I am a Lucky HODL

I’m a lucky HODL.

I didn’t discover Bitcoin early because I was clever or visionary. I discovered it because I was curious — and maybe a little lucky.

Back in 2018, I bought a small amount without really knowing what I was getting into. For years it just sat there, quietly existing in the background of my life. I wasn’t studying charts or whitepapers; I was simply holding — not out of strategy, but instinct. Looking back now, that feels like luck of a different kind.

Only recently has that quiet curiosity started to grow into something deeper — a genuine desire to understand how it all works, what it stands for, and what it might mean for the future. I’m still very much a student. I’m not Bitcoin fluent, not by a long shot. But I’m learning — slowly, steadily — one question, one essay at a time.

The Bitcoin Essays are my way of doing that: learning out loud. Exploring ideas in plain language. Documenting the journey rather than the destination. Because in the end, understanding Bitcoin isn’t about being first or being right — it’s about noticing that you’ve found something worth holding onto, even before you fully understand why.

The Story That Sparked It

The seed for this essay was planted during a podcast I listened to not long ago. The guest described himself as “the luckiest HODLR alive.” At first, the phrase made me smile — until I heard the reason why. A few years earlier, he’d been scammed out of 25 Bitcoin. Most people would call that a tragedy. He called it a turning point.

Instead of walking away bitter, he decided to learn. To truly understand what he’d lost — and, in the process, what he’d found. He went deeper into Bitcoin’s purpose, its principles, and the ideas that give it meaning. Losing those coins forced him to see past the price. It forced him to look at the foundation beneath.

That story stayed with me. It made me think about my own experience — how little I understood when I first came across Bitcoin, and how much it’s changed the way I think about money, time, and trust. I’m nowhere near fluent in Bitcoin — far from it — but I can feel the shift it’s created in how I view the world.

I realised that luck in Bitcoin isn’t about price charts or perfect timing. It’s about awareness. About noticing something important while most people still look the other way. And maybe it’s also about humility — accepting that you don’t need to understand everything right away to recognise that something profound is unfolding.

That’s what drew me in. Not mastery. Not wealth. Just a sense that there was something here worth paying attention to — something that made the world feel slightly more honest.

Early in the Revolution

When I first came across Bitcoin, it didn’t hit me like a revelation. There was no lightbulb moment, no sudden conviction that this was the future of money. It was more of a faint signal in the noise — something that kept showing up just often enough to make me curious.

At the time, I didn’t think of myself as “early.” I didn’t even understand what “early” meant in the context of something so abstract. I just knew that people I respected were talking about it, and that the idea — digital money that no one could manipulate — seemed both radical and oddly logical.

Fast-forward to today. It’s late 2025, and depending on which statistic you believe, roughly three percent of the world’s population owns Bitcoin. That number still astonishes me. Out of eight billion people, only a tiny fraction have chosen to take even a small step into this experiment.

To be part of that group feels… fortunate. Not because I timed anything right, but because I paid attention when most people didn’t. Back then, I didn’t fully understand what Bitcoin was — and truth be told, I still don’t fully understand it now. But I understand enough to see that it’s not just another speculative asset. It’s a shift in thinking.

For me, being “early” isn’t about foresight; it’s about awareness. It’s about recognising that something meaningful is unfolding and deciding to stay close to it — to learn as it evolves. I don’t feel like a pioneer, just a witness who happened to notice the smoke before the fire.

In a world where everything screams for attention, Bitcoin whispered — and I was lucky enough to listen.

Traders vs True Believers

Over time, I began to notice something about the people drawn to Bitcoin. We all use the same word to describe our involvement — “invested” — but that word means very different things depending on who you ask.

Some are here for the trade. They watch the markets like hawks, buy dips, sell peaks, and talk in percentages. For them, Bitcoin is an opportunity — a way to grow wealth, maybe even escape the grind. And fair enough; it’s hard to ignore the financial potential.

Then there are others — the ones I’d call true believers, though that phrase might sound grander than it should. These are the people who hold through the storms, not because they’ve calculated an exit point, but because they sense something deeper happening. For them, Bitcoin isn’t about quick profits; it’s about principles — about fairness, sovereignty, and trust in something that doesn’t bend to anyone’s will.

I’ve always fallen somewhere in between. For the longest time, I wasn’t reading technical manuals or following endless online debates. I wasn’t trying to predict where it was heading. I was just holding — quietly, almost passively. I didn’t know how to explain why, but something about it felt right. It aligned with how I thought the world should work, even if I couldn’t yet put that into words.

Looking back now, I can see that what I had wasn’t knowledge — it was instinct. Over these seven years, that instinct has matured into something sturdier, though still far from complete understanding. I wouldn’t call it belief in the religious sense — more like a sense of alignment. A feeling that this technology and the philosophy behind it are pointing in the right direction.

Traders might measure success by their profits; I measure mine by my patience. I’ve held long enough to see my curiosity turn into conviction — not through study or expertise, but through time and quiet observation.

Maybe that’s what being a HODL really is: not a declaration of certainty, but a commitment to stay long enough to see what unfolds.

My First Steps

My own Bitcoin story began quietly, without any sense that it might one day matter. It was 2018, and Bitcoin had already been through a few booms and busts. By then, most people I knew had dismissed it as some online fad that came and went. Still, it lingered at the back of my mind — a curiosity that refused to disappear.

One day, without overthinking it, I decided to buy a small amount. There was no big plan or deep research behind the decision. I simply wanted to see what it was like to own this strange, digital thing that everyone seemed to have an opinion about. The process felt oddly abstract, like I was stepping into a world that operated just beyond my comprehension. When the transaction went through and I saw that tiny balance appear on my screen, I remember thinking: Well, that’s interesting.

