It was about two months after I stopped touching the app. When I opened the notifications on my smartphone, there was a message from an unfamiliar account. "I've been a bit concerned about the lack of recent updates, but are you okay?" It was just a short sentence. But the moment I saw those words on the screen, something spread warmly through my chest. I can't quite explain it, but it felt like sadness and embarrassment came to me at the same time. This essay is written about that experience. I want to talk about the "reason to keep creating" in continuing personal development. It's not about technology. It's just that those words I received that day are still alive within me, so I wanted to share them with someone.
The updates had stopped on a small tool that Lily was developing individually. The features were modest, and there weren't many people using it. But when I first released it, I was happy to receive comments like "This is convenient!", so I continued to make small improvements.
It stopped because of a certain review.
One Piece of Feedback Made Me Stop
"The UI is outdated," "I can't use it without features like this," "Other apps are better." There was no malice—it was straightforward feedback. But it was harsh for me at the time. When you're creating alone, all criticism sounds like criticism of yourself. I started thinking, "Yeah, it's not that great," myself.
Opening the dashboard became a chore, I stopped launching the code editor, and before I knew it, two months had passed. "Abandoned" is the accurate word, but at the time I think I made excuses like "I'm organizing it" or "I've been a bit busy."
Creating Itself Became Scary
It wasn't just the app that had stopped. I couldn't write blog posts anymore. Every time I saw posts from other indie developers on social media, the feeling of "Wow, they're amazing, I'm different" grew larger.
Creating had become scary. I realized that after receiving that message.
The notification came through a social media DM. It was sent by someone who wasn't even a follower and someone I had never corresponded with before.
"I've been a bit concerned about the lack of recent updates, but are you okay?"
I Read It Over and Over
At first, I read it thinking "What is this?" I thought it might be spam, so I checked their profile. It was just a regular indie developer.
As I read it two, three times, I felt something tighten in my chest. This person had been using my app. Not only that, they had noticed that updates had stopped. And they were worried about me.
It took 30 minutes before I could reply "Thank you." I typed and deleted, typed and deleted. I couldn't find the right words.
Embarrassment and Warmth Came at the Same Time
In the end, I sent: "Thank you. I was feeling a bit down, but I think I'll slowly start again." It took a lot of courage just to say that.
The reply came back: "Please don't push yourself. But I really liked that app."
That single word "but" somehow hit me really hard.
When you do personal development, you sometimes feel lonely. There's no team. No obligation to report progress to anyone. Days go by where you don't even know if what you're making is being used.
So when I received that message, I realized for the first time, in a very real way. That "someone is watching."
Users Weren't Numbers
When I was checking "active user count" on the dashboard, it was just a number. But the person who sent that DM wasn't a number. They took time and went out of their way to contact me—one human being.
When I realized that, something changed. To put it dramatically, I felt like I finally truly understood that "what I created had reached someone's life."
It's a Bit Different from Seeking Approval
Anyone who creates wants to be recognized by someone. Lily is honestly no exception. But the reason that DM struck my heart wasn't because I was being recognized.
It was because "I was being worried about." Not my work, but me as a person creating it was being cared for. I think that's why it resonated so deeply.
The week after I got that message, I opened the code editor for the first time in a while.
I didn't do anything big. I fixed a small bug that had been bothering me for a while, wrote in the release notes "Fixed a few things. I'll keep updating little by little," and released it. For two months I had kept thinking I should prepare a perfect update before restarting, but what I actually did was just that.
Moving Small
After the update, another message came. "You're back," it said.
That was enough. Even with no major features, just a single bug fix, there was someone seeing that I had "come back." That fact became the reason to keep opening it the next week.
I realized that what I had been thinking during those stopped months—"I'll restart once I have a perfect update ready"—was actually the biggest obstacle. Just by allowing myself to move small, it started again.
"Once Everything Is Ready" Never Comes
Looking back, for those two months I was always thinking "I'll start moving once I'm prepared." But I had never started moving once I was prepared. I now understand that things get organized little by little after you start moving. This might not be limited to personal development, but when you're doing it alone, I feel you especially easily fall into this "once everything is ready" trap.
Creating alone is tough.
You don't get praised, you compare yourself to others, and since no one gets angry at you for stopping, it's easy to stop. You have to create your own reason to restart.
Stopping Isn't Failure
But the biggest thing I think from that experience is: "Stopping itself isn't failure."
Even while stopped, someone might keep using it. And there might be someone who worries about you. You might realize things while stopped.
As long as you don't completely quit, you can restart. As long as you don't delete the app, someone might still be using it. That didn't change during the two months Lily was stopped.
Creating for One Person
If Lily's way of creating has changed, it's that the awareness of "creating for one person" has become a bit stronger. Before the numbers, I picture the face of the person who sent that DM. I first think about whether that person will find it a bit more convenient.
Just that made creating feel a bit lighter.
If among those reading this essay there is someone whose app or service updates have stopped, I want you to look back just once. Among the feedback you've received, isn't there something that isn't criticism? Can you imagine one person's face beyond the numbers?
And if you're still keeping something moving now, one of your users might actually be watching you quite carefully.
Lily still loves that one phrase. "Are you okay?"
It's not technically correct feedback, and it's not a bug report. But it was the words that made me want to keep creating most of all.
To those of you who are also continuing to create something alone, I want to say thank you today too.
Lily (@bokuwalily) — Indie developer. Creating iOS apps and web services in tandem with AI.
