Part V: Today, Nobody Applauded.

My dog loves the terrace. Especially the shady spot. From there, he watches the lake. For what feels like hours. Seagulls circle overhead, calling to one another. Joggers pass by. People stroll along the waterfront. And then, suddenly—excitement. Another dog. Mine jumps to his feet, tail wagging furiously, barking as if greeting an old friend were the most important event of the day. A moment later, it’s over. He lies back down. As though nothing had happened. Sometimes I envy him for that.

My days used to look very different. Not quieter. Quite the opposite. My calendar was often filled weeks in advance. Meetings. Presentations. Interviews. Strategy workshops. Concept development. Deadlines. Back then, my diary sometimes felt like a burden.

Today, I miss it. Not because of the appointments. But because of the countless little moments of achievement hidden between them. A good idea. A meaningful conversation. A completed project. A sincere “thank you.” A shared laugh after a demanding meeting. It’s remarkable how many small moments can leave you thinking: Today was a good day.

These days, my calendar looks rather different. Walking the dog. Job applications. Perhaps a phone call. Perhaps writing another essay. And in between… checking my inbox. Hope, they say, is the last thing to die. Then, finally, a new email appears. My heart skips a beat. Perhaps an invitation. Perhaps an interview. Perhaps… “Thank you for your application…” By now, I believe I’ve read every possible version of a polite rejection. Kind. Respectful. Standardised. Probably AI-generated. Thank you. But no, thank you.

My dog lifts his head. Looks at me. Is it time for a walk? No. Not yet. He sighs. Lies back down. And falls asleep again.

A little while ago, I found myself wondering why moments of success matter so much to us. Part of the answer lies inside our brains. Whenever we experience ourselves moving closer to a goal that matters to us, our brain releases dopamine. People often call dopamine the “motivation hormone.” Strictly speaking, it’s not a hormone at all, but a neurotransmitter. A messenger. It whispers: Keep going. This is worth it.

The problem is this: When those moments of success disappear, staying motivated suddenly becomes much harder. Our brain is missing one of its most important sources of drive. So I decided to try something.

If the big achievements are missing for now… perhaps it’s time to start taking the small ones seriously. And celebrating them. Not ironically. But intentionally. Made the bed. A success. Went for a walk in the woods. A success. Sent another job application. A success. Wrote another essay. A success. Received a kind message. A success. Realised that someone had noticed me. A success. Didn’t spend the entire day overthinking. Perhaps an even bigger success.

I’ve realised something. Success isn’t always about achievement. Sometimes, success is simply about choosing life. Not giving up. Not withdrawing into silence. Not waiting for someone, someday, to applaud again.By now, my dog is standing in front of me, looking almost impatient. This time, he is right. It’s time. Time for our lunchtime walk. And who knows… perhaps the next small success is already waiting somewhere along the path. You just have to notice it.