Empty Building

I’ve started to notice my stomach bunch up when I come across #BuildInPublic hashtags, or see people throw around phrases like:

• “Forget everything else. Just get out there and build.”
• “It’s all about building cool stuff together.”
• “The future belongs to the builders.”
• “Stop talking. Start building.”
• “So much to build, so little time.”

At first, I wasn’t totally sure why I grimace at this stuff. I like building things. I get paid to build things. That’s a fortunate combination I do not take for granted.

It think it’s because the whole endeavor comes off as very empty if it’s just about building for the sake of building. I’m made to feel like a machine whose value is to produce, and who’s cursed to fall behind if I don’t — a fear especially pervasive in a technical field. 

A lot of this probably stems from falling prey to lies like that earlier in my career. There’s a lot of dopamine to be squeezed out of building software. I vividly remember the feeling of customizing the CSS of my Blogger theme, the first time I used hooks in WordPress, and making a box slide open with jQuery. I felt like I had tapped into a power few others have, and it felt good to wield it. 

So, I built a lot of stuff — 137 versions of my blog, WordPress plugins, little JavaScript libraries, and other digital widgets. It was satisfying. Some of the things I built were useful, but others were just for show. Regardless, that wasn't what kept me going. It was more primal than anything else. I was pulled by the promise of another dopamine hit, and pushed by the fear of becoming irrelevant if I didn’t keep it up. It was exhausting. It felt like I was running on some nihilistic hamster wheel. None of it mattered, but I couldn’t seem to stop.

Your soul catches onto that garbage after a while. You start to bend under the pressure of constantly thinking about the next thing you need build to maintain your influence; to earn your keep in the industry. You start to realize that every minute spent "building cool stuff" was one less spent on anything else important, and the exchange rates are very different. A week in the evenings spent building will never yield the same impact as lying a few minutes longer next to your daughter before she goes to sleep, being present with your wife, or slowing down to sit with Scripture.

It’s sucks to come to that realization too late, although I do wonder if it ever would’ve happened if I hadn’t been ensnared by those lies to begin with. It’s too bad that life’s biggest perspective shifts often only come by the consequences of misplaced obsessions. I suppose there’s a gift in that. 

I still love building things, and I don’t feel guilty for enjoying the dopamine hit when something’s finally shipped. But I like to think I’m getting better at demanding clarity of purpose before committing to anything, and understanding the tradeoffs  before diving in & slinging internet tubes around. My time and affection have to yield something other than brain chemicals and affirmation that I’m “one of the builders,” which doesn’t even mean anything to me anymore.

I consider this very much a “me” problem, by the way. Not everyone is so prone to becoming enslaved by their ability to make stuff. They’re somehow able to order their affections more effectively. I envy them for that. With some time & practice, I hope I’m able to reignite a passion to build stuff that doesn’t come at the expense of more lasting things worth building.