Resilience

There are days when I find myself completely unable to do anything productive because I’m trapped in a very negative, depressive state of mind. I’ve noticed that external triggers often amplify these feelings—if someone criticizes me and I sense there’s truth to it, it can hit me hard. I’ll retreat deep inside myself, erasing any ideas and motivation from my thoughts. On top of that, I become extremely self-critical, turning everything in my life into a disaster—or at least convincing myself that it’s a disaster and that I’m worthless.

In those moments, I can’t even escape through hobbies like writing or drawing. Instead, a sort of darkness overtakes me, paralyzing any sense of positivity, and I end up viewing the world around me through a harsh, cynical lens.While these feelings may sound familiar to some, I’m fortunate in that I can often break free by changing my surroundings or simply letting time pass.

After a while, the negative energy tends to get replaced by a more measured perspective, and little by little, I manage to pull myself out of that awful swamp of self-defeat.What usually follows are lighter, more positive stretches—thankfully—along with a renewed sense of optimism, energy, enthusiasm, patience, and creative inspiration.

However, going through these cycles feels like being a shaken-up bottle. I never quite know where I stand, and I find myself swinging from one extreme to the other. The only comforting thought is that it does eventually pass and, for a time, I end up in a better place.This isn’t exactly new for me. I’ve experienced these ups and downs since at least my late teens, around the age of 17.It’s easy to withdraw into yourself when you don’t have to shoulder the responsibilities of a family you’ve built and love.

Love truly is the greatest gift I’ve been able to nurture and experience. But I can’t say the same for the family I didn’t choose—the one that shaped who I am today, but from which I’ve distanced myself, for better or worse. There are some roads we simply don’t want to revisit, out of fear they’ll reopen old wounds we’re not prepared to face.Unfortunately, many of us realize far too late just how much our childhood influences the adults we become.

I can’t help feeling some bitterness when I see how I’m still dealing with damage caused by adults who, looking back, were less responsible than I would have hoped. In a way, I was accustomed to extremes from a young age, and I’m learning—slowly but surely—to accept them in my life and to handle them with a bit more nuance. Since I’m not above blame or guilt myself, I’m also learning to be more forgiving of other people’s extremes, especially when they’re beyond my control. Some influences lift us up; others drag us down and fill us with anger because they leave us little say in the matter.

In the end, what truly matters is recognizing that these spells of darkness, overwhelming as they may feel, are neither permanent nor definitive of who we are. Each low point offers an opportunity to better understand our emotional triggers, to establish healthier boundaries, and to rediscover our inner resilience. And when the fog finally lifts, we emerge stronger, more compassionate toward ourselves, and better prepared to navigate whatever challenges lie ahead.

Soulless code

Code isn’t just a tool—it’s a reflection of the coder’s mind, a part of their soul turned into logic. When I write code, it becomes mine. I take care of it, I understand it, I think about it. Even when I stop working, the code stays with me, like a thought I can’t let go. It feels alive, like something I’ve created, something that matters.

But when the code comes from an LLM or someone else, it’s different. I might use it, but I don’t really make it mine. I don’t take the time to fully understand it. I let others—or the machine—do the hard work. And often, it feels easier to just start over or forget it.

This kind of code feels distant, like it has no home. It’s less work for me, and that can feel good, like letting go of something heavy. But at the same time, it feels empty—like something is missing.

Maybe when we stop owning our code, we lose more than just control. Maybe we lose a piece of what makes coding human.

// Functionally correct. Morally bankrupt.  
// Just like the rest of us.

Writing

Today is international logic day, and I really want to read logicomix comic strip someone offered me for Christmas.

I realize as a logician that I can perfectly organize some stuff and as ADHD I feel completely stuck with some tasks yet to have my attention drained by completely unrelated events.

Often the fix or the way to disconnect from my mental paralysis is to write, walk, climb, talk, tell, draw or code.

It's a form of calm expression of self, an escape from news, emails, todo lists, code problems, mental load and daily stress for all the code and life bugs I can't unsee.

Like this blog where I write without caring if anyone is reading, and with no other purpose but the act of writing.

Flow

  • Cannot really stop coding while in a task. Coding is fun.
  • Cannot really stop improving after solving a task. I'm in the flow and each improvement unlocks another.
  • Cannot really stop bug fixing before solving it. Interruption is frustrating and I need to kill this problem.

Related

Continuous improvement is addictive because of the desire to reach perfection and repair the broken window (cfr Broken window theory).

Thanks to Vincent L. for the thoughts that inspired this blog.

Make your own universe

A good house is one you have contributed to build or improve.

A good version control system has a good UX and you are done learning it in your first day. Git is far behind.

A good static site generator should not force you to read hundred documentation page beyond HTML/CSS.

A good service or platform or social media is one you do not fear to lose access to.

A good blogging platform is not one for which you pay thousands dollars for a CSS transition effect.

A good game engine is one you understand very well and can optimize to your needs.

A good CI or build script is the one you own and maintain.

An awesome meal is one you cook.

A perfect blog post is one you write without help, without filter, without caring about comments.

Everything you will build yourself is awesome, because it is unique and not forced by anyone.

I wish you an imperfect but awesome new year!