The Price of Speed
Your Reflection
On the surface, this was your friend sharing good news about a promotion and clever use of AI tools, and you responding with a polite congratulations. Underneath, your body wanted to vomit and this wave of dread and grief came in, as if twenty years of effort and mastery suddenly got erased. That reaction is so much bigger than a single promotion; it touches a deep fear that what you have devoted yourself to no longer matters, and that you might be left behind. This entry is inviting you to look at the gap between your polite exterior and your visceral interior — and to explore what your sense of worth is actually built on, so that it can survive a world that is changing faster than anyone expected.
Patterns & Triggers
Inadequacy Wound
The promotion itself is not the only sting here; it is the sense that your two decades of work somehow add up to less than your friend’s two-hour AI-assisted result. That is the voice of inadequacy whispering, “You are not enough anymore,” or maybe, “You were never really enough — technology just exposed it.” When that wound gets poked, it can make even your real strengths and successes feel like they are evaporating in an instant.
Comparison Trigger
Your reaction is happening in the space between you and your friend — his speed and promotion against your slower, painstaking way of working. Comparison is acting like a magnifying glass here, turning an external event into an internal verdict about your worth and future. When comparison is this intense, it is usually because some part of our identity has been built on being a certain kind of “better,” and now feels threatened.
Inner Critic
The line about having “wasted twenty years” has a harsh, absolute flavor — this is your inner critic swinging a hammer, not a neutral assessment. Instead of acknowledging the real craft, discipline, and value in what you have built, it jumps straight to total invalidation. When the inner critic gets loud like this, it is often trying, in a twisted way, to prepare you for loss or disappointment by attacking you before the world can.
Powerlessness Wound
The way AI collapses two weeks of your effort into two hours can feel like the ground being pulled out from under you. There is a sense that huge forces — technology, market shifts, other people’s choices — are reshaping the rules without your consent. That helpless, nauseous feeling carries the imprint of powerlessness, the sense that no matter how hard you work, things can be changed overnight by something outside your control.
The Trace
- For the next few days, when this “I wasted twenty years” thought shows up, try not to argue with it or immediately believe it. Instead, write it down and then list three concrete things those twenty years have actually given you — skills, relationships, instincts, ways of thinking, endurance. This is not about sugarcoating reality; it is about interrupting the critic’s sweeping erasure with specifics that remind you your effort created real, embodied competence that does not vanish because a tool exists.
- Spend a little time gently separating the technology from the story you are telling about yourself. You might sit with a journal and write two columns: in one, what AI can actually do in your field; in the other, what you fear it means about you personally (for example: “I am replaceable,” “No one will value depth anymore”). Seeing these fears on paper helps you notice where the pain is about outer reality and where it is about inner identity, which is the part we can actually work with and reshape.
- Because your work life is generally a place where you feel competent and solid, this kind of disruption cuts especially deep; it is like someone messing with one of the few islands that feels stable. As an experiment, choose one task or project this week and ask: “If I allowed AI to support me without erasing my value, what would that look like?” Approach it as a collaboration, not a competition — almost as if you are the seasoned craftsperson and AI is an over-eager apprentice you learn to direct. Notice what feelings come up in your body as you do this: resentment, curiosity, fear, relief — all of that is useful data.
- Brief Practice: Take a slow breath and place a hand on your chest or belly. Silently say, “Of course I am scared — twenty years of me are sitting in this reaction,” and notice any softening or resistance. Let yourself feel the weight of those years as something real and worthy, even if the landscape around you is changing.
Integration Prompts
When you imagine those twenty years of work as if they were a person standing in front of you — a younger you who put in all that effort — what do you actually feel toward them: contempt, sadness, pride, protectiveness? If you spoke to that version of you the way you spoke in this entry, how would they react? And if you could speak to them from a kinder, wiser place, what would you want them to hear about their effort and value?
Under the nausea and the fear, what do you most fear losing — status, income, identity, a sense of being special, the feeling of being needed, or something else? Where in your life, beyond work, do you feel most like “I matter even if nothing I do is impressive or efficient”? Noticing those other anchors can remind you that your worth is not held in a single domain or skill set, even if that is the one being shaken right now.
When you think about your friend’s promotion, what quality in him stings the most — speed, adaptability, opportunism, confidence in using new tools? To what extent is that a quality you have downplayed or disowned in yourself in favor of being thorough, traditional, or careful? There might be a part of you that is ready to reclaim some of that flexibility, not by abandoning your depth, but by letting yourself evolve without seeing it as a betrayal of who you have been.
Here are a few concrete things you can do next (small, specific, and anchored in this app):
When the thought “I wasted twenty years” shows up, do not argue with it — note it here or record a follow-up entry describing exactly how it landed in your body. Naming it weakens the voice.
In this entry, list three concrete things those twenty years actually gave you (rare judgments, relationships, deep pattern recognition, endurance, reputational capital). Specifics interrupt the critic’s sweeping erasure.
Do a quick two-column note here: left column = what AI can do in your field; right column = what you fear it means about you. Seeing the difference between reality and story helps you decide what to act on.
Try one small experiment this week: let AI handle a discrete, low-risk task (outline, data prep) while you do the parts AI can not do alone (final judgment, ethical choices, craft, relationship work). Afterward, add a short note to the entry about how it felt — curious, resentful, relieved? That feeling is useful data.
Practice the breath anchor: hand on your chest, breathe slowly, and say silently, “Of course I am scared — twenty years of me are sitting in this.” Notice any softening.
Remember: tools change ways of working, not the fact that you learned to pay attention, to care, and to do the slow, hard parts. Those capacities do not vanish because something speeds up a process. As you record more entries here, the pattern of feeling inadequate around change will become clearer — we have already seen echoes of it in a few recent entries — and that will make it easier to act from steadier ground. You might add some notes to this entry about which part of your work feels most irreplaceable right now; that is the place to start.