The place that’s actually changed how I think about my work is GitHub. Almost nobody will ever browse my profile, and most of the repos won’t get traction. But the code itself is there - and maybe that's the only part that matters. If the work is good, it will eventually find its place in the infrastructure, find the people who need it. If it isn’t good enough, no amount of posting or engagement elsewhere will compensate.
Realizing that has been strangely stabilizing. I stopped chasing visibility on platforms built around attention and started caring more about the quality and usefulness of what I build. The metrics are quieter, but they’re more honest.
In the end, obscurity is normal in the tech industry. Who can name all those who work on the firefox browser or the openbox window mgr, etc. The work has true value even if the author doesn’t become a name people know. And if something I build ends up helping someone, even years from now, that has to be enough.
You may share useful code, but because you have ten stars and FOOBAR has 2000, people will only take FOOBAR seriously.
You don't have badges on your readme? You don't have screenshots? You don't have achievements and a green square every day on your profile?
I aim to be like them, high performers that get respect from their peers, but unknown to internet strangers.
Sometimes you get the rare exceptions of people who don't chase fame but become known for their work due to other people talking about it.
Then I read the black swan by Nassim Taleb, Give & Take by Adam Grant, and others of the sort.
There's something there about waiting for serendipity, and chasing it. The string shouldn't be too tight, neither too loose.
Best of luck in your journey!