All my life, I’ve always felt the pressure to succeed and the need to hurry up, feeling like I was behind everybody else. Feeling like I needed to make more money, have more likes, more views, and be successful now. Always so desperate to be successful straight away, so I could justify my existence to me and others, and prove that I wasn’t just a waste of breath…
But lately, something has changed… I am feeling now that I want to… Slow down…
Navigating the Pressure to Succeed
I’ve already talked about this a bit on my previous posts, but during my childhood and 20s, I felt trapped every day.
I was caught in a cycle of emotional abuse and every day felt like I needed to walk on eggshells, with harsh words thrown at me that cut very deep, leaving invisible wounds. Every day felt unsafe and every day I wanted to leave.
I was honestly in a very dark place back then, and having any sort of stability was nearly impossible. So, everyone around me was miles ahead—building careers, buying homes, starting families, and living lives that looked so put together. Meanwhile, I felt as if I was standing still while the rest of the world raced ahead.
That feeling of being “behind” was crushing. I felt inferior, as if I wasn’t good enough or working hard enough. It didn’t matter how much effort I put in; it felt like nothing could bridge the gap between me and other people.
Every achievement my peers shared was like a spotlight on everything I thought I lacked. I was of course happy for them, but it reminded me of where I thought I should be. I couldn’t help but compare myself, and each comparison made me feel smaller, like I was failing at life simply because I wasn’t on the same timeline.
I wanted so desperately “make it”, to be successful so I could live my life on my own terms, but no matter what I did, it never felt like enough.
I constantly battled with the feeling that I was a waste of breath. I felt like I had to prove to everyone, including myself, that I had to justify my existence, like I wasn’t allowed to simply be. If I wasn’t doing something “important,” then I was just a burden, taking up space for no reason at all.
Understanding the Pressure to Succeed
Nevertheless, despite trying so hard, I could never seem to achieve any sort of success.
Hating normal “jobs” and imposed routines
Due to living in this toxic and unstable environment, and also due to some disabilities I didn’t know I had at the time, having consistent work was very difficult, which made incredibly difficult gain the stability and resources I needed to start or continue any personal or professional project.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to have my own business—not because I was particularly drawn to entrepreneurship itself, but because I needed the freedom to create my own routine.
I’ve always found it difficult to hold down a “normal” job, especially ones with unpredictable schedules because my body and mind require a structured daily routine to function properly, plus plenty of time to recover afterward due to some of my disabilities. But most jobs available to me were shift-based, with ever-changing hours that threw off my rhythm completely.
Mornings, for example, are rough. I usually need at least two hours to fully wake up and adjust to the day. If I’m forced to deal with noise or bright light immediately after waking up, I’ll often end up with a headache that lingers for the rest of the day. A rushed morning doesn’t just make me uncomfortable—it makes the entire day miserable.
And it’s not just about mornings. Long work hours with little recovery time meant I was constantly exhausted, unable to recharge properly before the next shift. The cycle of working, barely recovering, and then being thrown into another unpredictable schedule made everything feel impossible to sustain.
On top of that, I’ve always had a strong resistance to being told what to do—something that, as I later realized, is part of my demand avoidance (a trait linked to my autism), because I like to figure things out on my own, at my own pace. I rarely ask for help, and when I do, it’s only because I really need it—and usually only from people I trust.
So, the structure of a “normal” job clashed with me on almost every level. The changing shifts, the long hours, the lack of autonomy—it all felt suffocating. No matter how much I wanted success, forcing myself into that environment was like trying to fit into a mould that was never made for me.
I would always burnout and quit too early. I didn’t believe I was good enough to “make it”
So of course, all these conditions meant that I was always pushing myself too hard to hurry up and “make it” so I could escape my reality.
I was constantly feeling guilty whenever I took a break or did anything else. Every moment spent resting felt like wasting time, like I wasn’t doing enough.
On top of that, I have a very black-and-white way of thinking. In my mind, if I didn’t see some sort of success right away, it meant I wasn’t cut out for it at all. There was no in-between. So, instead of seeing struggles and slow progress as part of the process, I saw them as proof that I should quit. I’d convince myself it was just not the kind of person that can “make it” and quit—long before I ever gave myself a real chance.
