I came across a story that made me stop and really look at myself at what I do, what I’m chasing, and all that other bullshit we usually don’t have time to think about.
It’s one of those stories that doesn’t motivate you in a loud way.
It just sits with you. And quietly rearranges things inside your head.
You might have heard of the figure skater Surya Bonaly.
A woman who was judged and criticized throughout her entire career. Her style was “wrong.” Her body was “wrong.” Her attitude was “too much.” She never really fit into what the system expected a champion to look like.
And yet, despite all that, she became European champion five times in a row.
But that’s not the point.
What really matters is what happened in 1998 at the Winter Olympics in Nagano.
By then, she was already a legend. And considering her age, it was probably her last real chance to win an Olympic medal.
The arena is silent, waiting.
The judges look cold and distant, already thinking about where they’re going to cut her scores.
Tense music starts playing, the soundtrack from dis from Dracula.
Surya begins her program.
A few moments in, during a rotation, she falls.
The arena freezes.
The judges almost seem satisfied like, “that’s it, game over.”
Everyone’s disappointed. Expectations are crushed.
This is usually the moment where everything ends.
But for Surya, that fall became something else.
It became a breath of fresh air.
She got her freedom back.
No one expected anything from her anymore. No medals. No redemption arc. No perfect ending.
So she stopped performing for them.
She started enjoying it.
She gave everything she had.
She skated purely for herself.
The arena slowly filled with energy again and then she decided to push it all the way.
She performed a forbidden backflip.
A move that was not allowed.
A move she knew would not give her any points.
A move she had never done before in official competition.
And the crowd exploded into a standing ovation.
She entered history.
She accepted the mistake, chose freedom, and stayed in the hearts of millions of people around the world even though she finished only 10th.
That moment is remembered more clearly than many Olympic medals.
For me, this story is a reminder that I don’t have to live inside other people’s expectations.
I don’t owe anyone a perfect performance.
I don’t owe anyone the “right” version of myself.
I live my own life.
And right now and this is my performance.
That’s also why testing feels so close to me.
A tester is not a jury that gives scores and decides who “performed well.”
Testing is not about judging. It’s not about punishing mistakes.
A tester shows up exactly when the illusion of perfection stops working.
When a mistake happens, expectations disappear and the truth shows up.
And in that truth, there’s freedom.
Freedom to stop pretending.
Freedom to see the product as it really is.
Freedom to build something not “for points,” not for demos or applause but something real, alive, and reliable.
That’s the kind of work I want to be close to.
The video of her performance is linked below.