A shit week and a busy week

I started writing down wins when things were shit.

Not mildly difficult.

Within about six months, I had to close most of the food and beverage businesses I was running. Almost everything was wiped out.

My days were creditors, lawyers, liquidators, and court appointments.

Then another call.

Then another problem.

Then more bad news.

At night, I was having panic attacks. Sometimes I listened to gratitude recordings just to interrupt what was happening in my head.

Eventually I realised nobody was coming to save me.

That was not inspiring.

It was just true.

So I gave myself one small thing to do at the end of each day.

Find something I had won at.

Sometimes I could only write:

Woke up.

Sometimes:

Had lunch.

That counted because plenty of days I did not have time for lunch.

Sometimes:

Played with my daughter.

That was a big one.

Writing those things down did not stop the creditors. It did not settle anything with the lawyers or liquidators. It did not change what might happen in court.

The day was still shit.

But the shit parts could no longer erase the entire day.

There was a record.

This happened too.

I put the wins on a random Twitter account that was not connected to my name. I was not building an audience. Nobody really knew who I was.

I just needed somewhere to put them.

At first, finding even one win was difficult. Then I could see three. Sometimes five, ten, or fifteen.

Eventually I stopped.

I had made it through the period when I needed that record just to get through the day.

Then I needed it again for almost the opposite reason.

AI arrived and I became intensely productive.

I was building things, testing things, chasing ideas, burning through tokens and quotas, and finishing a ridiculous amount of work.

Then I would reach the end of the day and think:

What did I actually do?

My head had already moved on to the next ten things. A busy day felt empty. A productive week felt like I was behind.

So I went back to the same notebook.

During the shit year, it showed me that an awful day was not entirely awful.

During the busy year, it showed me that constant activity had produced actual progress.

The facts changed.

The problem was similar.

My head was deleting parts of the day.

Three is not a rule. Some days there is one win. Some days there are twenty. I can skip a day or disappear for two weeks.

Nothing happens.

There is no streak to break and nobody else needs to see it. It is private.

It is just a record.

Had lunch.

Played with my daughter.

Handled the creditors.

Spoke to the lawyers.

Shipped the project.

Burned through the tokens and quotas.

Made progress.

Got through the fucking day.