I often think about the perfect day. It feels like a kind of fantasy. Waking up early, maybe around 5 a.m., stretching, meditating, reading the Bible (I’m not a religious person, it’s one of my New Year’s resolutions), and quietly reviewing some Japanese vocabulary — all before starting work at 7:30. A neat and deliberate morning. After working with full focus, I imagine a simple lunch followed by a peaceful walk with Winnie. Then another session of deep work before wrapping up for the day. A short pause, dinner, preparing tomorrow’s lunch, then off to the gym. After coming back, a warm meal, some time to write. And finally, sleep. Closing the day gently.
I hope for a day where I follow through with intention and full effort at each set moment. But in reality, everything begins to unravel the moment I open my eyes. Waking up at 5 is already difficult. My will is weak, and emotions often run wild. I am too tired to get up early, and many mornings I find myself glued to my phone instead of meditating. Sometimes I wake just 20 minutes before work and rush to turn on the computer. After work, going to the gym feels like too much, and after dinner, all I want is to rest and maybe watch a bit of YouTube clips before bed. There are so many things I want to do, and things I know I should do, but sometimes my body just does not cooperate. Sometimes my heart is not in it. And even the act of reflecting on all this, of trying to regain my footing, takes so much energy that I end up falling asleep instead.
I want to live a perfect day, perhaps even a perfect life, but I am human, and in my case, a kind of human that feels so far from perfect. And the things that are not good for my life or health are often the most fun, the most addictive. YouTube, social media, all sorts of snacks and junk food, and games.
It has been a long time since I started feeling the weight of the gap between the version of me that wants a perfect day and the version of me that lives a messy one. In my twenties, I used to be hard on myself, always asking why I could not live a proper day, and blaming myself constantly. But now, after passing through my thirties and reaching this point, I have come to realise that if I manage to live even one perfect day in a month, that is already a huge success. If I can do it once a week, that is a real achievement. The energy I have is limited. It is not even close to what is required for my ideal day. So what I can do, what I must do, is to decide each moment where to put that energy. What will I give my full effort to? What can I simply let pass? What should I avoid if I can? Life, and each day, becomes a matter of priorities.
Even that kind of decision-making takes a surprising amount of energy. That is why I try to design my days to run with as little internal debate as possible. That is why routine matters so much to me. I am trying to create a daily flow that I can realistically follow, something that includes as many of the things I want to do as possible. I am five months into that process now, still stumbling my way through. But after countless false starts and quiet disappointments, my morning routine is finally beginning to settle. Stretching, meditation, the Bible, and a few maths problems. Something to wake up both body and mind, and gently remind myself that I am a market researcher who works with numbers and data.
My evening routine, in contrast, is still under construction. As I said, going to the gym often feels too tiring. I know I should be writing, but I somehow end up losing time on YouTube. There is still a wide gap between what I intend to do and what I actually do, and I do not quite know yet how to close it. People say “just do it”, but it is not that simple.
Still, I think about the perfect day. How satisfying it would feel to live it just as I planned. I know my perfectionism shows up in many parts of my life. But thankfully, I am not at the point where I let the fear of imperfection stop me from doing anything at all. Every day, every hour, I do what I can, sometimes making the best decisions, sometimes the worst.
Most days are around 60/100. A few are 90/100, and I feel quietly elated. Rare ones drop to 30/100, and I feel like collapsing. But even on those days, I try not to hate or blame myself. Every single day I live is the best I can do. And each of those days makes me who I am.
How does your day look like?