December 29, 2024. Do We Fear the Truth More Than We Fear Lies?.

It's 3 AM, and I'm staring at my computer screen, watching my prototype system fail for what feels like the millionth time. The terminal is flooded with error messages, each one a tiny red reminder of everything that isn't working. My eyes are burning from too much caffeine and too little sleep, and there's this voice in my head saying, "Just give up. This is too hard. You're not cut out for this."

But here's what fascinates me about this moment: it's not the failure that's keeping me awake. It's not even the cascade of errors painting my screen red. It's the realization that what I'm really afraid of isn't the possibility of failure – it's the certainty of what this moment is telling me about myself.

Building Abdi & Brothers Company has taught me something profound about truth and lies. Each error message is a truth teller, each failed test a revelation. They're not just telling me about bugs in my code; they're showing me gaps in my knowledge, flaws in my thinking, limits to my current capabilities. And if I'm being honest – truly, painfully honest – these truths scare me more than any comforting lie I could tell myself.

In the tech world, we have this fascinating relationship with truth. We build systems that demand absolute precision, that can't function without perfect truth in every line of code, yet we often shield ourselves from the harder truths about our own limitations. We'll spend hours debugging a program but hesitate to debug our own thinking, our own assumptions, our own beliefs about what we're capable of.

I remember my first major breakthrough with our prototype. It didn't come from a moment of brilliance or a flash of insight. It came from finally accepting a truth I'd been avoiding: I didn't know enough. Not just about coding or system architecture, but about the very problem I was trying to solve. The lies were comfortable: "I'll figure it out as I go," "I just need to try harder," "Someone else must have solved this before." The truth was harder: I needed to stop building and start learning.

This pattern extends beyond coding. In every aspect of building this company, I've noticed how we collectively tend to prefer comfortable lies over uncomfortable truths. We tell ourselves our education system just needs minor tweaks when the truth is it needs fundamental reimagining. We convince ourselves that our current way of working is sustainable when the truth is it's burning us out. We believe we're pushing the boundaries of innovation when really we're just redecorating the walls of our comfort zone.

The most dangerous lies aren't the ones others tell us – they're the ones we tell ourselves. "I'll start tomorrow." "This is good enough." "Someone else will solve this problem." These lies are seductive because they protect us from the discomfort of truth, from the responsibility that comes with knowing better.

But here's what I've learned through countless nights like this one: truth, despite its sting, is the only real foundation for growth. Every time I've chosen to face a hard truth – about my skills, about my company's direction, about the challenges ahead – it's opened up new possibilities I couldn't have seen from within the comfort of lies.

The greatest innovations, the most meaningful changes, the most lasting impacts don't come from hiding in comfortable lies but from embracing and working with difficult truths. They come from looking at error messages at 3 AM and seeing them not as defeats but as signposts pointing toward growth.

So yes, we probably do fear truth more than lies. Truth demands action. Truth requires change. Truth means responsibility. But maybe that's exactly why we need to embrace it. Because in the end, the future belongs to those who can look truth in the eye and say, "Show me what I need to learn."

The error messages are still flooding my screen, but I'm not looking away anymore. Each one is a truth I need to face, a lesson I need to learn, a step I need to take. Because the biggest lie of all would be believing that growth comes from comfort, that innovation comes from certainty, that success comes from avoiding the hard truths about where we are and how far we have to go.

It's time to build something real, something that matters. And that can only start with truth.