Coasting or in simpler words, taking it easy, putting in the minimum effort to get by, has been gaining popularity for rather obvious reasons in recent years. If you’ve been diligently Monitoring The Situation™, you’d know many have consciously opted into it.
I too have been a part of it, though it was not a conscious decision. It was more of a natural slide, the kind your body does for you when your mind refuses to admit something broke.
Before#
According to my WakaTime, I used to average 8 hours of coding a day with a 15-minute timeout. That’s a pretty insane number. And it wasn’t just work code, I was picking up weird new projects every other week, catching up with everything, pushing myself into things I didn’t already know. I was there when Rust had no Rust Foundation™ and now I hate the entire language </3. Point is, the hours weren’t just volume, they were breadth and hunger.
And for all the stress, it felt right. Not comfortable, not easy, but true like I was actually being myself. I would be dead tired, so much so I’d be a log as soon as I hit the bed but I had the biggest stupid grin on my face. Even when things were going wrong, and I couldn’t even get an ounce of sleep, It still felt right, despite all that I was still being a proper Posei(if that makes sense).
The Crash#
I used to be feisty. Chased goals relentlessly, then chased a big one: I was making a game. An action RPG (uh oh). Probably my second or third game ever. In hindsight, that’s a recipe for disaster, but I didn’t know better.
Most people who’ve tried to make their dream RPG know how emotionally heavy that is in isolation. But this one carried personal weight beyond just the project itself, the kind I want to keep personal. So when it failed, it didn’t just fail as a project. It failed as something much closer to the bone.
Everything went downhill from there.
The Slide#
After overcoming the biggest hurdle of the crash, which was just trying to go back to being a functional human being (maybe a story worth its own post) I slipped into coasting naturally. There was no moment where I decided “I’m going to take it easy now.” It just happened. The urgency was gone, the fire was gone, and what was left was a quieter version of me that did enough and not much more.
I somewhat recovered, enough to function, enough to ship work, enough to look fine. But somewhere along the way I entered this state of “good enough.” Coasting. Both in professional work and personal pursuits.
During my coasting era? 3 hours of actual coding. And here’s the thing tho, 3 hours is still above the global average according to WakaTime stats. I was coasting above average. Which I’d argue is even more insane, and not in a flattering way. And I barely touched anything new after that.
It Was Good, Actually#
Common wisdom says: take it easy. And by all means, it was the right call.
I slept better. No longer had anxiety over what I didn’t do. No longer stressed about what I was doing. No restless nights thinking about who I am and how I can be more true to myself. I caught up on old hobbies, actually played games for the first time in ages instead of making them. Bettered up my social life. Did things that regular, well-adjusted humans do.
All in all? Pretty good.
“Is This It”#
But during the downtime, after a nice, peaceful day, when the noise dies down and it’s just me and my thoughts, unease creeps in.
“Is this it?”
That question doesn’t come loud. It comes at 11 PM when you’ve had a perfectly fine day and have no reason to feel unsettled. It comes when you realize you can’t remember the last time something you made excited you.
I look now at the calm sidewalk.
The comfortable, meandering path.
It is safe. It is good.
And yet, a heartache washes over me,
a silent question: “Is this all?”
“To the Ghost in the Starting Gate”
It’s been years since I crashed. A solid 3 to 4 years. And at the time, coasting was absolutely the right decision, you don’t floor the engine after a wreck.
But engines aren’t meant to idle forever.
Testing the Water#
For about 1 to 2 years now, I’ve been wondering whether to ramp it back up. I’d pick up the pace here and there, take on something harder, push a little further than comfortable just to test the water.
And it pulled me further. The engine didn’t stall. The thing I was afraid of, that pushing harder would send me back to that dark place, didn’t really happen.
The Border#
I stood on a sidewalk recently and something felt different. Not a dramatic crossroads, just a shift in the air. And suddenly I sensed possibility in the air once again.
Still, it’s been so long since I went all out. Do I still remember how? Do I still have it in me to become rather than just get by? And even if I do, stepping off this path means inviting it all back. The anxiety. The restless nights. The pain of caring too much about something that might not work out. I know exactly what’s on the other side because I’ve been there before.
But I’ve also been here. And between the two, I’d rather feel something.
If my wish to become—
not presumptuous—
let us pass through death and life.
Stopping#
For many, coasting is the right choice. It was for my past self. It gave me the space to heal, to sleep, to stop screaming at the horizon expecting an answer.
And even today, it genuinely feels safe. Comforting.
And I’m stopping.