One of the hardest things I’ve learned as a researcher is this:

If people can’t see the depth of what you’ve done, it doesn’t matter.

You could spend years thinking through a layered, nuanced idea. Build a framework that connects pieces nobody else has connected.

And what happens?

Someone skims your work in 30 seconds and says:

“Huh, seems basic.”

It’s crushing.

But it’s not because you did something wrong.

It’s because most people won’t ever read deeply enough to notice.

So you’re stuck doing the most paradoxical thing imaginable:

Make your work simple enough to remember, but layered enough to respect.

That tension? That’s the grind behind every “cute” idea.

That’s why your best work feels so invisible.

The trick is not to dumb it down—but to distill it.

And distilling takes more pain, time, and quiet struggle than anyone sees.

So if you’re in the middle of that painful space, trying to say something real in a way people will understand:

You’re not alone.

That’s where the real work is.