I learned how to swim at the age of 26. Or rather, I'm still learning. In my last lesson, I managed to swim 50 meters without using any support (and I didn't drown, lol). In the lesson before that, I got dizzy, my leg cramped three times, and I had swallowed half the pool. (you could see water draining) So today, I can't quite say, "I know how to swim now." But I also can't say, "I don't know how to swim." I'm learning how to swim at 26. And I have a few observations about it. First of all, there are a lot of children at the pool. A lot. And they're incredibly good at swimming. The first thing that happens when you start learning to swim as an adult is that, while you're desperately struggling around trying not to drown and taking huge breaths that somehow end up with you swallowing the entire pool, tiny little kids are happily swimming right beside you. It's an incredibly humbling sight. It strips away the ego you've built up over the years and the confidence that comes from being able to handle most adult tasks with ease, and suddenly you realize you've taken on something you know absolutely nothing about. Something that even children are better at than you. Fortunately, dealing with that part wasn't very difficult for me. One of the best skills I've ever developed in life has been being able to say, "I don't know," and accepting that I don't know. So accepting my lack of knowledge & skill came quite easily. The next challenge was digesting all the fear I had accumulated over the years. In the very first lesson, I was supposed to swim about 25 meters using a kickboard and fins. Instead, the moment my feet left the ground, I started flailing, struggling, and trying not to drown even though my head was above the water the whole time. My first few lessons were spent simply trying to get into a horizontal position in the water. Up until that point, it was all just fear of the water. My instructor literally forced me to the bottom of the pool, and I saw that I could come back up. Once I realized, somehow, that nobody was going to let me drown in that pool, I started being a little less afraid. Even then, it took me getting three leg cramps just to make it 25 meters with a kickboard. I was tensing my body far more than necessary and pushing myself to an absurd degree. By the end of the first month, my only plan was to quit. To justify it, I had convinced myself of all sorts of reasons: that my instructor wasn't attentive enough, that I wouldn't have time for swimming lessons, that maybe swimming just wasn't for me. I kept going through that first month simply because I had already paid for it (while also looking for every possible excuse to conveniently skip lessons whenever I could), but watching the people who had started at the same time with me improve while I was still struggling so much made me feel awful. One day, about an hour before class, I was sitting on the floor of my bedroom thinking about why things were going this way, why I couldn't do it, why I would never be able to do it. My spouse came in and told me to get ready for the pool. I told him I couldn't go. He said, "I don't think you're afraid of the water. I think you're afraid of failing." I cried a lot that day. I didn't fully understand what I was feeling, but I was certain I wouldn't be able to get into the water. Ever since the beginning, every single day I had been trembling as I walked through the door, making self-deprecating jokes and coming up with excuses to turn back, but that day I couldn't even bring myself to leave the house. I wasn't confronting my fear of water anymore. I was confronting my fear of failure. After taking lessons, trying at least five or six times, I still felt like I was exactly where I had started. And I felt like I would never get past that point. The next day, before class, I went back and read some of my journal entries. I remembered how, during my first lessons, I couldn't even get into the water with a kickboard, and I remembered the cramps. At the same time, I realized something: every single day I chose to go swimming, I ended up swimming better than the version of me where I didn't go at all. That day, when I got into the water, my instructor happened to be busy with other students, so he left me alone for a while. Instead of following memorized instructions like a robot, I tried to understand how the water actually worked. I experimented to see what happens when I did different things, and by the end of that lesson I realized I could stay afloat on my own. At the end of class, I told my instructor that my learning style was to repeat something until I truly understood the dynamics behind it. I needed to discover every possible outcome of a movement through trial and error. I started feeling a little better. In the next lesson, I practiced not next to the wall but between two lanes. My instructor believed I could do it now. Even though I resisted a lot, he refused to change his mind, and I tried to stay afloat between the lanes, with no wall to hold onto. On my way to the lesson after that lane incident, I noticed my feet wanting to turn back again. I can analyze my own pattern now. Whenever there's a new challenge, an unfamiliar path, taking that first step doesn't come easily to me. When I had finally gotten used to swimming