Tuesday was supposed to be progress day. My learning block. The one day carved out each week for moving my AI and Python projects forward. No work calls, no appointments, no distractions. Just me, the keyboard, and the next small step on my news scraper.
Except nothing happened.
I sat down, opened the files, stared at the screen, and twenty minutes passed before I realized I hadn’t typed a word. No ideas, no spark, not even frustration. Just that heavy stillness that makes it hard to breathe.
I kept thinking, come on, you’ve done this before, just start. But nothing in me wanted to. I was tired in a way that sleep doesn’t fix. My phone kept calling to me. Every scroll made the guilt worse.
Eventually I gave up pretending and admitted the truth. I wasn’t going to get anything done that day.
Here’s what actually happened.
What Tuesday Actually Looked Like
I sat in my chair, feeling like someone had set a brick on my chest. The guilt hit immediately. I’d blocked this time when I first started this journey. Tuesdays are learning days.
I’d traded hours with my wife. I’d promised myself I’d use this time to build something that mattered. Instead, I was scrolling my phone, wasting it.
At first, I told myself I’d get back to it in five minutes. Then ten. Then I was still sitting there half an hour later, justifying why I couldn’t focus. I’m exhausted. I didn’t sleep last night. Maybe I’ll just take a break.
Eventually, I stopped fighting it.
I got up, walked away, and decided to spend the rest of the day with my wife. Later, I went to play cards with friends. It was the first time in months that I’d done anything for myself. I’ve been neglecting that part of my life. The part that feels alive when I’m not producing something.
At first it felt like failure. Like I’d let everyone down, including myself. But when I finally gave myself permission to rest, the pressure eased. The world didn’t collapse. The guilt softened into something else. Relief.
Still, that relief came with a shadow. Because I knew deep down this wasn’t just a bad day. Something in my system had been cracking for a while and this week I had to face it fully.
Why It Hit Different This Time
This wasn’t the first rough day. But it was the first one that stopped me cold.
For eighteen weeks, I’ve shown up. Eighteen weeks of posting, learning, writing, pushing. All while working full time in a physical job, keeping a 4.0 GPA in my final college stretch, and managing a house with a chronically ill spouse and two daughters who deserve more than my leftovers.
Every week, I’ve found a way to make progress, even when it meant staying up late or skipping time with family.
But this week, the math stopped working. The trade offs felt wrong.
It’s not just the time anymore. It’s the weight of showing up publicly. The blog isn’t private journaling. It’s accountability in public view. Every missed post feels like proof I’m slipping.
When people build “in public,” it sounds admirable. But the reality is, there’s nowhere to hide when your mind and body finally demand rest.
Being honest, I’ve been running on commitment alone for the last couple of posts. But commitment doesn’t refill the tank. It just keeps you moving until you hit the wall. And I definitely hit it this week.
What made it worse was realizing what I’d sacrificed to get here. The weekly grind has eaten the little time I used to spend simply being present. With my wife, with my girls, with myself. I traded my recovery time for momentum. Now I’m seeing the cost.
This wasn’t burnout that creeps in quietly. This was the moment I looked at my screen and realized I couldn’t keep doing this pace and still be a whole person.
What I’m Sitting With Now
I’m not quitting. I need that on the record.
I still believe deeply in what I’m building here. The idea of documenting the process of learning AI, of making tech understandable, of building proof of work in real time. I still want to graduate strong. I still want to set my family up for something better.
But something about my approach has to change.
I don’t know what yet. I’ve been thinking about shifting to bi-weekly posts, but even that feels like a surface fix. What I really need to face is the mindset underneath. The constant push to turn every bit of learning into content, every week into output.
Right now, I’m sitting with the discomfort of not knowing. I’m trying to listen to what this week is telling me instead of rushing to patch it. Maybe the lesson isn’t about efficiency or strategy. Maybe it’s about permission. To slow down, to feel tired, to be human inside a system that rewards endless motion.
So… sorry. This week, there’s no new tool, no lesson, no project update. Just honesty.
What Building in Public Really Looks Like
This is the part most people skip. The messy middle. The week where nothing moves forward and everything feels heavier than it should.
If you’re following along, this is what building in public actually looks like sometimes. It’s not polished progress reports and tidy reflections. It’s exhaustion, self doubt, and small choices that keep you from quitting entirely.
Next week, I’m going to take a break. I’m not going to feel guilty about it. Then, something is going to change. I’m not sure exactly what yet, but something will and I’ll follow up in the next post.
For now, I’m just here. Showing up, still trying to figure out what “sustainable” really means.
What about you? How do you know when to push through and when to adjust?
