Sergey N. (LIE) — Ambition, Freedom, and Human Connection

Family Dynamics and Distant Bonds

I remember my parents worked a lot, while I spent entire days outside just wandering around with friends and building treehouses.

My relationship with my father was strict. He was often an authority figure to be feared. I realized I had to act in a way that pleased him, or at least stayed neutral, otherwise I risked being punished or scolded. Since my father was the head of the family—or so it felt in my childhood—I don't recall receiving warmth or tenderness from him.

Now I realize I am very close with my mother. But again, while many parents frequently talk to their kids, say "I love you," and hug and kiss, we never had any of that. Later on, when I looked around and saw other families living by those rules—observing how classmates interacted with their parents, praising each other, hugging, and playfully patting each other on the shoulder or back—I realized we never had those moments.

I know that if we had, it would have felt much better. But since it wasn't there, I accepted the situation: this was our version, this was how our life turned out. I accept my parents just as they are.

Longing for Warmth and Guidance

The main thing, the most fundamental thing I wished for in childhood, was a warm relationship with my parents, closeness, and that sense of care and protection you see in so many families.

Many people say parents shouldn't force their own desires onto their children. But that is precisely what I lacked—a firm hand, a steady line to direct me and push me forward, because I struggled to choose a goal for myself.

Incentives, Accountability, and Parental Expectations

My parents always motivated me both materially and non-materially. In school, every successful academic quarter earned me a toy or something I had wished for.

My mother and I had a clear agreement at the start of each quarter: if I finished with good grades, I received the item I wanted. I see many parents compromise—buying things even when their child gets a poor grade—but my parents never did. If I got a bad grade, I received nothing. That served as a major incentive. Whether I wanted a model train set, an outing, or new clothes, half a year of academic diligence was rewarded with a monthly bonus. On top of that, there were smaller motivators like cake and praise.

At the end of each quarter, my report card—signed by the homeroom teacher—went through a strict review. First, my mother evaluated my performance, and then we presented it to my father, who served as the ultimate judge. Earning his approval was vital to me, and I was terrified of getting a bad grade.

When I received my first bad grade in university—despite being a solid student—it felt completely undeserved. Hearing my father's disappointment was painful, and I walked away carrying a heavy dose of negative emotion. I took it as a personal defeat and agonized over it for a long time. Grades meant everything to me.

Finding my Path in Sports

When I was seven, my parents brought me to the Lokomotiv stadium and said, "Choose which sport you want to play." Since all the boys played soccer and it was the most common sport, I initially picked soccer. However, because it was physically demanding for me, I thought I wouldn't be able to endure the strain and decided it wasn't for me.

I switched to tennis and played for about seven years or maybe more. Again, it was more my choice than my parents'—in the sense of "run wherever you want." That's how I got into tennis, but later I realized I still wanted to play soccer.

At fifteen or sixteen, I made up my mind: I quit tennis and went into soccer. But it was already too late because that journey starts much earlier. In the end, it turned out neither here nor there, though I was left with many fond memories.

The Value of a Mentor

I needed someone who truly knew the right way to guide me on that path. Having a mentor is essential. As it turned out, when I joined the tennis club, I found a wonderful mentor in my coach—spiritually, physically, and in terms of perseverance. He developed many qualities in us that I now consider vital for a person's character. Back then, I learned about them without realizing how important they were.

Physical Awareness

Physically, I tend to feel disconnected from my body unless I stay active, so I engage in a wide variety of sports to maintain my physical tone. Exercise is essential for a child like me to stay grounded and connected to their body.

I distinctly recall my first major injury: falling from a tree and suffering a concussion—a vivid and memorable event. While other kids jumped off garage roofs, I refused; I knew falling would hurt and wasn't worth the risk. Later, sports brought a few more injuries, including a broken arm and a broken finger playing football.

Finding Structure and Navigating Middle School

There was a time, maybe in sixth or seventh grade—I don’t remember—maybe my mom suggested it, maybe I tried it myself: keeping a list of homework in my diary—what was assigned, what I’d done—literally ticking off each item. I marked it when I finished. It was great. It pushed me to get everything done faster.