And then — nothing much happened. Life went on. Work, family, routine. The Bitcoin sat there quietly in the background, untouched and mostly unthought of. I wasn’t following news updates or tracking prices. I wasn’t reading or studying. It just existed — a small, silent reminder that somewhere out there, a new idea was taking shape.

Looking back, I think that early period mattered more than I realised. I wasn’t learning about Bitcoin in any structured sense, but I was learning something about myself — about patience, curiosity, and the value of simply holding when you don’t yet understand. I didn’t need to be an expert; I just needed to stay open.

Only now, years later, do I see that first small purchase as more than a curiosity. It was a quiet commitment — not to wealth or ideology, but to exploration. A decision to keep one foot in the unknown, just in case the unknown turned out to be something important.

The Rabbit Hole, Revisited

For years, holding was enough. Bitcoin was something I owned, not something I studied. It sat there quietly — no fanfare, no urgency. But recently, something has shifted. I’ve found myself wanting to understand it on a deeper level. Not because I feel behind or because everyone else seems to know more, but because I’m finally ready to ask the right questions.

People talk about “going down the Bitcoin rabbit hole” as if it’s a dramatic plunge — a sleepless weekend of videos, forums, and debates that changes how you see the world. My experience has been nothing like that. It’s been gradual, slow, and very human. More like walking down a winding path, sometimes stopping to rest, sometimes turning back to check where I came from.

I’ve started reading more, listening more, and thinking more — not to master the technical details, but to make sense of the ideas that sit behind them. I want to understand why Bitcoin exists, what it’s trying to fix, and how it fits into the bigger story of money and freedom.

The more I learn, the more I realise how far I still have to go. Some days I feel like I understand it clearly; other days it slips through my grasp like sand. But that’s the nature of it — Bitcoin doesn’t reveal itself all at once. You grow into it.

Writing about it helps. Putting thoughts into words forces clarity. It’s my way of turning vague curiosity into something tangible. I’m not trying to educate anyone — just to untangle my own thoughts and, in doing so, maybe make the topic a little less intimidating for others like me.

For me, the “rabbit hole” isn’t a single moment of awakening. It’s a slow unfolding — a journey of seeing the world through slightly different eyes, one idea at a time.

Doing My Part

Somewhere along the way, my curiosity turned into a sense of responsibility. I started to realise that learning about Bitcoin isn’t just a personal journey — it’s part of something collective. The more I listened, read, and reflected, the more I saw how the movement grows: not through marketing or slogans, but through people quietly sharing what they’ve learned.

Bitcoin doesn’t have a headquarters or a customer service line. It relies on its users — on people who care enough to keep the conversation going. I may not be a developer or a miner, but that doesn’t mean I can’t contribute. Everyone adds value in their own way.

For me, that contribution comes through words. Writing helps me think more clearly, and thinking in public helps keep me honest. I’m not here to preach or to convince anyone. I’m here to understand — and by putting my thoughts out there, I hope to make the learning process a little more relatable for others who might be on the same path.

In a way, this feels like the most natural extension of holding. I held Bitcoin quietly for years; now I’m holding the conversation. Writing about it isn’t an act of authority — it’s an act of participation.

And that, to me, is the beauty of it all. Bitcoin doesn’t need experts in suits or salesmen with promises. It just needs people — everyday people — willing to learn, to question, and to share what they find. One person at a time, one insight at a time.

That’s how the network grows — not just through code, but through connection.

Why I’m Lucky

I sometimes think about how different things might have been if I hadn’t stumbled onto Bitcoin when I did. Not because I’d be richer or poorer, but because I might have missed the chance to see the world through a new lens.

When I first bought Bitcoin, I didn’t understand it. I still don’t fully. But I understand enough to know it’s worth my attention — and that feels like a kind of luck. The quiet kind. The kind you only recognise in hindsight.

I was lucky to be curious at a time when it would’ve been easier not to be. Lucky to have held on through years of not knowing exactly what I was holding. Lucky that something in me decided to stay open, even when I didn’t have the words or the knowledge to explain why.

Most of all, I feel lucky to be learning now — at a time when Bitcoin is no longer a fringe idea, but still early enough that understanding it means you’re witnessing history in motion. I get to watch it evolve, change, and occasionally stumble, just as I do.

But maybe “luck” isn’t even the right word. Maybe it’s more about timing — about being ready, or willing, when something meaningful crosses your path. Either way, I’m grateful. Because even with my incomplete understanding, Bitcoin has already changed how I see value, fairness, and time itself.

I don’t need to be fluent in it to feel its pull. I just need to keep learning — and keep holding.

Conviction Before Comprehension

If there’s one thing I’ve learned so far, it’s that understanding doesn’t always come first. Sometimes belief arrives long before comprehension.

When I first bought Bitcoin, I didn’t know what I was stepping into. I couldn’t have explained it to anyone — not properly, anyway. But something about it felt right. It spoke to an intuition I didn’t have words for yet. Looking back, that feeling was conviction — unshaped, untested, but real.

Over the years, comprehension has crept in slowly. Each article, podcast, and conversation adds a small piece to the puzzle, even if most of it still feels incomplete. And that’s okay. Because what keeps me here isn’t perfect understanding — it’s trust in the direction of things.

Conviction is what anchors me when comprehension falls short. It’s what lets me hold through uncertainty — not just in price, but in my own learning. Some days I feel like I’ve grasped something profound; other days it slips away again. Yet with each return, the meaning feels a little deeper.

I’m still learning, still fumbling, still curious. But I’ve come to see that this is what being a HODL really means. It’s not just about holding Bitcoin — it’s about holding belief through imperfection. About recognising that comprehension is always chasing conviction, and that’s exactly how it should be.

Because this journey isn’t about mastering Bitcoin. It’s about being shaped by it.