8 Years on Hive — A Reflection

Hello Hive friends,

These vacation days have been a bit disorienting for me. One of those moments when you don’t really know what day it is anymore. A few days ago, while shopping with my mother-in-law, she asked me if it was Wednesday or Thursday, and I told her it was Saturday. Something similar happened to me shortly after: I checked the calendar, saw January 4th, and thought, “That date sounds important.” It wasn’t until I received the notification from HiveBuzz that it fully clicked.

Today marks 8 years on Hive.

I haven’t been as consistent with posting over the past few years, but I didn’t want to let this milestone pass without writing something. I’ve written a post for almost every anniversary, and this one felt worth reflecting on as well.

They say that after seven years, people change so much that many relationships don’t survive that cycle. Now imagine eight years. I’m definitely not the same person I was when I started. I feel I’ve kept my core values, but my perspective, priorities, and interests have evolved.

Back in 2018, my goals were very different. Some of them I achieved, others are still pending, and many simply transformed. At that time, Hive (Steem back then) was a place to experiment, to learn how to write, to understand how publishing worked, and to earn a bit of crypto along the way.
Today, Hive is much more than a platform to me. It represents work, responsibility, long-term decisions, and, honestly, a higher level of mental load.

Over time, Hive taught me lessons that weren’t obvious at the beginning.

I learned how to communicate complex ideas more clearly. Not just by writing better, but by explaining processes, decisions, conflicts, and proposals to people with very different backgrounds, and by saying the same thing in different ways depending on the audience. I also learned to argue without imposing and to listen, even when it meant accepting that I was wrong.

I also learned how to work with people from many countries, cultures, and ways of thinking. It sounds great in theory, but in practice, it involves friction, misunderstandings, impossible schedules, and very different working styles. Over time, I understood that not everyone works the same way I do, and that many problems are less about intent and more about communication.

Hive also helped me understand the real value of time and energy. At the beginning, you want to be everywhere, help with everything, and have an opinion on everything. With the years, you realize that time is limited, and that saying “yes” to something usually means saying “no” to something else — often family, rest, or yourself. Not everything deserves the same priority, and learning that isn’t easy.

One of the most important lessons has been learning how to set boundaries. Not from frustration or drama, but from focus, mental health, and self-respect. Understanding that not saying “yes” to everything doesn’t mean being less committed, but being more intentional. Adjusting direction isn’t giving up; it’s refining the path.

With that also came the realization that staying deeply involved in the same ecosystem for a long time has costs that aren’t always visible. Hive has given me many opportunities, but it has also shown me what accumulated fatigue feels like, and that constant sense of being “on call.” Being fully involved doesn’t guarantee that everything will feel the same forever, and recognizing that early is part of growth.

Today, I’m in a different stage. Not better or worse, just different.

I’m still here, still building within Hive, and still contributing, particularly through 3Speak, Proyecto Aliento, and Mantequilla Soft, but with a more deliberate and strategic mindset. My focus now is not on being everywhere, but on contributing where it truly makes sense and where I can create real impact.

At the same time, I’m also open to exploring new opportunities within Hive. That can mean evolving my role, collaborating with different projects, or even shifting focus to areas where my experience can be better applied. This isn’t about leaving anything behind, but about staying aligned with how I grow and how the ecosystem itself evolves.

Hive continues to matter to me. It’s not something I’m stepping away from, but something that now coexists with new questions, interests, and possibilities. For me, that’s also growth: understanding that you can remain part of something without it being the only thing that defines your path.

I’m grateful to everyone who has been part of this journey, those who are still here and those who are not. Every interaction, including the difficult ones, left something behind.

As of today, I don’t know exactly what year nine will look like.
I don’t have big promises or epic speeches.

I only know that I’m writing this from a much more conscious place than I was in 2018.

And for me, that’s already a win.