In fifth and sixth grade, I struggled to adapt to the new stage. Suddenly, there were so many different teachers, and it was hard to tell what they wanted, what to expect, or how to act. It was stressful for me, especially since primary school centers around just one teacher.

Children need to be taught early on that everyone is different: "Take your time, observe, and don't be afraid of the teachers."

Overcoming Shyness in Early School Years

In primary school, I was extremely shy, modest, and self-conscious. Socializing was hard for me, and I struggled to fit in. I was quiet in class and couldn't imagine standing up to speak aloud, always avoiding attention. I feared that doing so would lead to embarrassment, making me look foolish or awkward. While I interacted with both boys and girls, I was particularly timid and reserved around girls.

Everything up until ninth grade was a transitional phase of acquiring knowledge—mostly about myself, coming to terms with who I was.

Finding Value in Books

I read books constantly now. I remember my mother very often insisting that I read—and it was specifically my mother, and she specifically insisted. She would say, "Read!"

Since my childhood coincided with the rapid rise of computer technology, new video games brought something so bright and fundamentally novel into life that I devoted a great deal of time to them. Naturally, it was an easier, more fun way to pass the time. I didn't want to read; I wanted to play and hang out outside. Later on, reading came naturally, starting small.

In fifth grade, I started falling severely behind because my primary school experience hadn't prepared me well for higher grades. I don't know for sure, but it was likely my mother who guided me—I made it a rule to strictly do my homework, read all required materials, and even read extra. This didn't apply to fiction yet, which remained uninteresting and useless to me; I saw no point in it.

Everything changed thanks to a wonderful literature teacher in fifth grade who strongly instilled in us the importance and necessity of reading. I began to view books as a source of knowledge. By ninth, tenth, and certainly eleventh grade, books had become an essential part of my life.

Passion for the 19th Century

I fell in love with books about the 19th century—the balls, duels, clever high-society debates, exquisite phrasing, and the mindset of that era. For some reason, the 19th century deeply resonated with me, and I developed a genuine passion for reading. I always needed to know exactly how things were back then. At first, I stuck strictly to the school curriculum, reading everything thoroughly and often more than once.

When we reached the 20th century in eleventh grade—studying brilliant authors like Bulgakov and Sholokhov—I lost interest. I read only because I had to, sometimes just skimming pages because it was a different era.

Surprisingly, history beyond the 19th century never appealed to me. Everything after the Revolution felt somehow wrong to me; although I later realized its economic and societal importance, I couldn't connect with it culturally.

Eventually, through sheer willpower, I forced myself to read, understand, and engage with it, even as the cultural elements of the 19th century faded away. Yet, I never once doubted the necessity of reading.

Starting in ninth grade, I became a different person: outgoing and fond of being the center of attention. I often cracked jokes out loud during class for everyone to hear, and teachers would play along. Out of twenty-five students, I became one of the main favorites.

My humor wasn't irritating; I intentionally kept my behavior light and non-confrontational so it wouldn't cause backlash. This shift happened because I observed a classmate and figured out a strategy for social success.

I always studied hard and knew the material thoroughly, but I deliberately hid it. I adopted the image of a slacker who constantly "forgot" his textbooks—even though they were right there in my bag—or pretended he hadn't done the homework.

Yet, whenever questions arose or others needed help, I had all the answers and offered useful insights. It was crucial for me to appear as though I just naturally knew things. Deep down, I instinctively felt that if people saw the hours I spent every evening buried in textbooks, studying everything inside and out, they would view me differently.

I projected an image of spontaneous, quick-witted humor and effortless intelligence—as if I never crammed and just caught on instantly.

A simple joke, a smile, or a laugh was usually enough to create a warm, positive vibe among my classmates and teachers. Because of this, I loved school, especially the final years, which I still look back on with great nostalgia.

Now at twenty-four, having moved through several career milestones and university years, my final high school years remain an ideal era in my memory—a time when I was an initiator, an important person in the class—or at least I believed that everyone thought well of me.

It was a very pleasant time for me.

School Freedom and Daily Routines

School represented complete freedom for me; it was my own world. I didn't spend much time hanging out outside—my universe revolved around school, home, and sports. My days were packed with activities I enjoyed and structured down to the minute, which made school feel like a realm of independence.

