I would consider the most important learning that has come to me is the necessity of having success that is definable, visible, readily exploitable. My career was in human services, hearing people’s problems and issues, offering advice and counsel occasionally, standing with people who are experiencing the worst of the human experience - loss, violence, neglect, abuse, prejudice. The human experience teeters on the brink between joy and sorrow, gain and loss, with more of the latter than we grew up thinking would ever come our way.
One does not get many successes in such endeavors, so you go home at night after the church meeting that just would not end and you feel like you haven’t accomplished anything worthwhile. Then you go down to the basement, power up the system, and run something until there’s an issue, electrical, mechanical, design, execution of the plan - and then you go find a way to fix that issue. All of the issues in the basement can eventually be fixed, and the train is running again. That is one true joy of the hobby - you get to either cover-up your mistakes with more scenery or you tear it out and re-do it. Good either way.
You analyze the problem, attempt to isolate it, break it down into components, identify what those electrons are or are not doing, what those numbers mean, where the breakdown falls.
Successes in the basement off-set, balance, moderate the no-successes in the office. And that’s enough to go upstairs to bed, wake up in the morning, and keep going back to the office. The world “out there” is grey and does not have a full complement of successes over which to rejoice. The world in the basement is for the most part black-and-white, either it works or it doesn’t, and if it’s not working, get busy and fix it.
Oh, and write things down, keep a record of which wire goes where and why, what color and brand of paint you used here, what the standards for your efforts are. And it’s a hob