The 3 AM Confession of a Hope Addict
Last night, thanks to a persistent mosquito and my overactive mind, I managed about an hour of sleep. Instead of tossing and turning, my brain lit up with blog ideas—new posts to write, CSS tweaks to make, ways to improve OldDogZeroTricks.com. At nearly 60, lying there energized by possibility instead of exhausted by insomnia, I realized something: I’m addicted to hope.
Not the healthy kind of optimism that gets you through tough days. I’m talking about that restless, tinkering, “maybe this time” energy that has kept me building websites for two decades—most of which have quietly faded into digital dust.
Is this addiction serving me, or am I just avoiding the bigger question of what I’m actually trying to accomplish?
The Comfortable Drift of Dreams
I’ve drifted through life more than I’ve driven through it. Not particularly ambitious, some might say—and they wouldn’t be wrong. After achieving my one big dream (Commercial helicopter pilot’s license at 28), I found myself in that strange territory of “what now?”
The money ran out before I could take my instructor’s practical exam, though I passed the written. But here’s the thing: I didn’t miss flying much. So long as I have a worthy role or mission, I tend to be okay with wherever life takes me.
That drifting taught me things a linear path wouldn’t have—how to find meaning in unexpected places, how to serve others in classrooms and fields, how to appreciate what I have while still nurturing quiet ambitions.
But reaching this age has also reminded me of ambitions I haven’t reached. Specifically, the paycheck-to-paycheck grind when one of my loves is computers and being online, yet I have no online income or passive income to show for decades of digital passion.
The Spiritual Challenge of Money
If we’re here to serve others, then maybe my hobby hope addiction has served a purpose—filling gaps between work, taking my mind off the daily grind, preventing that “why bother with anything?” feeling that can creep in. It’s allowed time to flow, given me alone time, and given others space too.
I have natural faith for many things, yet I feel that putting money on a pedestal is my spiritual challenge to overcome. There’s something about chasing financial success that feels like it could taint the purity of creating something meaningful.
But let’s be honest—I’d like to have faith that I can be financially successful. Not for luxury, but for the freedom it represents, and especially to help those I care about.
When Tinkering Meets Purpose
My previous websites were mostly about computers or smartphone ROMs—technical content that was more SEO challenge than meaningful communication. I enjoyed the tinkering more than needing people to visit, which gave me purpose but defeated the whole idea of having a blog.
The tinkering keeps my mind busy and analytical—learning about APIs, CSS, fonts, solving little digital puzzles. But now I’m older and living alone, I’d like to make a real go of this blog. For once, the content feels potentially evergreen and useful for people, as opposed to blogging about Microsoft Windows updates.
There’s something different about writing for fellow travelers dealing with aging, loss, purpose, and the quiet victories of daily life. This isn’t just hobby tinkering—it feels like mission.
What Success Actually Looks Like
What does “successful” mean for this blog? Having plenty of visitors and people who want to comment. The feeling that the content resonates and helps some people navigate age-related challenges. I’ve never had ads on a blog in over 20 years of building them, so even that small potential step feels significant.
Just having a platform for my thoughts passes time, but risks being a waste of time. The therapy of chatting with AI and working through ideas has value, but the end goal must be a fruitful and worthy blog that serves others.
Will focusing on success change my relationship with the writing? I don’t think so. What motivates my writing is expressing reality that others might identify with. I don’t mind if people think I’m weak or emotional with some of my anecdotes, so long as the overall message helps them somehow.
The Energy of Possibility
Here’s the strange part: when I’m sleep-deprived but my mind is racing with blog ideas, it’s 100% energizing. That restless hope, that “maybe this time” feeling—it might be addiction, but it’s also fuel. I’ve touched on this restless creative energy in How Do You Know You Are Mentally Healthy?.
Maybe the question isn’t whether to chase dreams or money, but how to chase both without losing the joy in either. How to build something meaningful that also sustains life practically.
At this stage, I’m still figuring it out. The helicopter dream is behind me (obviously), achieved and complete. This blog dream is different—less about personal accomplishment, more about connection and service.
Perhaps that’s the evolution of dreams as we age: from “what can I achieve?” to “what can I contribute?”
The Honest Ledger
Some nights, lying awake with possibility buzzing through my mind, I wonder if I’m fooling myself. Is this authentic hope or just sophisticated procrastination? Am I building something worthwhile or just keeping busy?
But then morning comes, I get my coffee, and I start writing. The words flow naturally, honestly. Comments arrive from people who say “this resonates” or “I needed to read this today.”
Maybe the addiction to hope isn’t the problem. Maybe it’s the fuel that keeps us creating, contributing, believing there’s still something meaningful to build—even when we can’t see the whole blueprint yet.
What about you? Are you chasing dreams, chasing money, or trying to find that balance between both? Have you found yourself addicted to hope in ways that energize or exhaust you?
Share your thoughts below—what drives your dreams these days, and how do you know when you’re building something worthwhile versus just keeping busy?
