You already know about the surgery. You probably also know that the first thing I was worried about when I came round was my college work, and that I’ve spent the recovery period insisting I’m fine while very clearly not being fine. I’m consistent, if nothing else.
What I’ve actually been doing
The plan, loosely, was to rest.
The reality, per GitHub: 567 commits across 30 repositories throughout April – the surgery was on the 17th, so a significant chunk of those came after. Eight new repositories created. Another 40 commits in the first four days of May, spread across the monorepo, my Nix configuration, the website, the docsite. All of it necessary. None of it restful.
I also wrote two blog posts and a rant about online spelling at some indeterminate hour of the morning while running on what I can only describe as polyphasic despair. That one you may have read.
I went back to college a week and a half after brain surgery, because I’m in the final stretch and the catch-up work wasn’t going to do itself. I want to be clear that I am aware this was not a sensible decision nor one I wanted. I made it anyway. Reluctantly.
The burnout part
All of this is for fun. That’s the whole motivation – I don’t have a job, I’m not getting paid, nobody is waiting on a deadline. It’s just stuff I build because I enjoy building it.
The problem with that is that after a long enough time, the absence of anything external starts to weigh on you. No structure, no stakes, no clear sense that any of it matters beyond the fact that you made it. And then you add in the knowledge that people actually use some of these packages – that there are real users who depend on things you shipped – and the enjoyment starts to curdle into anxiety. I felt genuinely awful when I released something before it was ready earlier this year. That kind of thing lingers.
There’s also the fact that I’m in the last few weeks of college, which means the world of work is no longer an abstract future concern but a near-term one, bearing down at speed. That carries its own particular weight.
And then there are other things going on, closer to home, that I’m not going to detail here. They’re significant. They don’t help.
All of that, plus the surgery, plus going back too soon, plus the sleep deprivation, plus the pace I’ve been keeping. It adds up. The itch to build is still there. The reason to scratch it has become harder to locate.
That’s the burnout. Not dramatic. Just the slow deflation of doing something purely for its own sake for long enough, under enough pressure, that you’ve temporarily lost the thread of why you started.
The break part
So. Break. Proper one, this time.
I’m writing this at 9 in the morning, a half-hour before I have to go and do IT coursework, which is software development by another name. The irony is not lost on me. Some announcements have better timing than others.
Everything will be where I left it when I come back, which is one of the genuinely comforting things about software: it doesn’t go anywhere. Unlike me, who has to go to college.
I’ll be back when I’m actually ready to be back.