I was born in a small town in Ukraine and grew up with the quiet, persistent belief that to succeed I had to work three times as hard as anyone born in a big city. Early in my adult life, my biggest mistake was assuming that only big cities could offer real opportunities — and that I could simply fit my mental health into my schedule whenever I had time.
Moving to kyiv in my early 20s seemed like the ultimate dream: a chance to prove that I belonged here. But to survive there, I felt that I had to adapt to a precise and demanding system. It wasn’t enough to just stay healthy; You were expected to hold a premium membership at a high-end fitness center just to prove your worth to others. It was necessary to maintain an active and highly visible social life, eat in the right places and project total calm. It was all about trying to impress others.
I followed corporate beauty standards, ignoring all the warning signs of burnout
After graduating from university, I decided to become an international flight attendant for the Ukrainian national airline. When I got the job, I thought I had made it. Instead, imposter syndrome hit me from day one. I felt like I was constantly lagging behind my peers, so I ran as fast as I could to overcome that feeling.
The author trained as a flight attendant in her home country. Courtesy of the author
I improved my English, started learning Spanish, and adopted a summer schedule so punishing that I was almost never home. I spent years living out of a suitcase, dealing with time zone changes, early morning wake-ups, and strict corporate beauty standards. I measured my worth entirely by my exhaustion, viewing a busy schedule as proof that I mattered. Saying “no” to friends because of work has become a badge of honor.
Looking back, I knew I was exhausted, but I was too overwhelmed to stop. I believed that as long as I was busy, I was safe from failure.
I had my first panic attack
Then, life turned violently upside down. After I had my son, the pandemic grounded the aviation industry. Shortly after, war broke out in Ukraine.
We did not choose to leave our home or consider emigrating: the war made that decision for us, uprooting our family overnight. We eventually settled in a small town in Ontario – exactly the kind of quiet environment I had spent my youth trying to escape. When I arrived, I was terrified. It was so quiet and peaceful that, for the first time in my life, I began to hear my own thoughts.
My body, conditioned by a decade of high-voltage exertion and constant mobility, could not handle this sudden calm. Shortly after arriving, my first panic attack hit me. In the silence, a painful truth surfaced: I had never allowed myself to be with myself. My mind had always been filled with the next goal, the next achievement or the next deadline. At first I thought this small town marked the end of my ambition, but as the silence forced me to look inward, I realized I had spent nearly 10 years chasing an illusion.
I leaned in and found community
Unlearning this mindset was not immediate; slowing down turned out to be a skill I had to learn from scratch. In the fall of 2022, I found a part-time job as a receptionist in Canada, where I still work today. For the first time in my professional life, I wasn’t faced with a massive corporate hierarchy or competing with thousands of employees. Working alongside just three colleagues in a calm atmosphere, I joined a community where people actually knew my name.
The author says slowing down has been good for him. Courtesy of the author
Instead of chasing the next status symbol, I made knowing who I really was my top priority. I no longer pay for an expensive gym membership to impress anyone; instead, I feel fit and strong thanks to my home workouts. Practicing yoga in peace and quiet, without a studio full of strangers, makes a lot more sense to me now.
Turns out I like early morning. I love making my own sauerkraut and keeping a sourdough starter alive for making rye bread. Baking fresh cinnamon rolls for our neighbors as a small thank you for their support has become one of the most grounding and relaxing rituals of my new life. I started learning French – not to climb the career ladder or get immigration points, but purely for the enjoyment of the process. There is no deadline at the moment. I take my time, allow myself to feel stuck, and share my struggles openly with my tutor.
Slowing Down Saved My Sanity and My Marriage
Today, at 36, I build my daily life entirely around my mental health, rather than trying to confine my well-being to the cracks of a high-stress career. I refuse to operate in panic mode. Opening our eyes to this required difficult choices: letting go of old ambitions, old habits and even certain relationships. Today, I don’t maintain a large circle of friends, but I intentionally make time for the special people in my life.
The author claims that slowing down saved his marriage. Courtesy of the author
Above all, this inner change saved more than just my own peace: it transformed my marriage. In my old life, I was always at home in body, but absent in mind; my mind was constantly preoccupied with ambition. As I traded endless chasing for small, quiet moments of joy, my husband and I discovered a depth of connection we didn’t know we were missing. Forced to flee our home because of the war, we faced a crisis that could have shattered our relationship. Instead, choosing a simpler, more intentional life together has brought us closer together and made our family resilient in ways that speed could never allow.
I don’t want to fit in anymore. I prefer to belong – and there is a profound difference between the two. Through simple daily rituals, writing my weekly column, and the gentle warmth of a small community, I finally found the peace I had spent a decade trying to search for in the sky.
Gn world
