My favorite definition of prolonged stress, anxiety, or tiredness is when you engage in many high-risk, time-consuming activities that yield low rewards. Doing this over long periods takes a toll on a person. I love high-risk/high-reward. However, when the reward is low, I definitely feel it.

When I think of my work over the last few years, its high-risk aspects have been a rush. I enjoy the challenge but also being in control and calling the shots. My happy zone typically involves code and architecture. However, as a co-founder and CEO for the bulk of it, I had to do it all. And when the other co-founders were also tech-heavy, I was left doing many business and marketing things I had no idea about. As far as startups go, they are high-risk and high-reward.

Working in the Bitcoin industry, especially when dealing with software that controls user funds, is also high risk. But was there also a high reward? I have settled upon it not being so, which started the process of me stepping away completely.

What are the high risks? There are many, some more fun and challenging than others.

Risks

Software

In a custodial setting, which I've worked on as the leading payments architect at BottlePay (acq'd and eventually shut down by NyDig), you have a lot of balance and settlement issues you have to get right. I've worked on Bitcoin/Lightning transactions, SEPA transfers, checkout.com integrations, and recurring payment scheduling. There's also the responsibility of ensuring proper custody of the business's cold/hot wallet funds. Very high risk, but the high reward of being an "exchange" during a bull market was entirely worth it. Unfortunately, I was ripped of equity in that startup, so I saw no rewards when it was eventually purchased. At least I learned more about contracts, equity, and speaking with lawyers.

In a non-custodial setting, there's no company wallet to be concerned about. However, there's a lot of risk involved in this, too. Did you get the entropy logic correct? Many don't. Have you locked down as many web-based attacks as possible? Have you checked and audited the software dependencies in your code for supply chain attacks? Is your build process and access control to source code correct? How do you troubleshoot things when they go wrong? Bitcoin's on-chain payments are one thing, but lightning (Bitcoin's 2nd layer) is an entirely different beast when it comes to state management and p2p communication that can result in loss of funds.

Regulatory

Custody includes many regulations, applications, KYC, FinCEN requirements, etc. You know what you're getting into when you go down this path, and that's something I never wanted to be part of myself, at least at my own company.

Non-custodial is supposed to be exempt from this requirement. Still, time and time again, this has been proven to be challenging to navigate, at best, and at worst, straight to prison. I was comfortable where we settled, but it definitely had unknown risks.

Economical

With any startup, you must capture a lot of value, market share, and revenue. We had models and plans we've talked about to be able to grow this over time, but there were a lot of realities that prevented that. We threw a lot at the wall. Some worked, some didn't, and in the end, we came up with something too hard to use, too unreliable, and couldn't scale like we had hoped. Making something with a clear product-market fit is hard, but the reward is as high as the risk.

I'll be very clear: shutting down or changing things was entirely up to us. And by up to us, I mean we always wanted to make it big, bring in many users, bring in the money, etc. It's not a side effect of being a VC-funded company with people to answer to. This is the side effect of wanting to go big. It's not for every person or project, but it was a decision we had always wanted.

Social

How are you perceived in the industry you're working in? Navigating communities and still targeting those outside of those communities is challenging. If you're going too hard into a niche and only cater to those people, it could become challenging to expand outward without pissing off your current user base in some way.

In the bitcoin industry, especially, it's full of leeches, hateful non-users, and land mines around every corner. Don't get me wrong; quite a few people were fans of what we were trying to do, but plenty of people nitpicked and hated one particular thing over another. Navigating this is very high-risk, but is it high-reward building something only a few hardcore people are happy with?

Personal Investment

Beyond the technical and business risks, a more profound personal cost accumulated over time. Every deployment carried the weight of potentially losing someone's money. One missed bug or vulnerability could be catastrophic - and they often were. The responsibility isn't just technical - it follows you home, lives in your thoughts during dinner, and wakes you up at night when friends or complete strangers message you about losing funds. The complexity of Bitcoin and Lightning made these issues particularly haunting, as tracing and fixing bugs often felt like searching for a needle in a haystack while someone's money hung in the balance. The mental toll of this constant pressure was perhaps the highest risk of all, yet the reward was often just avoiding disaster rather than achieving success.

