How an RV trip through California helped Abduzeedo’s founder overcome burnout and find a sustainable growth rate in the age of AI.
Lately I find myself thinking more than usual about my path as a designer and my professional career. Maybe it’s because Abduzeedo turns twenty this year (a milestone that serves as a sobering frame of reference), but mainly because I’ve been thinking about the nature of the journey itself.
Last year was tough. I felt a constant, underlying stress, fueled by the rapid changes in our industry and the relentless discourse around AI and its disruptive power. Watching everyone else share their latest breakthroughs created a lingering “fear of missing out.” I felt this urgent pressure to speed up, to go faster, to arrive first or risk being completely left behind.
That pace eventually led to an inevitable collapse. I had an anxiety attack. It was a shocking experience, but it served as a necessary wake-up call. Just like when my office was robbed years ago, the catalyst that allowed me to start Abduzeedo, this moment forced a shift in focus. I needed to disconnect, cut back on the noise of social media and digital consumption.
I’ve always loved road trips. For years I have considered purchasing a camper. Every time I drove past a campsite, I felt a pang of envy as I saw people sitting around a fire enjoying the simpler rhythms of life. But every time I did the math, the pragmatic side of my brain took over. I would tell myself that the cost of hotels for ten years wouldn’t even break even on the investment.
In a leap of faith, I ended up ignoring the math and following my heart. I have a van with only one purpose: to hit the road. I wanted to disconnect so I could finally reconnect.
As I drive through California with my family and visit various campsites, one fundamental thing has changed. I’m forced to take the slow lane.
In the past, driving was always about ‘getting’. Going from point A to point B. In smaller, faster cars, the instinct is to stay in the fast lane and push to arrive as quickly as possible, fearing that every minute lost was a missed opportunity. It was always about the destination, never about the journey.
The rules are different on the slow track. I can’t go fast. I can’t get past it easily. My only option is to exist during the journey.
This limitation has opened my eyes to the environment that I often ignored in the past. I see the views now. I notice the small towns and the changing landscapes. Driving has become fun again, provided I don’t hold up a line of cars eager to reach the speeds I once did. My stress has disappeared because I have accepted that this is simply the way to travel. There’s no reason to push: I know that if I take a corner too fast in a heavy van, the result won’t be efficiency, it’ll be fear.
“Taking the slow lane” has become my new philosophy for both my personal and professional life.
“Taking the slow lane” has become my new philosophy for both my personal and professional life. There is so much to learn, especially with the evolution of AI. I’m motivated to master it and I want to reach those new limits, but I no longer feel the need to race there.
I choose the slow way. I come to appreciate my surroundings, pay more attention to the world as it changes, and trust that I will get where I need to be exactly on time.
Some photography from the last trip to Arnold and Bear Valley in California
Photography
#Slow #Lane