Back in school, I planned my time meticulously. On my daily bus ride home, I always did three things:

Reflecting on the Day: I reviewed everything that had happened—what people said to me, how my jokes landed, and how I handled various situations.
Planning the Next Steps: I mapped out my evening in my head down to the hour. For instance, I'd plan to get home, eat within an hour, and play computer games for three hours before my parents arrived. By the time they walked in, I'd already be at my desk, making it look like I had been studying the entire time. My days were always scheduled like this.
Observing the World: I loved watching everything around me—it was something that just came to me naturally.

Lessons in Gambling and Self-Control

I am a gambler at heart. Knowing that I can easily get carried away, I choose not to play. I remember in school we gambled for everything—insert stickers, beer caps, pogs, and eventually money. I would get so deeply absorbed and consumed by the thrill that I couldn't stop.

Back then, I constantly lost my lunch and bus money to games. It wasn't a huge amount, but at some point, I realized I shouldn't gamble and needed to pull myself together and refrain.

Today, I approach things with a more balanced and rational mindset. My attitude has changed, which is why childhood lessons are so important.

Caution vs. Impulse

I am someone who weighs everything. If I see a potential risk, I evaluate it thoroughly before taking the chance. I often think that living like those who act on impulse might be more interesting. I rarely take risks because I understand the consequences. This applies to everything: driving, financial investments, and personal relationships.

There were several situations where, analyzing them later, I wondered if I did the right thing regarding a person by expressing or withholding my emotions. I often played it safe, knowing that my actions or words might be judged. Sometimes I chose not to express an emotion to a client—just in case. I tend to be cautious with people, not just in relationships, but across all areas of life.

To me, a life without constant weighing and subconscious self-control seems truly fascinating.

This caution applies to everything: work, everyday life, and relationships with friends and the opposite sex. I often think it's good to be balanced, proper, and serious because it minimizes potential risk, negative outcomes, and danger. Yet, at the same time, that edge always draws me in.

Building Habits Through Structure and Reminders

A child like me needs clear instructions on what to do and when to do it. You simply have to give them a task and repeat the reminder consistently. They might be engrossed in another activity and genuinely forget, so you need to remind them again and again until it becomes second nature.

It might take a month or two for a habit to form, but once established, they will follow through. For instance, my mom and I started with washing the floors; eventually, it became a habit, and I accepted it as my personal responsibility. Now, I schedule household chores like shopping and cleaning directly into my routine.

A Commitment to Cleanliness and Order

Fastidiousness is a defining trait of mine. It took my parents a long time to instill in me the habits of washing my hands, cleaning up after meals, and putting things back where they belong. These rules became my core values. They serve me very well, and when I see others neglect basic hygiene or order, it feels like nails on a chalkboard to me.

The Importance of Essential Life Skills

Children should be taught how to cook and manage a household early on. It was my own oversight that I paid little attention to how food was prepared or how home chores were handled. Instead of focusing on practical domestic skills, I was always reading or kicking a soccer ball.

Later in life, I realized these skills are necessary, but by then, you no longer have the opportunity to spend all day at home watching your parents perform them naturally.

Home Cooking vs. Practical Nutrition

I love home-cooked food. That preference stems from habit, as my mother always cooked for me, and I’ve never found an equivalent replacement. Today, I cook many of my own meals. While I don't particularly enjoy the process of cooking, I love transforming raw ingredients into a small visual and culinary masterpiece.

However, I often don't bother and simply grab a quick snack or skip a meal altogether. My choice to cook usually comes down to time: if my schedule is packed with gym sessions and meetings, I'll go to a fast-food spot and pick something quick, hot, and filling. I choose food with my head rather than my palate. For instance, I might head to McDonald's after a workout to satisfy my hunger. I know it's unhealthy and not gourmet, but it delivers the right balance of efficiency, calories, and fullness.

Inner Motivation and the Circle of Trust

My motivation to help at home wasn't driven by big rewards; it came from a genuine desire to assist my mother, knowing how hard she worked and how little time she had. Simply hearing her say, "Please help me," was enough to get me to do anything.

