It's a weird feeling...

I love coming up with ideas and picturing a future where the idea I come up with and the product I build can sustain me and my future family.

There's a lot of fun in letting yourself get lost in the idea and the implementation, almost entering your own little world and thinking about what could happen once this product is made and people start using it. But a nagging feeling keeps recurring. When I get to the point where I'm about to click the metaphorical “Go Live” button and take the next step to show people this thing I've made, there's apprehension and hesitancy every time.

It's like you're laying yourself bare in front of the internet for all to see, ready to be judged on whether or not you are worthy to exist in your current profession and who you are.

How toxic is that? There's a song I really enjoy because the lyrics are particularly relatable; it's called "Chronically Cautious." I relate to that song more than any other because it describes exactly how I am and the things I'm trying to combat.

Everything seems possible when you're making a product. Everything seems attainable until it comes time to actually go and achieve those things. There's a weird part of me that doesn't exist during the building, but comes out in full force when the building is winding down and it's time to acquire users.

Looking back, it's funny because it's not every time and it's not with everything. For example, I run a YouTube channel where I narrate thriller fiction stories and act as different characters, using different voices and mannerisms, really trying to bring these characters to life to make it engaging. In the beginning I was very hesitant to show people this because I wasn't sure if it would be good enough, and that was the kicker.

I was unsure if I would be good enough.

And over time you receive criticism. There will always be both valid and invalid criticism. It gets easier to deal with. In my experience, I receive a lot more positive feedback; more people enjoy my creations than those who don’t. When it comes to my YouTube channel, I don’t mind showing it or having people listen, even if it feels awkward. I know I’m good at what I do because others have validated it, and the same applies here.

I can’t let my own value be derived from how people perceive me or my creations. Everyone struggles with that, and I’m afraid someone will look at my app, which I think is really good, and dismiss it as useless. I’m subconsciously afraid of saying, “I built this thing that I think is cool,” only to have someone respond, “I don’t see it that way; I think it actually sucks.” I worry that such feedback will reflect on my worth in the field, making me feel I might not be able to exist in this field.

I know that's not right, and it's not the truth that a decoupling needs to happen, or at least a reframing.

Thankfully, this feeling isn't as strong as it used to be. Now it's a nagging remnant of a pattern or habit—something that doesn't control you, but you still feel it.

I think the only way to get over this is to “do what makes you afraid, do it scared.” I'm not scared per se, but I hesitate to show my product because I imagine a reality that has no evidence. The way to dismiss this feeling is to prove to myself that what I fear is just a fragment of a broken imagination.

If I want to build and release more things and enjoy the process, I owe it to myself to go through with it, find users for my app, and this applies to anything. I'm building something now, and it's reaching the point where I should find people to use it besides me, though a little hiccup arises: “wait, maybe let’s do something else.”

Anyways, it's a weird feeling.