my inherently orderly and methodical personality, complete with tables and checklists, I tend toward obsessive and perfectionistic behavior. It’s no surprise that sometimes, instead of focusing on the ‘why’ of a task, my energy gets channeled into its execution so I can check it off my list. It brings an indescribable sense of relief. While this trait is highly desirable for project implementation and management, it doesn’t always serve me well in direct client work. Every day, I have a need to create and build. I’m incredibly patient and can work on the same task for months as long as it leads to progress.

My logical personality combined with my knowledge in personal development and well-being enabled me to craft a meticulous daily, weekly, monthly, and multi-year schedule, all aligned with my goals. These goals are focused on health, balance, harmony, and success. Still, something seemed amiss. Subconsciously, I was perpetuating a few toxic behaviors that hindered my complete realization of my objectives. I couldn’t pinpoint what was going wrong. Try searching for something you can’t even name—it’s a genuine ordeal.

Why did this happen? Well, if we fail to recognize and understand the deeper, subconscious learned patterns and beliefs that drive and guide us, even the most well-thought-out plans and schedules can remain unrealized. Subconsciously, we sabotage them with increasingly creative excuses. This self-work demands a substantial effort, but there’s no need to reinvent the wheel. Let’s tap into the knowledge of others in this field and channel our energy into a deep understanding of ourselves and working through our inner issues.

Once again, they sang about this in the fairy tale ‘Brother Bear,’ just a few lines away from the quote mentioned earlier. And here I am, feeling somewhat blind and deaf.

Listening to the Tarzan soundtrack (1999), beautifully performed by Phil Collins, it’s hard not to agree with its message. Generation Z often struggles to understand their older peers—not because they’re less intelligent, but because they can’t truly grasp what we feel. They haven’t lived our experiences, and their childhood was entirely different.

True understanding arises when we share a common foundation — when our experiences overlap enough to draw similar conclusions. Only then can we communicate effectively. Otherwise, we may talk and listen, but we won’t hear. We’ll fail to recognize the logic behind someone else’s actions or perspective. And when that happens, we stand in opposition or indifference, rather than building something together.

As the American psychiatrist Stephen R. Covey wrote in his book “The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People”, without the principle “seek first to understand, then to be understood,” we will never achieve synergy — the force that multiplies the results of our actions.

Yet before we can reach understanding, we must take one step back. At the very beginning, we should acknowledge that even though we are different — we are not so different after all. To paraphrase the song’s lyrics: we are different, yet we’re the same.

The fact that Generation Z forms relationships online, while millennials built them offline, doesn’t mean they seek different things. Both generations long for human connection, for love, and for belonging.

Tarzan was a human child left alone in the jungle. His cry was heard by Kala, a gorilla who decided to take him in and raise him as her own. The fact that she was a different species, distinct in biology and form, didn’t make her incapable of maternal instinct. And though Tarzan didn’t have a human mother, he still received love, care, and warmth.

Every one of us wants to love and be loved. We all need connection and a sense of belonging. So while the differences between us may seem vast — are they truly, when deep down, we all desire the same things?

Pushing into the unknown runs counter to our survival instinct. Quite simply, you’re afraid of what waits around the riverbend. The mind prefers what’s familiar—it provides stability and safety, which are essential for a peaceful life. Routine isn’t just convenient; it makes things predictable. That’s why you subconsciously repeat even harmful childhood patterns—because they’re familiar, “safe,” almost automatic. And yet, when you look back, you don’t remember the days that flowed in the same rhythm; you remember the ones that broke the pattern. Most often, the very happy moments—or the very hard ones. Have you ever talked with an old classmate and reminisced, “Remember how we got up every day, went to school, studied, and ate our sandwiches at break?” No! We’re more likely to say, “Remember how we got lost on the class trip?” or “Remember that exam three quarters of the year failed?”

New experiences allow you to grow. The world is much bigger than your neighborhood. If you sit for years in the same job, in the same position, with the same people, shop at the same store, drive the same car, and watch the same shows every evening, your life will fade. You’ll start suffocating in a gilded cage you built for yourself, imprisoned by unchanging beliefs and prejudices.

Marie Skłodowska-Curie once openly said that people fear what they don’t understand. In fact, we often simply dislike things—or even people—we don’t know. We resist getting to know them because we’re trapped within the walls of our own limitations and biases. The greatest obstacle, therefore, is ourselves. If we don’t open our minds and hearts to other perspectives, we’ll remain prisoners in a cell of our own making.

The best way to break free is to let go of prejudice and allow yourself to admit, “I might be wrong.” More precisely—to assume that everything you believe or think you know might not be true. Not to undermine your value system, but to expand your horizon.

I wrote about this—though not directly—in one of my blog posts titled “Feeling Inspired? Take Action!” There, I asked the question: Who sets the rules? and encouraged readers to consider that perhaps there are no rules at all—that we can create our own, according to how we want to live. The same principle applies to our beliefs. We can give ourselves a clean slate. The key is to ask questions with openness and genuine curiosity—just like a child would.

During one of my client meetings, I once heard:
“You know how it is with employees.”
Out of curiosity, I asked, “What do you mean?”
He replied, “No one wants to work. And when they finally do, they do nothing and still expect to be paid well.”

I truly wondered why he thought that way, so I asked, “Why do you think that happens?”
He sighed and said, “We’ve spoiled the younger generation. We give them all those benefits, so why would they bother working?”

My own experience is completely different. I have a wonderful team—people who come to work with enthusiasm. We enjoy spending time together and collaborating on projects. None of them are over thirty (yes, I’m the oldest one on the team). I told him this, and he looked at me oddly, his lips pressed into a thin line. Not realizing how emotional this topic was for him, I asked another question:
“Do you think things would be different if you built a team that shared your values and clearly communicated expectations?”

And that’s when it started—a small emotional storm. The client felt attacked, even though my questions came from genuine curiosity. Suddenly, I became the target of defensive profiling. I was told I was young and naïve, that I didn’t understand the real world, that his industry was nothing like mine, and that my remarks wouldn’t help him. He even said, “Ask your husband how it looks in his company.”

What happened here? My open questions were perceived as criticism. I was then categorized—by age, by gender, by supposed inexperience. The client had a chance to pause and consider: Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe my assumptions aren’t universal. But instead, he chose the familiar path—defending his beliefs, protecting his ego. It would’ve taken just one thought—“Maybe I’m recruiting the wrong way?”—to open a dialogue and shift perspective.
But how many of us are truly capable of doing that?

Now imagine if, instead of an adult client, a child had been sitting across from me. Would they have reacted with passive aggression? No. They would have thought about it—and answered honestly.
Don’t get me wrong—I have my own biases too. It’s not easy to go against them, but it’s possible. You can learn to listen deeply, to pause before reacting, and to engage with others without attaching your own labels to everything they say.