
Breaking Point
2025.09.01.
I’ve been searching for what I should do for a little over three years now. I have a direction, I enjoy doing it — but am I doing it well?
I’ve been mentoring for three years, many people come to me, yet I can’t really sell this service. I can’t honestly say it works on the market, even though I speak with 8–10 people a week. And those who come see me are always very grateful for the conversation.
So what’s missing?
I write, I publish continuously, but there’s no feedback — I don’t see in reaction counts, shares, comments, references, or website visitors that my writing is interesting. I like them, but I don’t see that this professional area of my life is working. And I’m not talking about how much money I make from it, but whether it has impact.
So I keep trying new projects that basically try to present my previous work differently. The Lost Garden House talks, developing Vendler AI, creating a self-awareness–based sales training… a lot of energy goes into these, but they haven’t yet shown what they can do.
And then the question stands in front of me, cold and motionless:
Does what I do matter?
Tonight I hit a dead end with this. And the dead end is emotionally complex — so many things swirl inside me and at the same time the air around me seems to thin in an instant: disappointment mixes with doubt, perhaps self-blame and futility, and of course fatigue.
A momentary emptiness.
Maybe this is part of the natural arc of growth. The moment when I feel spent. When the performance curve flattens and I believe it’s permanent, because everything that used to push me forward has been used up. Yet there is hope inside me that this phase is nothing other than the birth of a new quality — I know that if I endure it, if I carry myself through, reserves will open and the senses sharpen, a new strategy will form because it has become necessary.
Necessity gives birth to renewal.
Athletes, writers, entrepreneurs all know this feeling: when the question is no longer whether you can run better, write better, do something better, but whether you will persist through what looks like meaningless work.
As an entrepreneur, the many struggles leading up to the dead end have shown me how not to do things, and in that moment of standstill — when you neither rise nor fall — everything can suddenly become so light.
Breath stops, and in that painful moment of emptiness the vacuum of futility sucks out what has been ripening in the background, what is not yet visible — yet the emptiness also creates space for it.
Today was a hard day. I sit here with a bitter aftertaste from my Unicum, and I know: this is exactly what entrepreneurship is about. The search for a solution. Just like life in general.
You have to survive these moments!
Why? So that I keep going even when I can’t see the point.
Because my task is to give meaning to what I do.























