Unoptimised

Freedom, flexibility, no traffic.

And no, I’m not going to pretend it doesn't work. I like it. I still value the peace. Being able to work on the patio on a warm day, or going to a cafe to sit and watch people through the window. I have time for running, training, and a proper lunch. Even for FIFA on PlayStation, when it's pouring rain outside.

But after six years, I am starting to see the darker side of working from home, too.

Maybe it’s because I have a permanent job, a mortgage, and a family. I can't just travel whenever I want, or work from a van or from Bali on a whim.

From 8:30 to 3:30, I am always alone. Then everyone comes home, and the family chaos breaks the silence.

Until now, I loved those seven hours of peace, of my own time, of focus.

But at some point, the silence in the house stops being peaceful. It starts to feel heavy. It’s not "design fatigue"—where you just don't have the energy to finish a task. It’s something deeper. It's loneliness becoming real. A moment when you realise your professional life has become an endless loop: Teams - Figma - Teams - Figma.

I’ve been through depression-kind-of-state. Twice. I know how close you can get to the edge, thinking everything is fine because “I work remotely, I have everything I need.” But loneliness starts to hurt. I miss having a colleague sitting next to me. Even if everyone is just a few clicks away on Slack, it’s still an artificial connection—like with family back in Poland. Always through a phone. Always on a screen.

And even though I don't want to call it burnout—because that word is too simple—I feel like I'm running out of air. I need interaction that isn't just another window on Teams.

In my industry, the hybrid model is becoming the new standard. More and more companies want designers in the office two or three days a week. But it’s still not a perfect model. Two days in the office only make sense if the people I work with are there at the same time. There is no point in going to the office just to sit alone in Figma or on Teams.

The ideal setup would be the office once every two or three weeks, when the whole team is there. That’s when you have workshops, collaborate, build a team, and have a beer after work. Travelling to the office twice a week is problematic due to another reason.

I work in finance. Most of this industry is in London. Almost all the banks are there. I live two and a half hours north by train. It works because my department is mostly remote. When needed, I’m there for meetings or workshops, but most days I’m at home, or occasionally in Preston or Manchester. But I see what is happening in the market. It makes you think.

There should be a space for being imperfect

By profession, I design interfaces. This is my craft. But something unsettling is happening in this craft. AI is changing the way we work. We can create faster than ever. Expectations are growing. The pressure to deliver more in less time is becoming normal.

And suddenly, I felt like I was being optimised, too.

I feel like just another part of the process. Like a piece of a system that is only supposed to work faster and more smoothly. But in this rush for perfection, we lost something important. We lost the space for mistakes, for chaos, and for emotion. I realised that I need something that cannot be optimised.

Something that requires time, mess, and imperfection.

Telling stories.

And here, working from home becomes a blessing. The moment I close my laptop, I switch from work to home. Instantly. I don't have to sit in traffic or on a train for an hour or two. I put the laptop away and pick up my camera.

This isn't just another project to complete. It's not "content" to get views. It's my passion, my escape, a return to my childhood dream of being a director.

I’m certainly not a great filmmaker. Maybe what I’m doing is just an attempt to return to what I used to love. But it is my way of fighting this isolation.

I know that making videos is a lonely process. I am still sitting in front of a screen alone. I am still editing, recording, and planning without a big team behind me. But saying these words out loud, giving them a form, and putting them out there... it is my way of breaking the loop.

In many ways, designing and filmmaking are very similar. You are the one who judges the final result. This isn't a solution to loneliness. But it is my way of not letting it become my whole world. Because when I talk to the camera, I am talking to you. And you can reply in the comments. You know who I am. We can talk (as long as it's meaningful).

I stopped designing just for users. I started telling stories about humans. About me. And about how I am trying to find my way back to a reality that is much wider than the edges of my monitor.

After six years, my office is also becoming a film studio. And once again, I am stepping into water I do not know. I'm glad you can be part of this.