How many times does a small problem escalate into a big monster that we can’t even tame?

I used to consider myself someone with a short fuse—easy to get offended if things didn’t align with my ideals. No matter how hard people tried, if I found something out of place, I was ready to bring it up aggressively, demanding immediate correction. I believed our time on earth was short, and to be truly happy, we needed to fight and chase our dreams. Unfortunately, not only was our time limited, but our resources were as well. Therefore, we had to use our time and energy wisely and efficiently. I didn’t just hold others to high standards; I held myself to those exact same benchmarks.

Later in life, I realized that any standard we apply to ourselves and others—no matter how small—will create dissatisfaction and relationship friction if applied blindly outside a work environment. Unfortunately, I was never very good at maintaining smooth relationships with family and friends. I felt joy and comfort in environments that demanded our absolute best, and there was a deep satisfaction in solving seemingly impossible problems. I was accustomed to high standards because discipline not only helped me achieve my goals, but it was also a necessary action to prevent future disasters.

Problems are easy to solve when they are small. But if they start causing systemic failures in an interdependent environment, they become very difficult to fix, turning into existential crises rather than simple puzzles. “Nipping it in the bud”—that was the phrase I lived by. All my discipline and standards were meant to intercept problems before they even manifested their symptoms. Why wait for disaster to strike when, by understanding cause and effect, you can predict what will happen?

However, when dealing with people, friends, and family, our attempts to protect them are often misunderstood. I consider myself a lifelong learner; I love learning anything that gives me a better chance at a happier life. The more I learn, the better I can prepare for future events. I can take others’ perspectives and apply them to my own situations easily.

Unfortunately, when I spoke my mind to others, they often thought I was being negative and pessimistic. That wasn’t true at all. If you are aware of a problem before it exists, it is easy to avoid its consequences. I was seen as someone trying to avoid risks, whereas what I actually wanted was to bring risks out into the open so they could be recognized and mitigated—not run away from.

Maybe it was the way I communicated, or maybe it was something else. Regardless, I was remarkably successful at enraging my friends and family. I held my standards high and stood my ground as a firm believer in risk mitigation. After a few heated debates, I realized their way of thinking simply wasn’t in sync with mine; they didn’t understand the core principles of my beliefs. I couldn’t lower my standards to match theirs either, because I couldn’t ignore what I could clearly predict, and refusing to prepare proper mitigations felt like abysmal conduct to me. It was a non-negotiable position.

It was a painful realization because I expected them to understand my position and my way of thinking. I could see much farther ahead, and my standards had proven effective at mitigating known risks. They had enjoyed the fruits of my foresight—why couldn’t they see that this method was superior to impulsive action? Even so, I had to accept that you cannot force people to understand you.

What was left to do to save my relationships? At first, I felt there was no middle ground: either my standards won, or I walked away. Fortunately, I found a better way: a containment strategy.

Instead of bending my knee or forcing them to submit to my will, I created a boundary. I told them I wouldn’t participate in unnecessary conceptual discussions since our minds worked differently, but I would still happily handle whatever tasks they needed. In return, when I was leading a project, they needed to follow my direction.

Through all these experiences, I now understand that problems won’t grow into monsters if you solve them early. And if a problem has already grown too large, it is often better to contain it and learn to live with it, rather than endure the massive cost of a destructive confrontation.