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I Don’t Remember Half of What I Built: The Weird Reality of Filling a Portfolio

Constantin Potapov
15 min

What happens when you try to assemble a portfolio after 20 years? Whole projects, periods, achievements vanish from memory. 20+ cases in 2 days — and half felt new to me. Honest notes on amnesia, mental health, and accepting my path.

The Portfolio‑Amnesia Syndrome

20 years in software. Dozens of projects. Hundreds of thousands of LOC. In two days I logged 20+ cases.

I open content/projects/ and think: “was that even mine?” Some projects come back with the smell of coffee in the office. Others — like a parallel life.

Honestly: sometimes I don’t remember entire periods. Like I “did it” but didn’t live through it. Autopilot. Scarier than any deadline.

20+ cases in 2 days. Half looked new. And that’s only the first 10 years — until 2014.

Context of the Era

The “run faster” culture — sprints‑releases‑meetings — erases memory anchors. We remember “launched and +18%,” but forget how we got there — and ourselves on the way.

Wake → tasks → code → commit → review → release → sleep. Year. Two. Five. Ten. Project after project, you don’t remember. You function.

Symptoms

  • I remember the midnight marketplace release and conversion growth. I don’t remember the three months before.
  • I remember an architecture argument. I don’t remember how it ended — only a commit.
  • I remember decisions. I don’t remember the path to them.
  • I remember wins. I don’t remember failures.

Diagnosis (Working)

When emotions are zero, memory doesn’t write “event.” It writes “noise.” You build, commit, deploy — and erase yourself from your own story.

— Burnout. Work stays; meaning leaves. You still do, but feel no joy or satisfaction. Only tiredness.

— Dissociation. You do, but don’t live it. A defense: too much stress — brain dims emotions. You function. For years.

— Perfectionism. “Good job” never lands; only “better.” Project after project — joy never arrives, only the next task.

— Painful memories get blocked. Failures teach more than wins, but they hurt — memory erases pain.

Beyond the Metrics

Portfolios show pretty numbers: LCP 1.8s, +18% conversion, 99.9% uptime. That’s not the whole story.

Marketplace CWV: 2.5 MB hero (who does that?!), render‑blocking CSS, SEO falling, deadlines burning.

Monorepo: 8 circular deps (how?!), every release a domino, team stuck, VSCode crashes.

Analytics platform: 3–5 prod crashes a week, dying under load, metrics drowning in logs.

Behind every “I saved it” were stress and digging out. I remember the metrics. I don’t remember how I survived.

What I’m Changing

  • Slow down. Stop grabbing every project. Allow myself to pause and think.
  • Live, not function. Be present when I do things, not on autopilot.
  • Weekly “joy log”: 3 things I’m proud of (not necessarily code).
  • Memory anchors: screenshots, in‑the‑moment notes, demos, graphs, a photo of the whiteboard.
  • Tiny retros after releases: what I feel, not just “what we shipped.”
  • Public posts — grounding and feedback.
  • Therapy. Hygiene, not a firetruck. Understand roots and what I really want.

Business Insights

  • A portfolio is curation, not chronology. 6–8 cases with context, metrics, role.
  • Clients care about before/after — not the entire tech stack.
  • Docs “while hot” save hours later.
3/week
joy log
1 demo
per week
1 retro
after release

If You Recognize Yourself

— You’re not alone. Many do. Many. They just don’t say it out loud.

— It’s not shameful. And you can work with it.

— Start with honesty: “I don’t remember — that’s a problem.”

— See a professional. Therapy isn’t shame; it’s like dentistry for the mind.

— Add tiny anchors to your routine. Today.

Acceptance

This is my life. I built things. They lived, broke, were fixed. I shined; I failed. That’s normal.

The past is context, not a sentence. Yes, I ran on autopilot. Yes, I forgot much. Yes, I could’ve done things differently. I can’t go back.

I can only choose where to go next.

I choose to live, not function.

So I’m moving to my own products. Building games. Writing more.

Not because I “should,” but because I want to remember this — not just “I saved it,” but the real experience: stress, failures, growth. That’s where life happens.


P.S. This is the most personal post I’ve written. I usually write about tech, architecture, products. Sometimes you need to write about what actually matters. Thanks for reading.

See also