They can't kill you in any way that matters. All they can do is slow you down.
Rose Peck
2025-12-26
I played Dark Souls at a very formative time in my life.
I've been thinking about emotional resiliency a lot recently.
As a programmer, your emotional resiliency is tested frequently. Mysterious program failures, inscrutable compiler errors, unclear documentation, frustrating bootstrapping, and hours spent on bugfixing are all common trials in this line of work. And, all of these are worsened by the fact that, in theory, all your program's shortcomings are ultimately your fault, somehow.
In this field, you need to be able to handle these things. Either to push through them, or to spring back after they hit you. All fields have their struggles, of course, but this is the pain I know best. This is not to imply that we can not or should not seek to improve our tooling, our practices, our skills, and our systems. Doing so is both good and important! But the suffering will never get down to zero. The pain is baked into the loaf, I'm afraid. Part of the reason they pay you the big bucks is because you suffer through it.
So, how do we manage it?
"I tire so easily now, and my old legs seem to ache more and more. Still, I'm lucky to grow old at all... so many others haven't." -The Last Stag, Hollow Knight
Different people manage it in different ways, sometimes in radically different ways. There is no single approach to resiliency, and "just try harder" is typically not very useful advice.1 Instead, I've been thinking in terms of archetypes, calling towards the concepts of character archetypes that you see in creative writing. I've stumbled upon a few archetypes from different folks I've encountered in my travels:
This is by no means a rigorous or complete list, and it's also very possible (and, in fact, likely) that a single person could fit into multiple of these. The point is that having words to identify patterns of resiliency can help us to see these things in ourselves, and in others.2
But when I think of myself, and how I manage the unending struggle of existence, I am not any of these. I am Undead.
"The mortal form is fragile and death comes quickly, but the Spirit is strong and it clings to life like only a mortal can." -VaatiVidya
I do not remember exactly when the cursemark first appeared on my flesh. Perhaps I was born with it, but I do not think so. Mine is in the traditional location: on my back, just covering my right shoulder blade. The accursed circle, burned into my skin, glows a dull orange, slightly warm.
Undead, as an archetype, are defined by the fact that they cannot be killed. No matter how many times you knock them down, they just keep getting back up. Double tap them with your shotgun all you like; all it does is slow them down. No matter what you do, they just keep walking.
When talking about work (and life), death comes in many forms. There are small deaths: sighs of frustration, single tears, moments of hopeless despair, renunciations that I'll never work in this field again... And there are large deaths: hours curled in a ball sobbing, fits of hopeless rage, shattering of personalities...
I've died more times and in more ways than I can remember. And every time, after I've cried and yelled and broken, I get back up. And I keep walking.
Because what the hell else am I going to do?
"Look at me, Boomhauer. I'm fat, and I'm old, and every day I'm just gonna wake up fatter and older! Yet, somehow I manage to drag this fat old bald bastard out into the alley every day! I'm out there! Digging holes, falling into them, climbing out, trying again!" -Bill Dauterive, King of the Hill
There's a Muhammad Ali quote that seems to be about undeath, but it never resonated with me.
I tried to find a version with less JPEG artifacting, but honestly I think it's more authentic this way.
This gets put on motivational posters in gyms and corporate offices and the like. To me, this quote and its context feel very wrong, despite saying the right words. It feels like Ali is talking about "toughing it out". About gritting your teeth through pain and fighting through it. This is not the cry of the undead.
Undead are not hard to kill. We are not particularly strong, nor are we particularly hearty. If I encounter a minor inconvenience, I will cry. Killing an undead is not the hard part.
As an undead, when they knock you down, you can stay down for as long as you like. Cry your lungs out, scream in rage, wallow in despair, stare at the ceiling for a few hours or more. Take whatever you need; sometimes the cursemark takes some time to activate. But once you've emptied out the pain, the critical moment comes.
At these times, I ask myself if this is the end. If I've finally spent the last scrap of energy within me. If they've finally crushed the last piece of my spirit. If I've finally broken in a way that can't be put back together.
Someday, that will happen. But not yet.
And I get back on my feet.
And I start walking again.
"If you fall down seven times, stand up eight. That's the cry of the undead. It's not a matter of life or death; it's about what breaks first: your will or the barriers in your way." -VaatiVidya
Walking is an important word here.
Typically, undead are not sprinters. We're not charging forward for the cause, fighting with the strength of 10 men.4 When we're working, we're not working particularly fast, or even very "hard", by most people's standards. We just quietly shuffle forwards, slowly and steadily making progress. Getting killed or knocked down along the way, but always grinding forward.
We do not usually win races. We win the long game. Because we can't be killed. As long as you have the will to continue, as long as you can find it in yourself to stand up again, eventually, all barriers will fall to the slow, inexorable advance. Every death is just part of the process; a stepping stone to your goal.
"At times, you will fail, and things will get worse. That happens. But there's no point in berating yourself. There is only one thing to do. Keep the core spinning." -CGP Grey
I say we are unkillable, but I am not so fool as to think that I literally cannot die. Someday, the True Death will come for me, and they'll get me for good. Every death- it gnaws at me. If you're not careful, it will slowly hollow you out from the inside. I... have been there before...
I say that we win the long game, but we cannot win the longest game. Hundreds of years from now, all that we have ever accomplished will be nothing but dust. Our victories will be wiped away, and no one will remember us. You can't beat entropy.
But it doesn't matter.
In a world where everything is dust, where no accomplishment is kept, where failures are inevitable, the only thing that differentiates us is how far we make it before we are claimed. The choice to continue becomes the only choice that matters. Because if we are all doomed to be claimed by the void, then every step, every breath, every inch we claw back from it is a victory.
This is how I do it. They can kill me all they like. I don't care. Because it doesn't matter how many accomplishments they wipe away. The only thing that matters is how far I make it.
So I keep walking.
The day I stop is the day I die.
"Good bye then. Be safe, friend. Don't you dare go Hollow." -Laurentius, Dark Souls
This is also true outside of emotional resiliency and programming. ↩
I may write posts about all of these at some point, but it will be challenging, as I am not most of them. But, here is the shortest version ever: Artisans take pride in the quality of the things they produce, Gardeners tend their collection of plants with small nudges to encourage the best outcomes, Angels of Retribution channel their anger and rage into making things better, Bridge Four gets strength from going through hard things with their collection of friends, and Mamma Bears take the suffering to protect their children from it. ↩
Seek seek lest. ↩
See Angels of Retribution. ↩