safely alongside the wall, knowing that the next lesson would be between the lanes scared me. Then I got used to swimming between the lanes, but now I had to let go of my kickboard. After swimming without the kickboard for the first time, I once again didn't want to go to the next lesson. Then I learned to let go of the kickboard. Next came getting rid of the fins. We had a lesson where I swam 50 meters without fins, without a kickboard, without any kind of support. And yet I still didn't want to go to the next lesson. Even though I had done it, even though I had concrete proof that I could do it, the idea of getting into the water without fins in the next lesson terrified me because I still wasn't confident in my abilities and I didn't know whether I would fail or not. Once again, I couldn't bring myself to go. That's where I am now. I convince myself to go to class (most of the time by telling myself not to waste the money I've already paid), and I'm incredibly happy whenever I manage to do something I couldn't do before. Just being in the water gives me enough courage to attempt something I've never done before, and I finish the lesson. Before the next lesson, I'm afraid again because I know I'll be facing something new. I skip lessons with all kinds of excuses until, the next day, I convince myself all over again and see that I was actually capable of doing the very thing I was afraid of. I have to remind myself of this pattern often. That many of the situations I feared so much, the ones that sent me into anxiety and fear spirals, eventually turned into skills I genuinely enjoy, and that I have more than one example of this happening. Before my next swimming lesson, I'll read this piece again. Every time I try something for the first time and don't become great at it within ten minutes, I'll remember what learning to swim felt like. There is nothing quite as satisfying as learning something new, especially something you're bad at, and watching yourself slowly become good at it. These are some of the moments that make you feel like you're truly living, like you're expanding your own limits with your own hands. I can't wait for swimming in the open sea and to exploring the open sea of possibilities by taking on new things I'm bad at. Thanks for reading. If you have any feedback or would like to discuss further, I would be happy to hear from you. twitter | [email protected]

Exactly a year ago today, I changed something about myself that had been part of my life for ten years. What that "thing" is won’t be mentioned here, so as not to take the subject out of context, but I can tell you a few things about it. Because it had persisted for a decade, it had become more than a habit, it was an identity marker. Whether people knew me well or not, they could easily list "being that thing" or "having that thing" among my traits. Among my friends, family, and relatives, there were many who were deeply attached to this version of me. It felt as if their entire connection to me depended on my possession of that thing. I started thinking about changing this thing a long time ago. About 4 or 5 years ago. In other words, half the time I spent having that thing was spent imagining letting it go. Throughout that entire period, I believed it was absolutely impossible for me to change it. Knowing I couldn't change it and continuing to live that way only brought me pain. Though I tried to ignore it most of the time, it was with me at almost every moment of my life, and the discomfort it created caused me to shy away from many possibilities in life. Many. One day, I was crying like a regular tuesday night, I decided to change it. And I changed it right then and there. I went for a brisk walk, and by the time I came home, I was someone who had changed that thing. It was over. Now, the next step was for everyone around me to find out that I had changed it. Because until everyone knew, I wouldn't be fully changed. As I said at the beginning, there were people among my loved ones who were truly attached to me being "that thing"; even though my changing it had no direct impact on their lives, and even though it was entirely, solely, and only about me. There were people who had nervous breakdowns, people who cut off contact with me, people who were shocked, people who were overjoyed, and people who made no comment at all. This process gave me a lot to think about how people become attached to versions of us that they find convenient for themselves I went to therapy for a while to decide if I should keep the change and how to do so. The discomfort of the change was so intense that I began to wonder if it would be worth it. It took several therapy sessions to figure out if I actually wanted to change the thing about myself. It felt as though the happiness this change would bring would never outweigh the discomfort it caused. I was very close to giving up. But whatever happened, I somehow endured. I am not exactly sure how that one year passed, but I'm glad I didn't back off. The people who matter most to me accepted this change. Our communication returned to normal in a few months. As for me, I often find myself sighing. Even though everything looks normal, I am still living with the inner ache of that change. I believe part of me, no matter how much