For the past few months, my life revolved around two personal missions:
Losing weight.& Completing a coding project that had haunted me with errors, bugs, and endless nights of troubleshooting.
During the day, I was meal prepping, tracking macros, and staying committed to clean eating even when cravings hit or laziness kicked in.
At
night, when most people were winding down, I was staring at lines of
code, hunting elusive bugs, and trying to understand why an error that
didn’t exist yesterday was suddenly ruining everything.
I kept telling myself, “Once I hit my goal weight… once I get this app working end-to-end… I’ll finally feel proud, fulfilled, complete.”
Eventually, I got there.
I lost 10 kilos.
I launched the app I had been building for months.
The code was clean, the compliments came in, and for the first time in a long while, I liked what I saw in the mirror.
I thought hitting my goals would unlock some kind of lasting euphoria.
But instead, I woke up the next day and realized there was no big celebration. No background music. Just the same old me minus 10 kilos, and plus one finished project.
There was a silence I hadn’t prepared for.
The daily urgency that kept me focused was suddenly gone. No meal planning to obsess over. No critical bug to fix. Just… stillness. And in that stillness, something felt off.
When Progress Isn’t the Whole Story
I realized I had become addicted to the grind.
The daily friction choosing veggies over comfort food, choosing code over rest, had become my identity.
I kept telling myself, “Once I hit my goal weight… once I get this app working end-to-end… I’ll finally feel proud, fulfilled, complete.”
Eventually, I got there.
I lost 10 kilos.
I launched the app I had been building for months.
The code was clean, the compliments came in, and for the first time in a long while, I liked what I saw in the mirror.
I thought hitting my goals would unlock some kind of lasting euphoria.
But instead, I woke up the next day and realized there was no big celebration. No background music. Just the same old me minus 10 kilos, and plus one finished project.
There was a silence I hadn’t prepared for.
The daily urgency that kept me focused was suddenly gone. No meal planning to obsess over. No critical bug to fix. Just… stillness. And in that stillness, something felt off.
When Progress Isn’t the Whole Story
I realized I had become addicted to the grind.
The daily friction choosing veggies over comfort food, choosing code over rest, had become my identity.
And when it was over, I didn’t know what to do with myself.
I missed the pressure, the sense of climbing, and the feeling of purpose that came from striving.
So What Now?
Here’s what I’ve been learning since:
Take the win. Reflect on how far you’ve come. But don’t park there too long. Purpose is found not in arrival, but in motion.
Take the win. Reflect on how far you’ve come. But don’t park there too long. Purpose is found not in arrival, but in motion.
Now, it’s not just about staying at a number on the scale. It’s about feeling healthy, energetic, and strong.
In coding, it’s not just about shipping, it’s about learning, experimenting, and sometimes failing just to discover something new.
Not every day needs to be a grind. Not every moment has to be “productive.” Some days are for joy, rest, and slow breathing. That’s not laziness, that’s balance.
Finally, all I can say is if you've ever poured yourself into something for months, pushed your limits, gave up comforts, lost sleep, and then felt strangely empty when it all finally came together… I get it.
It doesn’t mean the win wasn’t real.
It just means you’re ready to grow again in a different direction.
The finish line isn’t the end. It’s just a new beginning.
Here’s to the grind, the stillness, and all the versions of ourselves we meet along the way.
Now that I’ve hit my weight goal, I’m in maintenance mode still tracking my food daily, still stepping on the scale, making sure I don’t undo all the work I’ve done. I spent months getting here, and the fear of slipping back is real.
With code, I’ve started building similar projects. Not because I need to anymore, but because… well, it’s become part of my identity. I don’t have to code late into the night but I still do. I fix things that aren’t broken. I build tools that no one asked for. Just for the sake of it.
And maybe that’s okay.
When the Hustle Becomes Habit
Somewhere along the way, the grind became my comfort zone.
It wasn’t just about weight or code; it was about discipline, consistency, and control. And while I’m proud of the outcome, I’ve come to realize that the journey itself is what really shaped me.
Now the challenge is different:
How do you stay consistent when there’s no urgency?
How do you find purpose when the big goals are already done?
What I’m Learning is that getting to your goal is one thing. Staying there is the real game. That takes patience, subtlety, and a different kind of discipline.
You don’t need a major launch or external pressure to build something cool. Sometimes, passion projects, even pointless ones, are the most fun.
You don’t always need a goal. Not every day has to be about progress. Some days are about balance, peace, and living without chasing anything.
If you've ever hit a long-awaited goal, whether in fitness, work, or life, and then felt this strange emptiness after… you're not alone.
That feeling doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you care. It means you poured yourself into something that mattered and now, you’re recalibrating.
This space? This silence? It’s the starting line for whatever’s next.
Here’s to the quiet wins. The maintenance mode. And building, just for the love of it.
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