For three days, I had my PC closed. The fever came on Friday night. The next morning, I thought "I'll just rest today," lay down, and before I knew it, it was Monday. I could barely eat, didn't want to look at my phone notifications, and just stared at the ceiling from inside my futon. No matter how heavy my body felt, there was one thing that kept nagging at me. "Is the app running properly?" While feverish and hazy, only that thought kept catching in the corner of my mind. It wasn't so much worry as a vague sense of concern, I think. But my body wouldn't cooperate with any emotion, and I fell asleep before I could even think about it. This essay is an honest account of what I felt during those few days—a quiet sense of accomplishment and a touch of loneliness. I'm writing it hoping it reaches others who are similarly creating things on their own.
Friday night, the moment I thought "I can't do this today," I closed my Mac. With baseless optimism that "I'll recover by tomorrow."
What First Crossed My Mind
To be honest, my first thought wasn't "tasks will stop" but "what if notifications come in?" I had just changed a small feature the day before, so what if a bug appeared? What if a user was troubled? That anxiety came before the heaviness of my body.
But my body wouldn't cooperate with such worries. Before I knew it, I was asleep, and when I woke up it was evening, and I was asleep again.
The Next Day, and the Day After That
Saturday was supposed to be a "recovery day." Sunday I thought "if I just do a light check..." But in reality, both days I could only manage to get out of the futon. Walking to the kitchen to drink water, getting tired and lying back down—that cycle repeated.
Looking vaguely at my phone, I'd see some reactions to the SNS post announcing the release. But I had no energy to reply. The feeling of "sorry I couldn't respond" just kept piling up.
Days like that continued.
Monday morning, when I opened my PC, the first screen showed logs lined up.
While I was sleeping, the app was welcoming users. There were new sign-ups, routine processes had run, and everything ended without errors. When I thought "oh, it was running," I felt something indescribable. Happy, yet strange.
Joy and a Small Sense of Dissonance
I was happy. Really. The feeling of "I created something that works even when I'm not there" might have been the thing I wanted most since starting indie development, I thought at that moment.
But at the same time, I felt something slightly odd. It's hard to put into words... the realization that "I wasn't needed" stung a little. A sense of accomplishment and, as its flip side, a slight feeling of alienation. The relief that the machine was working properly and the fact that I had been completely absent for those three days somehow coexisted.
I wondered if developers live with this kind of contradiction.
The loneliness of indie development is often discussed. "No team," "no one to consult with," "can't celebrate achievements with anyone." You see that kind of talk on SNS a lot.
But the loneliness I felt at this time was slightly different.
"Not Exactly Unwanted"
The app is running. There are users. But my "today" wasn't needed there.
If the system matured more, no one might notice even if I was gone for three days. That's supposed to be the goal, yet it felt a little lonely. Like being "left behind," a strange feeling. Even though I created it.
If I told someone about this feeling, they'd probably say "that's the beauty of automation," and I think I couldn't bring myself to say it. I couldn't answer well to the question "why are you lonely when it's successful?" But it was true that I felt lonely, so I'm writing it here.
But I Think It's Right Now
After some time passed, I came to think this feeling was an important signal. It was just that I wasn't used to having moved beyond the state of "I'm anxious without myself."
Maybe emptiness comes after graduating from dependence. Loneliness might be like wind blowing through that void, and I now think it wasn't a bad thing.
Monday, I opened my PC and first checked the logs. Everything was normal. Next, I reviewed the error notification settings that had been on my mind. I wanted to set it up so that "at minimum, if I can just see this, I'll be okay" even when I'm under the weather.
A Quiet Time Inspecting the System
I spent an hour confirming "what happened while I was away." Checking logs, confirming processing counts, checking for inquiries.
There were no problems. But this inspection time was very calming. Confirming with my own eyes that "it was running properly" slowly delivered peace to my recovering body. The nagging feeling I had felt in the futon finally seemed to resolve here.
Gradually Building from Failures
To be honest, it wasn't this organized from the start.
Previously, there were times when I released something without notifications even if something went wrong, and I didn't realize until a full day had passed that processing had stopped. I only found out when a user reported it directly to me. I still remember the apology and embarrassment I felt then. Blaming myself "why didn't I notice," I dealt with it in the middle of the night.
Since then, I've gradually built monitoring systems. Not perfect, but to the point where "even if I'm away, I can prevent the worst-case scenario." I think the reason these three days could end with peace of mind was because what I'd built up from that failure was quietly functioning.
I Became Conscious of "Design for Days When I Can't Move"
Before, I think I was somehow designing with the premise of "in emergencies, I'll power through with effort." But this time, I realized that was wrong. There will definitely be days when I can't move. Health issues, mental state, important matters—the reason doesn't matter. "Days when I'm away" are a premise, not an exception.
So now, I'm conscious of making "runs at minimum even without me" a design premise. Perfect automation isn't necessary. "Even if I'm away for three days, nothing catastrophic happens"—that's enough.
I feel the difficulty of "continuing" many times when doing indie development.
There's a lot of talk about "moving forward"—building features, growing users, increasing revenue. But there's not much talk about "days when I can't move." There are tales of triumph overcoming hardship, but "stories of being too exhausted to do anything" don't come up much.
The Product Stops Before I Do
We're human, so we get fevers. We get sick. There are days when our mental state sinks. No matter how hard we try, we can't avoid it.
When that happens, whether the product stops with us or keeps running alone depends on the difference in daily accumulation, I think. Creating "something I can rest from" isn't indulgence. I now think it's the basic form of sustainable indie development.
Small but Certain
Indie development is basically a continuous accumulation that no one notices.
There are more days when I fix one bug than days when users increase. I keep repeating unglamorous improvements that I don't even post on SNS. That accumulation created "those three days when I was completely absent but it kept running."
Invisible accumulation sometimes returns in this form. Thinking that, I feel a little more motivated to move my hands again.
The day after my body recovered, I took a short walk around the neighborhood.
While walking and thinking "the app was running properly," I felt a quiet joy. Not something worth telling anyone about, but a moment where I could truly feel "I'm glad I did this." Not posting on SNS, not reporting to anyone, just that feeling that only I knew about. That was enough, I thought.
If you reading this have had a similar experience, I want to tell you: "That's something amazing."
If your app is running even on days you can't move, that's the power of what you created. Even if no one praises you, even if your post doesn't go viral, that's real achievement. Even if you feel lonely, it might not be weakness but a sign that you're in the process of graduating from dependence.
And if you feel like "things stop without me," that's normal too. I was like that. There's no need to rush. You can gradually build it up.
Because today's accumulation exists for days when you can't move.
Lily（@bokuwalily）― Indie developer. Creating iOS apps and web services in tandem with AI
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Lily（@bokuwalily）― Indie developer / AI adoption and business automation consultant. Creating iOS apps and web services in tandem with AI while consulting on AI adoption and automation for companies
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