As I grew up, I realized parents occupy a unique and irreplaceable space in life. Today, I have a clear boundary between inner and outer circles. For my inner circle—my parents, close friends, grandmother, and loved ones—I would do anything. For people outside this circle, I remain fairly indifferent. Helping an acquaintance takes conscious effort and calculation, almost like a deposit into a relationship bank account where I evaluate the long-term return.

Learning Relationships Through Experience

Relationships are understood through trial and error. When a child faces a conflict, they might come home upset or in tears, realizing for the first time that interacting with people isn't always easy—but that becomes their own valuable experience.

People are complex, and learning to understand their motives takes time. They differ not only in their worldviews, but also in character—some act out of good intentions, others out of bad ones. It's essential to understand why someone acted a certain way. There can be contradictions: a good person might do something bad in a specific situation. You might mistakenly judge them as a bad person when that isn't the full picture. I believe this insight only comes with time.

Developing Human Insight and Analysis

If I were raising children, I would encourage them to closely observe people—to watch, analyze, and learn from human interactions. Even if the analysis is primitive at first, making that connection—"this is who they are, and this is why they did that"—builds a foundation that matures over time.

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this. Growing up, I was rarely given advice or direct instructions on how to handle relationships.

I don't recall relying on parental rules or norms during social interactions; instead, I acted based on emotion and gut feeling. Even now, I realize I haven't overcome this: I connect with people as my heart dictates. With some, I am unexpectedly kind and gentle—even when others say I shouldn't be—while with others, I am strict, blunt, or distant. Sometimes a person's glance, gesture, or posture immediately shapes how I perceive them.

No matter how much I analyze people and look into their motivations, 40 to 50 percent of my reactions are still driven by subconscious instinct before my analytical mind even kicks in.

The Search for True Understanding

I don't recall ever opening up to my parents about my inner anxieties. As a child, I talked to myself—analyzing why things happened, internalizing events, and running alternative scenarios in my head. I never had a best friend in the traditional sense—someone you call at any moment to share your deepest feelings.

Yet, I've always felt an inner need for that kind of connection: the kind of ideal friend you only read about in books, someone who understands your pain, insecurities, and thoughts completely. I didn't have that person then, and I don't have them now.

While I occasionally tried to get closer to my mother, it didn't always work out. Eventually, I turned to peers to share my thoughts. This isn't a criticism of parents, but rather a realization that age differences create distinct value systems. While I share much in common with my parents, my core values naturally align closer with people my own age.

Nurturing Broad Horizons and a Peaceful Home

Parents should expose their children to a wide range of interests, activities, and travel to broaden their horizons, while maintaining a warm and affectionate connection.

For me, having a quiet home is essential. It serves as a sanctuary from a noisy, fast-paced, and indifferent world. Returning home should offer an experience you can't find elsewhere: a warm, calm, structured environment where time slows down.

A Complex Relationship with Money

My attitude toward money is complicated. Many might think I'm completely reckless with it. On one hand, it matters deeply to me how much money I have, and I need it to be accounted for. For two years now, I've kept a strict ledger of my income and expenses.

On the other hand, because I handle money constantly, it ends up scattered everywhere—stuffed in all my pockets, uncounted, crumpled, and mixed together until judgment day (say, Sunday). During the week, I spend on a whim: "I want this, I want that."

But at the end of the week, I sit down, pile it up, and count it like a general assessing losses after a battle.

Childhood Constraints vs. Adult Freedom

I watch how other people manage money—always calculated, bills stacked neatly, large notes in one pocket and small change in another. I never had that. In my childhood, I had no general allowance; I was only given money for transit and food. Everything else—clothes, gifts, toys—was strictly targeted funding. My mom and I would go buy clothes, a soccer ball, or a toy together. I never had a pile of cash to spend as I pleased.

Now, the situation has flipped: I have money, it flows freely, and it functions in a very specific way for me.

Redefining the Value of Money

Money used to be my primary drive. When I worked as an employed sales manager and trade representative, making an extra two or five hundred rubles was a huge incentive. I paid no mind if earning that extra cash harmed my health, took a mental toll, or wasted my time.

If I was fined for breaking rules or discipline, I just accepted it calmly. Looking back and adding up all the money I lost to fines and missed pay, it comes out to a sizable sum. If I could go back, I would act differently.

