This week my cat died. I held him in my hands as he passed away after 20 years of being a fuzzy friend. After the first tears passed I felt an overwhelming sense of relief at I wasn't sure how to process.
I've been working on something big, at least in my head, for over a year now. For the first six months my coworkers were skeptical at best and at worst, unsupportive and critical. But I pressed on because no one understood the vision, and no one would until I proved it possible. Then, after a tipping point, that mysterious market change where suddenly everything becomes clear, everyone went from critic to heaping hope, expectation, and almost desperation for the success of my project. A small scrappy idea went from nothing to 100m$ and success went from a few million users to demands for over 1 billion. And so with impossible expectations, I pressed on again. I began suffer constant tightness in my chest, visions of the void that kept me awake and wide eyed in terror, and anger. Deep down I knew this couldn't meet my or my peers expectations, at least not overnight.
After my cat died, it reminded me that all things end. And when something ends it's a chance to start something new. My panic and burnout was the realization I too would die, and this project is likely to be my biggest measurable contribution to humanity. I got on a plane and flew to nowhere in particular and just hung out for a few days. Then I came back and started to look for a new place to live.
Being frozen in the same position for a long time, working towards the same goal is self destructive. Its seems to be a crippling side effect of the obsessions Silicon Valley is so eager to promote. It's takes variety and purposeful breaks sometimes to complete anything big. I don't have renewed energy yet, but I think I will soon... if I just let myself explore. Eventually whatever I build will be a representation of that hopeful exploration, and that spirit is the most important part.
I've been working on something big, at least in my head, for over a year now. For the first six months my coworkers were skeptical at best and at worst, unsupportive and critical. But I pressed on because no one understood the vision, and no one would until I proved it possible. Then, after a tipping point, that mysterious market change where suddenly everything becomes clear, everyone went from critic to heaping hope, expectation, and almost desperation for the success of my project. A small scrappy idea went from nothing to 100m$ and success went from a few million users to demands for over 1 billion. And so with impossible expectations, I pressed on again. I began suffer constant tightness in my chest, visions of the void that kept me awake and wide eyed in terror, and anger. Deep down I knew this couldn't meet my or my peers expectations, at least not overnight.
After my cat died, it reminded me that all things end. And when something ends it's a chance to start something new. My panic and burnout was the realization I too would die, and this project is likely to be my biggest measurable contribution to humanity. I got on a plane and flew to nowhere in particular and just hung out for a few days. Then I came back and started to look for a new place to live.
Being frozen in the same position for a long time, working towards the same goal is self destructive. Its seems to be a crippling side effect of the obsessions Silicon Valley is so eager to promote. It's takes variety and purposeful breaks sometimes to complete anything big. I don't have renewed energy yet, but I think I will soon... if I just let myself explore. Eventually whatever I build will be a representation of that hopeful exploration, and that spirit is the most important part.