You went to school, got a degree or maybe you didn't. You have a business, a job or some hustle to keep you going. Then something happened.

A thought perhaps. Accidentally opening chrome devTools perhaps. Or like me, a desperate desire to save your failing business by learning all things digital. Because you heard that digital marketing was cheap and brought results... fast.

One thing leads to another and before you know it, you are in bed with tech and you can't get out. In fact, you like it. So much so you decide to commit.

If learning to code is what this means then so be it. If learning UI/UX and what the heck the difference between those is then so be it. If it means figuring out what an API is and what relationship it has to a waiter, so be it. If it means listening to one more person explain how Vue (whatever that is 😏) is the result of some bizarre copulation between React and Angular, so be it.

Heck, even if it means taking apart your computer, so be it. You decide you will not only learn this, but you will master it. No matter what.

Then the job hunt starts, the impostor syndrome starts knocking. You become addicted to that indescribable high that comes with figuring it out, even as you dread the low you know is coming. You can save the world just as fast as you can destroy it. Goddess.

You manage to get your foot through the door, congratulations. 🎉 🥳 👏 . Your first gig. Your first tech job. Now you are legit. You can call yourself that fancy tech title you've been dreaming about for what now? Weeks? Months? A couple of years?

Then you quickly realise that while you were running around taking forever to figure out that tech was your spark, other people have been courting it since forever. And you are the dinosaur in the room.

People years younger than you have years over you in this game. And it feels miserable. A constant reminder that you should have had it together. A reminder of all the time you wasted because you were afraid. To start. To try. To commit.

A reminder that you were too afraid to fail at one more thing.

As if we don't all fail.

And that, dear reader, is the part they didn't tell you. The part in which you are confronted with all your regret. The part that forces you start forgiving yourself for being human. The part that forces you to face the monster in your head.