The opportunity cost was significant too. While others in tech were building diverse skill sets, I had become hyper-specialized in Bitcoin development. Each year deeper into this niche meant becoming more invested in and more dependent on this single ecosystem. The industry's demands meant sacrificing time with family, personal health, and other interests - all for what I believed was a worthy cause at the time. Looking back, the risk of putting all my eggs in this basket was enormous, while the reward of being a "Bitcoin specialist" proved far less valuable than I'd imagined.

While these industry risks were always present, it wasn't until I stepped back that I realized how everything had deeply affected me personally. The constant high-risk and uncertain environment had taken its initial toll, leading me to question our business strategy and my entire relationship with the Bitcoin industry.

Emotions

I've been in this space since 2017. Working in this industry since then means that for 7 out of the last 8 years of being a software engineer, it's been my whole adult life. What do I have to show for it? A failing wallet and startup that had to pivot away from Bitcoin in an attempt to survive.

One of the most significant waking points for me was when I was conversing with my mom about certain regulatory events in the wallet space towards the beginning of the year. She'd asked a simple question like "Can you do something else?" and I instantly responded, "This is what I've built my whole life up to; this is what I believe in, and I won't compromise on that."

The visceral nature of my response surprised even me. It wasn't just about the work but about who I had become. Being "a Bitcoin developer" had become more than a job title; it was a core part of my identity. The thought of doing something else felt like betraying not just my career path but also my beliefs, my community, and years of dedicated work. When you spend years telling others about Bitcoin's importance and building tools to advance its adoption, stepping away feels impossible. It's like admitting defeat on a personal mission.

I've thought about that conversation a lot in the months to come, and the more I sat and thought about my response, the more it made sense to explore what it would be like to let it manifest in my head. My defensive reaction to such a simple question revealed how deeply I had tied my self-worth to this mission. I had convinced myself that advancing Bitcoin adoption was not just my job, but my calling. This reflection led me to a simple but powerful truth:

If you think it's impossible to do (or not do/change) something, it's probably the most essential thing to do, or at least fully explore why you feel that way.

During this reflection, I took a week off and went to Colorado, where I spent most of my time at a mountain resort. The week off from social media and avoiding issues, support, and emails felt refreshing. On the drive to and during the resort, I listened to "The Creature from Jekyll Island," which, in my opinion, is more black-pilling than I thought it would be. As a bitcoiner, I felt like I'd heard it all. All the arguments, all the FIAT/FED/IMF issues, etc.

Hearing it all spelled out in that book was way more angering and eye-opening than I had thought. It's not something I thought much about after that week. Yet, the combination of taking a step back for a week (I had not taken any time off since we started) and listening to that book greatly influenced my later thinking. The best way to describe my perceptions after that is: "Oh, none of this matters at all." The weight of years spent obsessing over every technical detail, user complaint, and community debate suddenly felt hollow. The mission I had been so certain about, the one that had consumed my thoughts and driven my decisions for years, began to look different in this new light.

Reflections

I first heard of Bitcoin and was involved in it to some degree back in 2012. I won't describe my involvement, but I will say I saw no long-term upsides from being that early. For me, at the time, it was an internet currency and a cool new way to transact with something. When I started again in 2017, it was because I finally had some money & skill and was interested in spinning up mining rigs. I had done a few custom home server setups at the time, though I probably saw more upside by reselling GPUs. It wasn't until getting involved more in the community that I felt like it was truly something I could use in a (semi) private way however I wanted. It became an anarchy movement for me at that point. All of the "taking down the FED" and "circumventing the system" thoughts that many have with it.

A lot of those thoughts still resonate with me. The incentives around Bitcoin, mining, and energy make it a valuable asset, and I see that still being the case in the 5-10+ year timeframe to come. However, that's where my thoughts and involvement around it end now. I've stepped back from the endless cycle of trying to prove Bitcoin's worth to a world that wasn't asking for it.

This industry, and this world in general, will chew you up and spit you out. The reward of being anything in this industry (besides an exchange) has little upside. It is more akin to going against the grain and pulling teeth. Being in payments is even worse when even the most hardcore in this industry refuse to part with their Bitcoin (rightfully so) or resort to virtue signaling about actually using it.