Money is important, but it isn't everything; its true purpose is to grant freedom. It's having enough in your pocket to buy something for your girlfriend, go on vacation, or pick out clothes without a second thought.

Generosity, Boundaries, and the Search for Freedom

Recently, I've noticed how some of my friends struggle financially. When we met at cafes, they couldn't afford to order anything. That bothered me. Wanting everyone to have a good time, I would buy them food and drinks—though later, I would still count those expenses and keep mental note of them.

I don't just spend on friends; I spend on anything that feels like an expression of freedom. I love experiencing new and prospective things. When a new metro bridge opened, I drove across it back and forth at night just for the experience.

The Rewards of Entrepreneurship

This past spring, I quit my job, started my own business, and haven't regretted it for a single moment. I work whenever I choose. Sometimes I work late into the night, early in the morning, or all day long. Other days, I realize I need rest and lie in bed all day while the rest of the world is working, knowing I need to recharge for tomorrow.

I love running a small company. You handle everything yourself, understand how every part functions, and have the power to change things. You analyze the weaknesses, leverage the strengths, and directly impact the outcome. Working for myself is what truly motivates me.

Building Confidence Through Responsibility

For a child like this, it is crucial to foster self-confidence and a sense of personal responsibility. This is a pivotal factor that makes a person feel meaningful, successful, and capable of achievement. Taking responsibility has a profound, positive impact.

By nature, I have an innate drive to be independent and to work. I have a genuine interest in working, earning money, living actively, and moving forward.

Reflections on Childhood and Living Intensely

I wouldn't change my childhood, adolescence, or youth for anything. It is the path I walked, and I am glad for it. I am content with what happened and what didn't, with the people I met, and the events I experienced.

Even so, I sometimes long for a brighter, more vivid life. I look at people with a different mindset, and their lives seem like an emotional bomb. They live in a way where every day brings events that are often wild, unconventional for me, very vibrant, and, in my view, risky or thoughtless.

The Inner Judge and the Pursuit of Growth

Ever since childhood, I’ve had a strict internal judge. If I slept in for more than half an hour two days in a row, a deep sense of guilt would eat away at me from the inside. If I failed to do something I promised myself I would do, I felt I was failing my own standards. I realized that acting like that wouldn't lead to success.

For me, life is a constant race against myself. If I don't continuously develop, I risk becoming like the people I never wanted to resemble.

The Correlation Between Effort and Success

Seeing how my sister approached school and university, I found it hard to understand her lack of drive, though I try to accept that everyone is different.

I struggle to comprehend why some people lack motivation in life—why they don't want to work, read, travel, build connections, or grow. To me, the path is clear: you must push yourself and achieve good results to be successful later in life. While it isn't always a direct line, there is a clear pattern. Success doesn't happen by accident; it comes from relentless self-improvement.

In school, grades are the primary indicator of success. Later in life, those grades simply change form—taking the shape of promotions and raises at work, or the depth and quality of your friendships. It all traces back to childhood habits.

Childhood Visions

As a child, my mind was full of big ideas: how to improve the world, redesign roads, rethink bus mechanics, build new types of bridges, and foster better human relationships.

Connecting with Human Progress and History

I love the dynamic forward march of humanity. I want to touch every new advancement—whether it's new literature, innovative ideas, or technological milestones. Even if a book disappoints me or a new technology isn't useful for my daily life, just knowing about it connects me to human progress.

When we drove to Crimea this summer, we passed the site of the Battle of Kursk. Seeing the monument and the field where that historic World War II battle took place felt like a revelation—as if I were touching history itself.

Goal-Oriented Living

Having a clear goal and systematically moving toward it is fundamental to how I operate. You advance step by step, check off your accomplishments, and move to the next target. Saving time in one stage allows you to win in the next.

Managing Mood Swings

I experience unpredictable mood swings and sudden emotional shifts. On any given day, I might spend a few hours feeling down, only for that mood to be replaced by bright joy and then calm. I don't fully understand why this happens, but I firmly believe that maintaining a positive mindset is the most productive way to live. Today, I actively push negative thoughts aside and force myself to focus on the good, as it helps me navigate life much more effectively.

Source: How to Raise a Child Without Complexes by O. Mikhevnina