When I was younger, I couldn’t let go of anything I made.
I’d finish a design and then just… keep looking at it.
Tweak this, fix that, move a pixel, come back later, fix it again.
Obsess over tiny things no one would ever notice.
Why?
Because if my work sucked, I sucked.
It felt personal. Like this is me.
And if people didn’t like it?
Then maybe they didn’t like me.
But over time (and many breakdowns later), I’ve learned this:
You are not your work.
Your design, your code, your writing — whatever — it’s not you.
It came through you. But it’s not you.
You made a thing. That’s amazing.
But then… let it go.
Release it.
Walk away.
Don’t sit there refreshing.
Don’t read every comment twice.
Don’t spiral.
Don’t tweak it into oblivion.
Just make the next thing.
What I started to realize
Every time I held on too tight, I was doing it out of fear.
Fear that I’d never make anything better.
Fear that I’d already peaked.
Fear that someone would finally figure out I didn’t actually know what I was doing.
But clinging to the last thing only made it worse.
The magic doesn’t live in one perfect project. It lives in the momentum.
The more I kept moving, the more I made, the less pressure I put on each thing.
And weirdly enough, that’s when better work started happening — when I stopped trying to prove something with every post, every pixel, every sentence.
The work got lighter. I got braver.
Why this even matters
Because holding on too tight makes you scared.
Scared to try weird ideas.
Scared to suck.
Scared people will finally see you and go, “Oh. Not that great.”
But here’s something that shook me:
You’re not that project you’re still thinking about.
You’re not the one that blew up.
You’re not the one that flopped either.
You are whatever you make next.
What I do now (or try to, anyway)
I finish things. I ship them.
Some do well. Some disappear into the void.
Some get shared. Some get ignored.
And yeah, sometimes it stings.
But I try not to let it get in too deep.
Because the point isn’t making the perfect thing.
It’s just… making something.
And then making something else tomorrow.
Your work has to leave you to actually live.
So yeah — let it go.
Even if it’s not perfect.
Especially if it’s not.
You’re already making the next thing anyway, right?
