Why I Built asyncwork.live
I've been coding for 15 years and I rarely built something for myself. Not because I can't. Because I never have a reason that matter enough. Until now.
The Question That Change Everything
A year ago, I bought a book, "What's your dream?", by Simon Squibb. I didn't read it fast. I read it slow, page by page, while I was figuring out my life.
Simon ask three simple questions:
- What are my likes and dislikes?
- What is my pain?
- How can I help others?
Simple questions. But when you actually sit down and answer them honestly, they break you open.
I've been coding since 2011. 15 years. I know how to learn. I know how to build. Coding was never my problem. There is nothing wrong with my learning process. I just do things while learning. That's my style. Always has been.
So what is my pain then?
I try the obvious answers first. Money? Sure, but everyone has that problem. Skills? There are gaps, but after 15 years, I don't lose sleep over it.
Nothing fit. So I sit with the question longer. Weeks. Months.
And then something hit me. Something I never talk about.
The Mask
I need to be honest here. Not the LinkedIn kind of honest where you share a "failure" that is actually a success story. Real honest.
I have ADHD.
I know what you might think. Everyone on the internet say they have ADHD now. But this is not a trend for me. This is my whole life.
I grew up feeling different. Not in the cool way. In the "why is he so weird" way.
I talk too fast. Or not clear enough. New places scare me. New people scare me even more. I was always the quiet one in the corner, or the one who suddenly say something strange and the room go silent.
ADHD itself is not the problem at work. I can code. I can learn. My brain work fine for that.
But growing up, people don't see the brain. They see the weird kid. And when you hear "weird" enough times as a child, it stay with you forever.
At some point when I was young, I learn something: the safest thing to do is hide.
So I start wearing a mask. Every day. Every job. Every team.
Smile. Nod. Pretend you understand the social rules. Pretend you're normal. Pretend you're fine.
I did this for years. I became really good at it. So good that nobody know I was doing it. But the problem with wearing a mask every day is that you forget what your real face looks like.
And you get tired. So, so tired.
The Company That Change Me
In 2022, I joined a company. New language, new stack. Python was not even my main skill. I was slow. I was learning from zero again.
But something here feel different.
Nobody rush me. Nobody judge me for being slow. Nobody make me feel stupid for asking questions.
The CEO. He notice small things. The kind of effort that nobody else would care about, he care about. Not in a "good job, keep it up" corporate way. In a real way. Like he actually see you.
The CTO. The smartest guy in the company. But also socially awkward. Blunt with his words. Honestly, more afraid of people than me. And I thought I was the worst one.
But he care so deeply about the product that he would debate with his own CEO if something broke because of a bad decision. No filter. No politics. Just honesty.
I still remember watching them argue. Technical things. Non-technical things. Everything. They debate all the time.
But at the end of the day, they just enjoy each other's existence. They're not truly fighting over something. They just care enough to be honest with each other.
It was so nostalgic to see that. Two imperfect people, not pretending. I was longing for this kind of relationship at work for years.
My teammates were honest with each other. Not polite-honest. Real-honest. They support each other, and they tell you when something is wrong.
For the first time in my career, I don't need to wear the mask.
I can just... be myself. The weird, too-focused, talks-too-fast version of myself. And nobody care. Or maybe they care, but in a good way.
What Connection Actually Do
Let me be clear about something. I'm not stupid. I was never stupid.
But ADHD make me focus on everything at the same time. That's what it does. My brain don't lack focus. It has too much of it, pointing in every direction at once. I know I can do the work. I just cannot stay on one thing long enough to finish it.
Except when someone see me.
When I feel visible. When I feel noticed. When someone appreciate what I do. Suddenly, I can see where I need to focus. All that energy that was pointing everywhere finally have a direction. And I keep it long enough to go deep. Long enough to stay for hours. Long enough to become an expert in it.
That's exactly what happen in this company.
Nobody call me weird. Nobody make me want to disappear. They just see me, and that was enough.
Because here is the thing nobody understand about me. I was not hiding because I want to be alone. I was hiding because I want to connect with people, but every time I try, they see me as weird. So I learn to disappear. If you cannot see me, you cannot call me weird. If you cannot call me weird, it doesn't hurt.
But disappearing have a price. Nobody see your work. Nobody see your effort. And without that, my brain have no direction. No anchor. Nothing to hold the focus in place.
This company break that cycle. They see me. They appreciate me. And for the first time, all that scattered energy have somewhere to go.
In 2024, I was promoted to SDE3. One level under principal. Not because I suddenly become smarter. I was always smart enough. But because for the first time, I have people around me who make me visible. And visible is all I need to focus.
The Pattern
After that, I start looking back at my whole career. And the pattern is so clear that I cannot believe I never see it before.
Every time I'm visible, noticed, appreciated, connected, my energy have direction. I go deep. I build things I'm proud of.
Every time I'm invisible, new company, no connection, just me and the code and the silence, the energy scatter again. I have no anchor. I start hiding again. I survive, but I don't grow.
15 years. Same pattern. Over and over.
My pain was never about code. It was never about money or skills or experience.
It was loneliness.
The feeling that nobody is here with me. The feeling that I'm working alone in a room and nobody know I exist. The feeling that I need to pretend I'm fine because showing the real me is too risky.
That's my pain. That's what Simon's question was trying to make me see.
So I Built It
Here is the funny thing. I have the skills. 15 years of building things for other people. I can code. I can ship. I know how to make a product work.
But I rarely have the motivation to build something for myself. Every side project idea die in my head before I even open my laptop. I have the tools but no direction to point them.
Then I understand my pain was loneliness. And something explode inside me.
The urge just burst out. All of it. At once. Like all the scattered energy was just waiting for a reason that actually matter to me. And now it have one.
I didn't start building because of discipline. I start building because for the first time, the problem is mine. And I cannot ignore it anymore.
I built asyncwork.live because it is the space I wish I had for my whole career.
You enter the space. You are present there. You can talk, or just be quiet. Your work is visible to others. You can celebrate it together, or just enjoy the silence.
That's it.
Yes, it will look like a copy of gather.town or Kumospace. I know. But it's not. It has a different goal. A different purpose.
Gather is for meetings. Kumospace is for team collaboration. asyncwork is for the moment after all of that. The moment when you close the meeting, everyone disappear, and you're alone again with your screen.
asyncwork is for that silence. The one that is too quiet. The one that make you open Twitter or Reddit or YouTube, not because you're lazy, but because your brain is screaming for some presence. Any presence.
I built it for that moment.
An Imperfect Space
Right now, asyncwork is still empty most of the time. It's early. It's imperfect.
Like myself.
But I enjoy working on it. Every pixel, every feature, every small improvement. Because for the first time, I'm building something that I truly understand. Not because I study the market. Because I live the problem.
In my imagination, one day, asyncwork will be a space where you don't feel lonely anymore. A place where you can find someone you resonate with. Someone who understand that you don't need a conversation — you just need to know somebody is there.
We're not there yet.
But the door is open.
So if you're tired of pretending you're fine working alone, come join me in my imperfect space. Be part of the journey too.
I will welcome you. Not because it's good for my numbers. But because I understand your problem. Because it's my problem too.
If this story resonate with you, share it. Not for me. For the person in your network who is working alone right now and pretending they're fine.