Is It Really Worth It?

I've been asking myself this question a lot lately.

Is it really worth it?

All the hours spent learning. All the projects I've built. All the things I've tried, the ideas I've chased, and the time I've spent trying to turn something I love into something that can actually support me.

Is any of it going to pay off?

I don't have an answer. And lately, not knowing has been getting to me more than I'd like to admit.

I love building things

I've spent years learning how to build software. From writing my first lines of code to working with technologies I couldn't have imagined understanding a few years ago, I've come a long way.

I love the process. I love taking an idea, figuring out how it should work, solving the problems along the way, and eventually having something real that I can show someone.

That's what got me into this in the first place.

I didn't start building software because I thought it would be an easy way to make money. I started because I genuinely enjoyed it. I wanted to understand how things worked and learn how to create things myself.

But somewhere along the way, enjoying the process stopped being enough.

I want to make a living doing this. I want to be independent. I want to look at something I've built and know that it creates enough value for someone to actually pay for it.

And I don't think there's anything wrong with wanting that.

The problem is that I'm still trying to get there.

Years of learning, and still $0

It's difficult to explain what it feels like to spend years learning a skill, getting better at it, and building things, only to find yourself struggling to make money from it.

You know you're better than you were a year ago. You can look back at your old projects and see the progress. You know how much you've learned and how much work you've put in.

But then you look at your bank account.

And it's still $0.

At some point, you start wondering what you're doing wrong.

Am I not trying hard enough? Am I focusing on the wrong things? Am I spending too much time building and not enough time figuring out how to sell what I build?

Maybe.

Or maybe I'm simply still figuring things out.

The problem is that I can't afford to treat this as an endless experiment. I don't have the luxury of spending years building products and hoping that one of them eventually works.

I need things to change. I need to make money. And I want all the time I've invested in learning this craft to lead somewhere.

Knowing that I still have a lot to learn doesn't make the financial pressure disappear.

And now, there's OtterTally

Right now, I'm building OtterTally with my co-founder.

It's a macOS menu bar app that brings Stripe and RevenueCat revenue into one place, helping indie developers keep track of their businesses without constantly switching between dashboards.

I've spent time building it, working through integrations, figuring out the product, and trying to get it in front of the people who might actually use it.

We've started sharing it publicly. We've received comments and some interest. We're getting closer to putting it into people's hands.

And I want it to work. I really do.

But I also keep thinking about what happens if it doesn't.

What if we finally ship it and nobody downloads it?

What if people think it's a nice idea but don't care enough to use it? What if we spend all this time building something that never makes a single dollar?

I know these are possibilities with any product. Nobody owes us their attention, and writing code doesn't guarantee that anyone will pay for the result.

I understand all of that intellectually.

It doesn't make it any easier emotionally.

Because OtterTally isn't just another project to me. It's another attempt to turn what I've spent years learning into something real. Another attempt to prove to myself that I can do more than build things that look good in a portfolio.

I want to know that I can make something people want.

I want to know that I can make money doing what I love.

And I'm scared that I won't.

Maybe I'm the problem

This is the part I find hardest to talk about.

When you keep trying and the results don't come, it's difficult not to turn that disappointment inward.

You start looking at yourself as the common denominator.

Maybe other people are better at this. Maybe they understand something you don't. Maybe you're not as good as you thought you were. Maybe you've spent all these years learning how to build software without learning how to make it valuable to anyone else.

You start questioning decisions you've made years ago.

You wonder whether you should have focused on something else, started sooner, learned different skills, or approached everything differently.

And no matter how much progress you've made, it starts feeling like none of it counts until you have something to show for it financially.

I don't know how much of this is a genuine signal that I need to change my approach and how much is frustration talking.

Probably some of both.

I know that building a product and building a business are different things. I know that distribution, customer research, pricing, and timing matter just as much as the code.

Maybe I need to get better at those things. Maybe I need to spend less time perfecting a product and more time finding out whether anyone actually wants it.

But I also wish I could stop interpreting every setback as evidence that I'm not good enough.

It's exhausting to work on improving your skills while simultaneously questioning whether those skills will ever be enough.

I don't know how people keep doing this

I see people building products, launching companies, getting customers, and making money from things they created.

I'm happy for them. I know that building something successful takes a lot of work, and I don't want to diminish what they've accomplished.

But sometimes I look at them and wonder when things will finally start working out for me.

When will I stop worrying about whether I can make money?

When will the things I build start creating opportunities instead of requiring me to keep investing more time and energy?

When will I feel like I'm moving forward?

I know social media shows a very selective version of people's lives. I know I'm comparing my situation with a small part of theirs.

Still, it's hard not to feel behind when you're working toward something and can't yet see a clear path to getting there.

And the hardest part is that I don't want to give up.

If I didn't care about building software, maybe this would be easier. I could move on to something else and stop worrying about whether I could make this work.

But I do care.

I still get excited about ideas. I still want to build things. I still want to see what I'm capable of creating.

I just don't want to spend the next several years doing all of this and end up in exactly the same place.

So, is it really worth it?

I wish I had a good answer.

I wish I could end this post by telling you what I've learned, how I've changed my mindset, or why I'm now confident that everything will work out.

But that wouldn't be honest.

I'm still asking myself the question.

Maybe OtterTally will work. Maybe it won't. Maybe the experience will lead to opportunities I can't see yet. Or maybe I'll learn some difficult lessons and eventually move on to something else.

I don't know.

What I do know is that I need to find a way to make money. I can't keep treating every new idea as though it might be the thing that finally fixes everything. I need to find a way to support myself while continuing to build the things I care about.

Maybe that means finding paid work while working on my own products. Maybe it means learning to validate ideas before investing so much time in them. Maybe it means accepting that the thing I love doing doesn't have to be the only way I earn money.

I haven't figured out what that looks like yet.

And I'm tired.

I'm tired of wondering whether I'm doing enough. I'm tired of feeling like I have to prove that all these years were worth it. I'm tired of wanting something so badly and having no guarantee that I'll get there.

But I'm not writing this because I've decided to quit.

I'm writing it because this is where I am right now, and I don't want to pretend otherwise.

I love building software. I still want to make something meaningful. I still want to be able to support myself doing something I'm proud of.

I just wish I knew whether all this effort would eventually pay off.

For now, I guess I'll keep trying to figure that out.

Not because I'm certain it will work.

But because I haven't found a reason to stop wanting it, either.

And maybe that's all I can honestly say right now.

So If you're going through something similar, I hope things work out for you, too.

I really do.

Goodnight.