I was constantly trying to copy others, trying to walk their own path instead of mine
Something else I believed at the time is that success had a formula—one that had already been figured out by others. So, instead of carving my own path, I kept trying to follow in the footsteps of people who had made it.
So, I kept chasing formulas, step by step plans others had created. But no matter how much I copied their approach, it never quite worked for me. And looking back, they could had never work for me or my situation.
The problem was, their path wasn’t mine. What worked for them didn’t work for me. I was feeling scattered and directionless. I had no clear vision, no sense of identity in my work. But I was too afraid to trust my own instincts, too scared that if I did things my way, I would turn against me.
For years, I felt pressure to do things “the right way”—to follow unspoken rules just to be seen as acceptable. I worried that if I didn’t fit into a neatly defined box, I’d be rejected.
So, I held back. I filtered myself, trying to be the person I was “supposed” to be. But in doing that, I silenced my real voice.
But Now I Am Not in Such a Hurry Anymore
Flash forward to now, while I am still not exactly where I want to be in life, things are… different… Better…
1. I allow myself to just be me
I’m learning to allow myself to just be me.
I want to be successful creating something that aligns with who I am. The people I admire got to where they are by doing things their own way. It’s time I do the same.
That means embracing all parts of myself, even the ones I used to fight against. My slow mornings. My need for structure on my terms. My dislike for traditional jobs. The way I process things at my own pace. None of these are flaws. They’re just me.
Instead of pushing myself to work in ways that drain me, I’m figuring out how to build a life that works with me. Success isn’t about changing myself to fit the world—it’s about shaping my world to fit me.
Now, I realize that true connection comes from showing up as I really am—without trying to mould myself into something more palatable. Not everyone will resonate with what I create, and that’s okay. The right people will.
I’m learning to stop chasing external approval. I’m giving myself the freedom to create what feels true to me, to express myself honestly, and to trust that the people who are meant to connect with my work will find it. And that’s enough.
2. Slow progress is still progress
I am learning that slow progress is still progress.
I am only human; I can only do so much. Creative work takes time. Making a game it’s damn difficult. And this is going to take a long time.
Slow progress doesn’t mean I’m not good enough. Doesn’t mean I lack talent. It doesn’t mean anything, mind you! It’s just part of the progress, and dare I say, how it’s supposed to be.
So, I keep reminding myself, slow progress is still progress. Just do a bit every time, rest when you need to and memento mori. Don’t take things so seriously, enjoy while you can.
3. I allow myself to fail
I am learning to allow myself to fail.
I’m aware that, despite all my passion, effort, and hard work, I might still fail and never reach the level of success I’ve envisioned. And while that reality stings, I’m learning to be okay with it.
I’m learning that failure doesn’t mean I am incompetent—it’s just part of the process, as cliché as it sounds. Failure isn’t a reflection of my worth or ability; it’s simply a step along the way to growth. The most successful people I admire didn’t get there by avoiding failure; they got there by learning from it, adapting, and trying again.
Trying, not accomplishing it, and learning from it, really works. It’s the scientific method, after all: trial and error. The best—and arguably the only—way to achieve a goal.
Now, I learning to see failure as experimenting—an opportunity to learn and figure something out, rather than the end of the road. It’s a chance to pivot, adjust, and keep moving forward. And even if I don’t achieve everything I dream of, I’ll have no regrets. At least I tried, and that’s worth something in itself.
Conclusion
So, that’s where I am right now.
I’m still figuring things out, still learning to be patient with myself, still reminding myself that my worth isn’t tied to how fast I succeed, or if I succeed at all.
As a side note, I am currently working on the vertical slice of my game (AKA demo) after working on a short prototype for a few months. What you’re seeing on the video at the top is the making of the 3D model of Jane, the protagonist of my game. This is the 5th version and hopefully the last! I am liking a lot how she’s turning out, as I think this design goes much better with her personality than the previous ones.
I plan to finish this demo sometime this year, but you know how things go, creative projects always take much longer than expected, so we’ll see…
If you’ve made it this far, thank you. Really. It means a lot that you took the time to listen to my thoughts. If anything I shared resonated with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Have you ever felt this pressure to “hurry up” and succeed? How did you deal with it? I’m very curious. Let me know in the comments. I’d love to have a real conversation about this.
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And with that said, thanks again for being here. Take care of yourself, and I’ll see you in the next one.
