There is no perfect. The world is chaos, it is the cacophony. The mud is inescapable because it is an unceasing byproduct of human existence. You'll never be free of the mess. You'll never wash out the human stain. Fighting this notion, even if temporarily satisfying, ultimately brings misery. Trade in that treadmill chase for the next fix, that short-term dopamine of righteousness, for the long-term sanity born of embracing the madness. Accept that you're part of the crazy and live peacefully, visiting as much kindness on yourself and others as you can.
The storm may be permanent, but so to is your mind's ability to provide shelter.