Written on 2024-01-14

2023 was a very difficult year for me. Perhaps, the hardest I’ve had as an adult. It opened with the appearance of flashes in my peripheral vision, and was shortly followed by needing to fire someone my cofounder and I had deeply believed in. It proceeded to a failed HackerNews launch, a lost-ness in the business, more health symptoms, and a parade of baffled doctors who couldn’t explain what was wrong with me.

By July I’d started a new relationship, my cofounder and I thought we’d identified the right direction for the business, we commenced work on a large new project in that direction, and user numbers were looking up. Yet the rest of the year was marred by little sleep, anxiety, personal- and business-life friction, more health issues, the new project failing to get the traction we’d hoped, and the surprise departure of two employees.

By Christmas, it was clear things weren’t working. The business direction we’d chosen wasn’t correct, I received feedback that my leadership style wasn’t working for the team, and it was becoming apparent that the romantic relationship wasn’t good for either of us. I felt overwhelmed, exhausted, and empty.

It is now Sunday, January 14, of the year 2024. We’re seriously contemplating a business pivot. My health issues remain unexplained. My romantic relationship has recently ended - not with shouting or screaming, but with aching sorrow as it’s clear we’re not right for each other despite caring deeply about one another.

It’s difficult not to feel victimized during these times. “Why is this happening to me? When will the suffering end?” But, the second is the wrong question and I know the answer to the first. These things are happening as a consequence of the choices I’ve made.

I’m forced to grapple with the business not working because of my choice to found a company on account of entrepreneurship being the closest thing to a Hero’s Journey I could imagine in our modern age.

I’m struggling with health issues because of poor decisions I’ve made taking care of my mental and physical health.

I’m forced to confront hard truths about my leadership style because I tried to lead, and because I know that ignoring the feedback - while comforting - is ultimately imprisoning.

I’m wrestling with the pain of a breakup because I had the courage to give myself completely to the relationship in hopes that it would be The One.

Feeling overwhelmed while driving during the holidays, I found myself shouting “I just want a normal life!” to an empty car. Yet I knew it was a lie as soon as I said it. The life choices I’ve made have me living out on the edge, away from normalcy, comfort, and safety. I don’t regret these choices; to the contrary, I’m proud of them.

And as I’ve been reflecting on the suffering I’ve been experiencing, allowing myself to feel how much it hurts, I’ve been waking up to how we’re all going through the same thing. Rich or poor, young or old, famous or unknown, alone or part of a large community… we’re all experiencing things that worry us, hopes that aren’t being met, friction with people we care for, and not as much care or love as we’d like. We’re all living on our own personal edges. We’re all trying and dreaming and falling short. We grow up and gain more power to shape our circumstances, but that power vanishes in the face of the implacable, inexorable might that is the universe, grinding along the chains of consequence.

Buddhism asserts that life is suffering. I used to dismiss this as a curiosity of an old religion, but I’m revisiting it with new perspective now: if I conceptualize 2023 as goals (happiness, success) not attained, I form my reality into one of lack and thereby create even more suffering. But if I accept hardship as the inevitable state of life, I can at least remove the self-induced pain brought on by an expectation unfulfilled. Given that my choices are aligned with where I want to go, maybe I can be grateful for the suffering that grows me into the man I want to be.

As I write this, it strikes me that accepting life as suffering is at odds with the American capitalistic viewpoint that happiness and sadness are lands: that with the right journey (or product, or bank account balance) you’ll permanently arrive at the Destination of Happiness. What might it look like for suffering and joy to be night and day - temporary and inevitable?

“When will this suffering end?” is the wrong question because any answer only creates false expectation about a destination to permanently arrive at. This metaphorical night will take as long as it takes, and then will come day, and night will inevitably follow once again.

This too shall pass. Maybe along the way I can bring a little light to others struggling with their own darkness.