The Art of Sustaining Momentum in an Unstable World

The Great Illusion of "Stability"

During my years as a strategy consultant, I was always running toward a "finished state." I believed that once a project ended, a report was approved, or a client was satisfied, I would finally find stability. But standing alone in the vast wilderness as a solo developer, I’ve realized a hard truth: a "stable state" simply doesn't exist.

In the beginning, I thought this anxiety was just a temporary symptom. I believed that once the service launched, users started coming in, or revenue was generated, the fog of uncertainty would lift and stay away. But it didn't. Crossing one mountain only revealed a taller, steeper one. Stability isn't something that eventually arrives; instability is the default setting of this journey.

From "Enduring" to "Maintaining the Flow"

I used to think that "holding on" meant gritting my teeth, cutting back on sleep, and pushing myself to the limit to survive the storm. But this kind of endurance was incredibly draining. By the time the storm finally passed, my energy was depleted, and I didn't even have the strength to stand back up.

So, I changed my strategy. Now, instead of desperately trying to "endure," I focus on "maintaining my own rhythm." It’s not about building an impenetrable fortress in the storm; it’s about creating a flexible way of moving that doesn't break when things shake. Instead of trying not to fall, my new survival skill is creating a "momentum of daily life" that keeps my day moving forward regardless of the weather.

Giving Up on the Mirage of a "Perfect Day"

The perfectionism I inherited from my consulting days was a fatal poison for me as a solo developer. For a long time, I was obsessed with the "perfect day"—waking up at a set time, finishing a set amount of work, and having everything go exactly according to plan. But life is full of variables. Unexpected server errors, sudden API updates, or simply a lack of motivation will inevitably disrupt the plan.

In the past, even a small deviation would make me feel like the whole day was "ruined," leading to a domino effect of self-blame that destroyed the next day too. But now, I’ve given up on the perfect day. Instead, I’ve lowered the bar to the floor:

• "Did I at least sit down at my desk today?"
• "Did I make even a tiny bit of progress on a feature or UI?"
• "Did I keep the momentum going without completely stopping?"

If I satisfy these three, the day is a success. By lowering the bar, the chance of failure decreased, and paradoxically, those small successes built a greater drive. I’ve learned that the most powerful thing isn't perfection; it’s unbroken consistency.

Trusting the "Frame" Instead of Emotions

Working alone, there are many days when I want to postpone work because I "don't feel like it" or feel discouraged. I was the same. But emotions are too volatile to be a reliable guide. If you move based on how you feel, you’ll burn out when you’re high and sink deep when you’re low.

So, I removed "emotion" from my work process and replaced it with a "solid frame."

• Set Time: Sitting down at the desk regardless of mood.
• Set Flow: A morning routine (coffee, a brief hello to Daon and Bao) that signals the start.
• Set Beginning: Starting with the smallest, easiest task to get the gears turning.

It’s not about waiting for motivation; it’s about putting yourself inside a pre-made frame and letting motivation catch up. Once this personal system was in place, things started getting done steadily, even when my internal state was unstable.

"Intentional Pausing" is Part of My Plan

A machine that only runs will eventually burn out. I used to view stopping as "defeat" or "quitting." But unplanned stopping leads straight to burnout. Now, I’ve incorporated the act of stopping as a core part of my daily design.

This isn't a "breakdown" from exhaustion; it’s an "intentional pause" to catch my breath for the next leap. My afternoon walks with Daon and Bao, or a day completely away from my work, are essential parts of my architecture. When the time to stop is pre-determined, focus during work hours actually increases. The certainty that "I can rest after this time" becomes the force that sustains me through unstable moments.

Managing Instability, Not Removing It

I am still anxious. I can't be certain if my current efforts will lead to global success or what my life will look like six months from now. But I no longer try to remove that anxiety. Anxiety is the strongest evidence that I am challenging myself with something new.

The key isn't finding a stable environment; it’s having your own way of moving without shaking, even in an unstable environment. Just as a sailor can't remove the waves, a builder can't remove uncertainty. We simply build a sturdier ship and learn the skill of moving with the waves.

In the End, the One Who Continues Wins

What sustained me through unstable times wasn't a grand resolution; it was the "small promises I kept to myself." The routines that catch me when I stumble, the habits that move me when my emotions hit rock bottom, and the low standards that keep me going even when things aren't perfect. All of these together form my own survival mechanism.

Stability isn't a gift from your environment; it’s a result of the frame you build for your life. I still stand in the unstable wilderness today, but I prepare for my next step calmly within my own rhythm. I believe that what remains in the end aren't flashy ideas, but the "unabandoned hours" of someone who pushed through until they saw results.