I wanted the change, was somehow connected to that thing. Probably because it was an identity, a habit, something I lived with for 10 years. It is hard to let go such a thing. I have some people I cut out of my life so that they will never find out about the change and I will never have to put on an explanation. I am 26 years old, and I believe this is the first time I choose my own way of life even if it conflicts with everyone else's opinions about it. It took me five years to decide on a change. It took a single night to take action. And struggling with the discomfort of that change has taken about a year. About six months ago, I began to feel the sting of regret for not finding the courage sooner. Still the change reminds me of its presence from time to time, bringing back that familiar uneased state of mind, and I don’t know how much longer that will last. Yet, the moment I actually started to enjoy the change was the very next morning after that walk. When I thought beyond everything else and realized I had finally achieved something I’d spent years doubting and deeming impossible.. that excitement was priceless. I don’t know how much time must pass before the transition is complete and the act of changing finally leaves my daily thoughts. But in a way, I don’t want it to. Making this change was one of the most significant decisions of my life. Even with all the discomfort and the struggle, I wouldn't trade the excitement and fulfillment it brought me for a smoother, easier path. Thanks for reading. If you have any feedback or would like to discuss further, I would be happy to hear from you. twitter | [email protected] Previous

Thanks for reading. If you have any feedback or would like to discuss further, I would be happy to hear from you. twitter | [email protected] Previous

know thyself There is a new lifestyle imposed on almost the entire world, willingly or unwillingly, perhaps by powerful people or by many small people that want to be powerful, which somehow affects all ordinary people: a consumption-oriented life. Fast consumption, constant consumption, more consumption. I don't have much to say about the "shopping" side of this consumption craze because it's a topic that's been around for many years, born out of -ism movements and studied numerous times through -ology disciplines. It has been the subject of public service announcements, romantic comedies, and personal development books. The public has been constantly educated about it for years. Two guys known as The Minimalists and some "smart" people like Marie Kondo made a fortune out of this movement. Personally, I believe I am a conscious consumer, and the shopping craze doesn't affect me much, so I want to look at the other, often-discussed side of the issue. The consumption I will discuss is digital content, information, and emotion/thought consumption. I know there are social science studies that delve into the intersections and background connections of all these consumptions, but as an ordinary person, I want to talk about the effects on my own life, particularly my professional development. Although it has been on my mind for a long time, I haven't been able to read a comprehensive book based on these studies (the reason being the vicious cycle based on this topic), but I have consumed plenty of content... I've watched various TED talks, several indie YouTuber videos with a wholesome background, selling personal development under the hood on their newly launched channels, and of course, read tweets... I've also had plenty of opportunities to observe myself. At this point I am convinced that fast consumption is harmful to the brain, mind, and soul. The main reason I pursue this topic is that, aside from all the side effects in personal life, it also prevents me from being better at my profession as a brain-worker as Jules Payot puts it. In disciplines like software engineering, constantly improving oneself and being in a state of continuous learning is an inevitable process. Even if you don't put in extra effort and just try to do your job, you have to learn a new concept or technology. If you do put in the extra effort, you become someone who does their job better. Since graduating from undergraduate studies (which marks exactly one year as I write this post), putting in extra effort has been my top priority. Working more, reading more, knowing more. In addition to technical studies, I also read about and received advice on soft skills related to "software crafting." One of my first mistakes, I think, was taking every kind of advice from everyone. Even if I didn't implement them directly, these pieces of advice took up space in my mind, and thinking "what if that's better" prevented me from putting any of them into practice. The problem with online advice is that the person writing the blog post is doing so entirely from their own perspective and lifestyle. They have no idea about you, and you have no idea about them. There's no guarantee that what works for them will work for you. Moreover, you don't get a chance to question causality, you just read the advice, consume it, and move on. It takes up space in your mind and on your to-do list, but you don't get a chance to internalize or filter this topic. You don't even realize that you should actually do