01

I've always thought of myself as someone who can't stop moving.

Over the past few months of indie development, I've been running at full intensity nearly every day — waking up thinking about the project, going to bed reviewing what I could have done better.

Until yesterday, when one sentence from my doctor stopped me in my tracks.

02

Yesterday afternoon, I went to see my doctor.

Why?

I noticed recently that I couldn't stand even slightly loud sounds — they'd make my heart race and my whole body feel uneasy, like nails on a chalkboard. Watching videos on a screen for more than three to five minutes would make me dizzy.

I described my symptoms to a doctor I trust deeply, someone who knows my health history well. She checked my tongue and pulse, then said: "You need to nourish your liver blood." How? Spend less time looking at screens — ideally, none at all.

Since we all make a living in front of computers, I anxiously asked: can't I just take medicine to speed it up? She looked at me seriously and said, "Liver blood can only be restored slowly. If you take proper care of yourself for two to three months, you'll feel much better."

She didn't even suggest prescribing medication. (A doctor with genuine integrity.)

So I went home.

03

On the way back, I felt terrible — somewhere between frustration and grief. I couldn't accept it.

On one hand, I'm 33. These are supposed to be my prime years for building. But now I need to spend months resting? Everyone else is working hard, and I'm supposed to just... take it easy? The guilt hit immediately.

On the other hand, I have a mountain of things to do — projects to build, marketing to push. Every single task requires staring at a screen. Resting means cutting my work hours. It felt like watching my best years slip away.

The more I thought about it, the more frustrated I got.

But as I kept walking, I suddenly calmed down.

I knew — if I don't rest now, I'll have to rest later. And I was planning to keep pushing through this period. The longer I delay, the higher the cost.

Spend two to three months now, or spend even more time and money later. The math isn't hard.

Then I realized something deeper.

I'd been lying to myself for a long time: "I'll rest properly once I make money." "I'll take care of my health once the project is stable." "I'll deal with it after this busy stretch."

But looking at my reality since starting indie dev, I face new problems every single day.

And even if things do get better someday, would I really stop? Absolutely not.

Because after making money, I'd want to explore even more. My curiosity is endless.

Curiosity leads to problems, problems keep appearing, and the cycle never ends. There's simply no natural stopping point. And if I keep going like this, one day my body will break down — costing far more time and money to fix.

It's inevitable. Keep burning without ever maintaining, and no body can hold up forever.

So I realized: when it comes to health, there's no time to wait.

04

Since resistance is pointless and the consequences are serious, I figured I might as well try acceptance.

Accept that my current state isn't great. Accept that my energy is low. Accept that I need to slow down right now.

No resistance. No anxiety. Just face it honestly.

Today, I actually did it. I prepared some paper notebooks — for thinking, for journaling, for planning. I moved my daily planning and reflections partly from Notion to pen and paper, carrying a notebook with me everywhere.

When I need to work, I open my laptop and focus. The rest of the time, I put down the screen. My phone usage dropped from over three hours a day to under one. At lunch, I actually rested — no scrolling while lying down like before.

By the end of the day, I felt so much better than recent weeks. No dizziness. No restlessness.

Turns out, your body responds when you start treating it with care.

05

Acceptance isn't surrender. Nothing is "mandatory" or "should be." I am my own guide — if something feels wrong, I don't push through.

Accepting that I'm not in great shape right now. Accepting that I need to slow down. Accepting that my body is saying "enough" — this isn't weakness. It's clarity.

We're always too hard on ourselves.

We think stopping is wasteful, slowing down means falling behind, and taking care of ourselves is selfish.

But the truth is, accepting who you are right now is what gives you the strength to keep going.

Have you been fighting against your own state too?

Maybe today is the day to stop and just accept yourself as you are.