Man, November 2017, I remember it pretty well. It was one of those times where I felt a bit floaty, you know? Like, I had all these ideas swirling around my head, but I just couldn’t quite grab onto one. It was a bit misty, like I was moving through a fog, and I just needed something to really sink my teeth into, to get grounded. I was feeling like I needed a new outlet, something to actually build, not just dream about.
That’s when the bug bit me. I decided I was finally going to get my own little corner of the internet. Not just a social media profile, but a proper space, a blog, where I could just dump my thoughts, share what I was tinkering with, maybe even put up some of my design experiments. I figured it would be a piece of cake. I mean, people do it all the time, right? Just pick a name, throw up some words, and boom, you’re a blogger. I totally pictured myself cranking out content, like, two posts a week, easy peasy. That was my big expectation: effortless sharing, instant connection, all that jazz. I was super hyped, thinking about all the cool stuff I’d share, all the simple processes I’d outline for others.
Oh, boy, was I ever wrong. The process, man, it was a real grind from the get-go. First off, I spent probably two solid weeks just trying to pick a platform. Should I go with something super simple? Or something more powerful like WordPress? I watched a gazillion YouTube videos, read countless articles, comparing features, trying to figure out what theme looked good, what plugins I’d need. My head was spinning. Every time I thought I made a decision, I’d see something else and second-guess myself. It felt like I was stuck in quicksand, just churning through options.
Then, after finally settling on a plan, I moved onto the actual setup. This was where the real headaches began. Getting a domain name, then tying it to a hosting service? That felt like trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube blindfolded. I swear, I messed up the DNS settings so many times, my site wouldn’t load for days. I was constantly hitting refresh, clearing caches, calling up support lines, just getting more and more frustrated. I remember one evening, around 2 AM, I was staring at a blank screen, the “site can’t be reached” message mocking me, and I just wanted to throw my laptop out the window. It was pure agony, just trying to connect these digital pieces.
Once the technical stuff was somewhat sorted, I moved onto the actual writing part. This was supposed to be the fun bit, right? Sharing my insights! But when I actually sat down, it was like my brain just shut off. I’d open a fresh draft, stare at the blinking cursor, and absolutely nothing. My mind would just go blank. All those brilliant ideas I had while dreaming? Poof, gone. I’d write a paragraph about a coding challenge I’d just finished, read it back, and it sounded like a robot wrote it. Deleted. Tried again. Deleted again. It was a constant battle, trying to make my words sound natural, engaging, like I actually knew what I was talking about. I wanted to share my journey, but getting it out of my head and onto the page felt impossible.
I distinctly recall trying to document a tricky bug fix I’d spent a week on. I thought it would be a straightforward “how-to.” Instead, I spent three evenings just struggling with the introduction, trying to convey the initial despair before the breakthrough. It was a struggle to make it not sound like a dull technical manual. I ended up pouring way more time into each post than I ever anticipated. My initial records, which were just me jotting down post ideas and estimated times, quickly became a log of how many hours I actually wasted staring at a screen, procrastinating.
Eventually, I did get a few posts out there, proudly hitting that “publish” button. But it wasn’t the steady stream of content I’d envisioned. It was more like sporadic bursts of effort, followed by weeks of silence. What I expected was this smooth, easy flow, sharing my journey as it unfolded. What I got was a gritty, messy learning curve, a constant fight against technical hurdles and my own self-doubt. It really hammered home the difference between a cool idea and the brute force effort needed to actually bring it to life.
That whole experience, starting that blog back in November 2017, it actually changed how I approach things now. Whenever I get a new idea, especially something that seems straightforward on the surface, I brace myself. I know it’s going to be way more complicated, take way more time, and demand way more grit than I initially think. It taught me patience, and more importantly, it taught me to respect the process, the messy middle, and the fact that sometimes, you just gotta keep pushing even when you want to quit. It was a real eye-opener, showing me that the gap between expectation and reality can be huge, but crossing it is where the real learning happens.