so. One of the pieces of advice I took without realizing it was to systematize the mentioned studies, work regularly, and similar. Once that idea put in my mind, things became complicated for me. While working full-time, I had to balance my personal life and stick to the plan. No matter how much your willpower sticks to the plan, your health, developments in your life, and your brain, which sometimes refuses to accept more information, don't always stick to the plan. When this happens, it becomes difficult to establish the system I mentioned, and you start looking for more advice, reading more blogs. You find yourself in a quest for productivity, feeling productive because of the quest, but not really doing any productive work. Advice also has the effect of reducing creativity and problem-solving skills. When I have a problem, technical or other, the first thing I do is research the solution. As a result, I don't get enough chance to think about my problem, let alone produce a solution, and I don't fully understand the problem. I've "consumed" what I should do and how I should do it many times from different people. With all this information occupying my brain, I no longer had the energy and resources to produce a tangible output. Because of my profession, I like learning different concepts from different fields. I am particularly curious about the low-level infrastructures and systems behind high-level tools, and I am aware of the contribution of knowing these to doing my job well. However, because of the constant rush and haste imposed by social media in my life, I can't devote enough time to these resources. Because I am so used to seeing information, quickly taking it in, and moving on to another topic. Because the short content I constantly consume, whether written or visual, has made me accustomed to this. I want to know everything, immediately, quickly. Since this is not humanly possible, I end up doing nothing. I can't think long-term; I can't stop myself from thinking that working on a book for 6 months, doing its projects, is a huge waste of time for me, and because I already feel late, I find myself, yet again, in a cycle. When I'm focused solely on consuming, my ability to produce naturally decreases. I include speaking, being able to express oneself, and having a good command of words in this context. After knowing myself as someone who has always been good with words for years, seeing that I can't choose the right word when speaking, or that I can't convey the message or information I want to give more clearly and simply when writing, naturally bothers me. Although it is said that software development is an antisocial job, you constantly need to communicate with people, either in writing or verbally, and you need to express what you have done and what you will do well. I am approaching the point of losing this skill by consuming instead of producing. While all this disrupts progress and confuses my mind, I also have to deal with the physical and mental side effects of fast consumption. Difficulty concentrating, lack of focus, inability to understand what I read, stress, anxiety. I see these kinds of complaints from many people lately, and in my opinion, our biggest common ground is digital content consumption. The relativity of time is a reality I feel to the core while doom scrolling. Besides the lost time, there's the confusion after realizing it and putting the phone down, trying to get my dazed mind back to normal. And then, not finding anything to do, not being able to putting yourself together, and reaching for the phone again. Everyone has seen the articles about the brain's approach to social media content, which offers a quick, easily accessible way that makes you happy or, even if it doesn't make you happy, offers an escape from the thing that makes you unhappy. When you put these into words or write them down, it bothers you a lot, but I think knowing yourself is the most important thing to do before changing yourself. I know what I'm doing wrong, and now it's documented in front of me. I also know what I need to work on. We are talking about the harms, but I have always been fascinated by the opportunities the internet offers. Being able to communicate and chat with someone from anywhere in the world within seconds is an invaluable blessing. It just takes a little effort to filter to see and reach the right people's content. Otherwise, I don't think completely withdrawing would be very beneficial in my industry and the era I live in. I won't go against what I mentioned so I won't end this problem-filled post with advice or plans. That's why I started with the quote "know thyself." I just tried to see and make the problem tangible. I will stop researching what I can do for a while. First, I plan to clear my mind of clutter, quit this fast and excessive consumption habit I have acquired without realizing it, and then learn how to consume slowly and gradually. I have enough raw information to discover how to do all this myself; I will now give myself the opportunity to process it. This post has been discussed on Hacker News, you can join the conversation there. Thanks for reading. If you have any feedback or would like to discuss further, I would be happy to hear from you. twitter | [email protected] Next