“Parasite.”

That’s the word my wife used for me.

Not during a shouting match.
Not in the middle of a dramatic breakdown.

She said it in frustration, out of exhaustion and fear. And before anyone jumps to conclusions, let me say this clearly—I understand why she feels that way.

This post is not about blaming my wife.
It’s about explaining a life that most people never get to see from the inside.

So let me talk to you like a friend for a few minutes.

The Version of Me You See vs. The One at Home

You probably know me through my writing or posts. The guy who writes on LinkedIn, runs a gym, talks about AI, builds products, and keeps saying, “I’m building something.”

What you don’t see is how confusing that looks from inside a marriage, especially when effort doesn’t immediately translate into income.

From the outside, it can look like instability. From the inside, it feels like motion—constant, intentional motion.

That gap is where most misunderstandings are born.

Twenty Years in IT, and Still Feeling Out of Place

I’ve been in IT since 2003. More than twenty years now.

I’ve worked across generations of technology—mainframes to cloud, COBOL to modern stacks, large companies, decent money, stable roles. On paper, it looked like a solid career.

But internally, something always felt off.

Not in a dramatic “this job is terrible” way. More like a quiet, persistent feeling that this life wasn’t truly mine.

Jobs drain me. Not because I’m lazy or incapable, but because my brain doesn’t work well inside rigid boxes. I don’t hate work. I hate being owned by someone else’s priorities for most of my waking life.

Building on the Side, and the Cost of Half-Commitment

So I did what many people wired like me tend to do. I built things on the side.

Startups, ideas, experiments. Some serious, some exploratory.

I didn’t always share everything with my wife. Not because I was trying to deceive her, but because every conversation quickly turned into fear, arguments, and pressure to “be practical.”

Looking back, I can admit this now—hiding things was a mistake. Half-commitment kills startups. I learned that lesson the hard way.

OXOFIT: When Proof Finally Appeared—and Then Vanished

In 2017, I started OXOFIT as an e-commerce brand.

This one mattered deeply to me. I wasn’t chasing hype or trends. I was chasing proof—proof that I wasn’t broken, that entrepreneurship wasn’t a fantasy, that I wasn’t wasting my life.

And for a while, OXOFIT did well.

Then COVID arrived and wiped out years of effort in a matter of months. Loans surfaced, stress multiplied, trust took damage. The emotional cost was heavy.

I slipped into depression, shut down emotionally, and did what felt safe at the time—I went back fully into my job.

The Truth That Age Forces You to Face

As you grow older, one thing becomes very clear. You can lie to others for a long time, but you can’t lie to yourself forever.

In my 40s, I realized something uncomfortable but honest. If I don’t build, create, and experiment, I don’t feel alive.

So I tried again.

OXOFIT and the Reality of Real Risk

In December 2023, I opened OXOFIT Fitness Centre . A physical business with real rent, real salaries, and real risk.

Three months later, I lost my IT job in March 2024. There was no dramatic exit. Just… done.

So 2024 became survival mode.

I ran the gym end-to-end—reception, sales, operations, software, trainer management. Everything that needed to be done, I did.

The gym did decently. Not spectacular, but stable. Enough to breathe, but not enough to relax.

2025: Choosing Direction Over Comfort

By 2025, reality hit again. The gym could grow, but it wouldn’t become a unicorn. And I’m not built for “just okay.”

So I moved into AI and ML seriously. Not by watching random YouTube videos, but by enrolling in a Masters in AI/ML.

At the same time, I started writing. That’s how bitbybharat.com was born—not as a content experiment, but as a way to think clearly in public.

Writing helps me stay sane. Building helps me stay hopeful. Learning helps me stay dangerous.

We partnered with Cultfit, the gym improved, and revenue became more predictable. Still, if I had a job, I would undoubtedly be earning much more. That’s just a fact.

Where I Stand Today

It's January, 2026 - already into new year.

Here’s my life, without drama or exaggeration.

I’m studying AI/ML.
I’m running OXOFIT.
I’m building my first fully self-coded SaaS product.
I’m writing consistently.

I am earning, just not as much as a senior employee would.

The trade-off is time.

Time to learn deeply.
Time to build without permission.
Time to fail fast and try again.

That freedom is priceless to me.

To my wife, understandably, it looks like instability. And that’s where the word “parasite” came from.

What I Need to Say Clearly

Let me be very clear about this.

I am not sitting idle.
I am not avoiding responsibility.
I am not gambling blindly.

I am working harder than I ever did in a job.

But effort without visible income scares people, especially families and especially spouses who value safety and predictability.

Here’s the uncomfortable truth. Society respects outcomes, not journeys.

If I succeed, this story will be called “visionary persistence.”
If I fail, it will be labeled a “mid-life crisis.”

Same actions. Different labels.

The Job Question, and the Price of Silence

Do I sometimes think about getting a job? Of course.

I could earn well as an AI/ML engineer. Life would become quieter. Arguments would reduce. But silence isn’t peace.

I know myself well enough to know this—if I stop building now, I’ll rot slowly, even with a salary.

Why I’m Still Building

Here’s what keeps me going.

I believe in what I’m building.

If this SaaS doesn’t work, I’ll build another one. And if that fails, I’ll build again. Not because I’m stubborn, but because this is how I’m wired.

Some people are built for stability. Some are built for creation. Both are valid. Both are necessary.

But when these two mindsets share a home, friction is inevitable.

If You’re Reading This and Feeling Seen

If you’re reading this and feeling seen, let me tell you something important.

You’re not weak.
You’re not irresponsible.
You’re not broken.

You’re early.

Most creators are misunderstood long before they are respected. Pain doesn’t mean you’re wrong. It often means you’re walking a path without signboards.

I don’t know how my story ends. Maybe this product works. Maybe the next one does. Maybe I pivot again.

But I know this for sure.

I will not stop building.
I will not stop learning.
And I will not give up on proving—first to myself—that this life makes sense.

Not because I want to be right.
But because I want to be real.

If you’re a creator, founder, or builder whose family doesn’t fully understand you yet, stay steady. Earn when you must. Build when you can. Learn relentlessly.

Success has a funny habit of changing opinions.

And when it does, remember who you were when nobody believed.