The many years in this industry and coming to these realizations have left me with two main thoughts: 1. My efforts in this space are technically challenging/impressive yet unnecessary and don't matter. High-risk and low-reward. 2. Most Bitcoin startups and efforts also fall under this, but the clear value is in exchanges.

I was lured in by and cared the most about censorship resistance for a long time. However, censorship circumvention has proven time and again to be pointless in any serious setting. The need to use it as payment is a luxury; almost nobody cares still. There will forever be people that "pick up the mantle" and do something with wallets, often for free, which is another thing I care less about doing with my life. I know my work and thoughts are valuable, and I'm done giving that away for free or begging for breadcrumb grants and handouts. I know my worth.

Bitcoin has become a self-healing, self-sustaining network that will always persist in some way. I've always resonated with the aspects of Bitcoin being a decentralized organism. It is all-consuming. It will leech off the souls soldiers volunteer for and then move on to consume as many as possible. The community even reinforces this with a "slay your heroes" mentality. As soon as you're depleted for all you can provide, the people cast you away, leaving behind the value and time you gave up to the network. It doesn't matter what you do; it will use you, and the people will abuse you. Then, the newcomers lured into the price actions, philosophies, and "welcoming community" will rotate through and repeat.

The ones that make it through are either bending the knee to the state, resorting to degeneracy, or doing low-risk but sustainable work, potentially setting themselves up to leech off the real hard work of others. I've realized this and had enough. I work hard, I care about my work, I hate bullshit, and I want to make a meaningful impact while being realistic about what I can change in any given domain. Maybe it's just me, but I've had enough to realize that none of this matters, so I've moved on.

Some of this may sound a bit spiteful or defeatist, but that's where I've landed on and reflected upon over the past year, so I'm unapologetic about it if you don't feel the same way (yet). I won't shy away from sharing some of my raw frustrations here. In the end, a lot of my life (and others embedded in this space) has been devoted to money, and that's one of the worst things in the world to allow yourself to be consumed by.

Burnout

When the candle ran dry, I was a mess and didn't handle it well. It felt like everything was falling apart. Months were spent discussing what we would do, and we explored many options, though we needed to find something all four of us were happy with. When we came to a final decision and alerted the community, there was disappointment, of course, and understanding. Most importantly, some people reached out to talk, and those conversations meant a lot.

The number one piece of advice was to take a break like others had for years. I thought long and hard about that and took two weeks off, during which I tackled some personal projects and research. Still, "not doing something" is so foreign and impossible to me. Maybe that's the sign I should have taken, but the problem was never "work." The problem was the type of work and my dissatisfaction with the domain I was working in. High-risk, low-reward work.

Now

I'm about 6 months in since then, and I wanted to do a proper reflection, primarily for myself. The (now sustainable) grind has never left, and I feel pretty good. Marks taking over as CEO has helped a ton and has allowed me to focus on just the tech. The domain we've settled on (a new developer platform called OpenSecret and a private AI chat app called TryMaple) has a lot of upside in a bigger space. This new platform's focus on valuing security and privacy still aligns with my long-standing personal beliefs. To top it off, I'm working on a lot of exciting technology that is both challenging and has not been done by many people yet, at least in an accessible way. I would say where I am now is high-risk and high-reward. Though less risk than it was before.

Sustainable work is essential to me, too. Having felt like I've wasted or neglected a lot in the past decade, focusing on my health and well-being has been another focus, and it's gone well so far. I've already lost about 20 pounds. The last two weeks, I hit the gym 5 days in a row, which I had not done since High School. The following 6 months will be the most critical 6 months than the last 10 years. Can we make this pivot work before we run out of money? Can I finally reverse the 10 years of terrible health and bad habits? At the very least, I will not fail in both regards, and I hope I can come out ahead and set up for success. Even if that means shutting out everything else during this sprint.

As I look forward, I'm cautiously optimistic. What I have learned from my time in the Bitcoin industry has been invaluable, even if painful at times. I'm entering this new phase with a clearer understanding of what truly matters to me - professionally and personally. While the challenges ahead are significant, I'm approaching them with a renewed sense of purpose and a healthier perspective on risk and reward. This journey has taught me that sometimes, the most growth does not come from stubbornly persisting but from being able to change course when necessary, even if it feels drastic.