Dennis Schulz

Perfectionism. It’s something that a lot of us secretly battle with, no matter how much we pretend to let go of it. We see the flawless Instagram posts, the perfectly curated lives of others, and it’s easy to get caught up in the idea that everything must be pristine, organized, and controlled. For years, I tried to live by this standard. Every project I undertook, every interaction I had, was measured against this invisible ideal of perfection. But here’s the thing: perfection is a lie. It wasn’t until I took a step back from my relentless pursuit of flawlessness that I realized how much I was missing out on. The small mistakes, the messy moments, the imperfections—they were where the true beauty lay. I had been so focused on making everything “right” that I’d overlooked the spontaneity and authenticity that comes from simply letting things be. One of the first steps to embracing imperfection was letting go of the need to control every little thing. I had to accept that so...

A few years ago, I learned a lesson that completely shifted how I approach relationships, both with others and myself. It wasn’t taught in a seminar or read in a book; it came from a simple moment of frustration. I was trying to “help” a friend by giving unsolicited advice on how they should handle a difficult situation. Instead of gratitude, I was met with a quiet, polite, but firm: “I just need you to listen.” That sentence hit me like a freight train. I realized that I had been so focused on fixing things, on sharing my perspective, that I forgot the most important part of being a friend: simply being present. It’s such a human urge—to want to help, to guide, to nudge people in the direction we think is best. But sometimes, the best gift we can give someone is the freedom to be themselves, mistakes and all. This realization didn’t just stop at friendships. I started noticing how much I did this with everyone—family, colleagues, even strangers. I’d suggest solutions before anyone eve...

I used to be the type of person who had every detail of my life planned out. My calendar was color-coded, my to-do lists were endless, and I carried a notebook filled with five-year goals and backup plans for my backup plans. It gave me a sense of control, a belief that as long as I stuck to my script, everything would fall into place. But life, as it often does, had other ideas. It started with a single unexpected event—a job offer I didn’t see coming. It was in a different city, far from the place I’d called home my entire life. It wasn’t part of the plan, so my first reaction was to decline. But something nagged at me. For weeks, I debated, wrestling with the fear of abandoning the carefully constructed life I’d mapped out. Eventually, I took the leap. Moving to a new city meant starting over—new job, new people, new challenges. My first few weeks were a mess. I got lost on my way to work, forgot to pay a bill on time, and even showed up at the wrong office for a meeting. Nothing wa...

In a world obsessed with completion and perfection, the idea of an unfinished project often feels like a failure. I’ve been there myself, staring at a half-completed task, whether it’s a painting, a book, or even a work assignment, and feeling frustrated by the lack of progress. We’ve all been taught that the end result is what matters most. But lately, I’ve come to realize that there’s something special in unfinished projects. They are a reminder that growth isn’t always linear, and sometimes the process is just as beautiful as the end product. I started noticing this when I looked at the pile of projects I had put aside over the years. A journal with a few pages written, an art project half-painted, a blog post that never quite made it past the first draft. At first, I felt guilty, like I had failed somehow. But then I saw something different. Each of these projects was a snapshot of where I was at the time—my thoughts, my creativity, my struggles, and my excitement. Thes...

Letting go is one of the hardest things to learn in life. Whether it’s a relationship that no longer serves us, a job we’ve outgrown, or even a version of ourselves we’re ready to move on from, the process of releasing can feel impossible. I’ve always struggled with this. I would hold on to things long after they stopped making sense in my life, out of fear of the unknown. But over time, I’ve learned that letting go is not about losing something—it’s about making room for what’s next. The first time I truly let go of something significant was when I decided to leave a job that had become toxic. I stayed far longer than I should have because I felt safe in the routine and because the thought of starting over felt terrifying. But that safety was an illusion. Every day I stayed, I was losing a piece of myself—my confidence, my energy, and my joy. When I finally left, it felt like stepping off a cliff, but the freedom that followed was worth every ounce of fear. Letting go does...

A few months ago, I stood in the middle of my room, completely overwhelmed by the amount of stuff I had accumulated over the years. Clothes I hadn’t worn in ages, books I hadn’t touched since college, and random trinkets I couldn’t even remember buying cluttered every corner. For the longest time, I’d ignored the mess, convincing myself that I was too busy to deal with it. But one weekend, I finally decided to tackle it head-on—and it turned out to be one of the most liberating experiences of my life. I started with the easiest task: my closet. The first few minutes were tough. Every item I pulled out came with an excuse to keep it. “I might wear this someday,” or, “This has sentimental value.” But as I went along, I realized that most of these things weren’t adding any real value to my life. They were just taking up space—physically and mentally. I adopted the “if it doesn’t spark joy, let it go” mantra, and by the end of the day, I had two big bags of clothes ready to don...

For years, I kept putting off a deep declutter of my home. I would glance at the stacks of old magazines, clothes I hadn’t worn in years, and random gadgets collecting dust in the corners, thinking, “I’ll get to it eventually.” But the days turned into months, and I realized how much this clutter was starting to weigh on me. I’d heard people talk about the benefits of decluttering, but I wasn’t sure I believed it would make a difference. One weekend, though, I decided to take the plunge—and it turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve made. At first, the task seemed overwhelming. When you start sorting through years of accumulated stuff, you quickly see just how much you’ve been holding on to “just in case.” It was exhausting, both physically and mentally, to sift through each item and decide if it still held value in my life. But with every box I packed to donate or throw away, I felt a weight lifting. I was creating space, not just physically but mentally too. One o...