Man, 2015. I was a total mess, career-wise. I remember feeling like I was just drifting, you know? Like a fish in the ocean, just going wherever the current took me, with no real say in it. That whole “Pisces 2015 Career: What’s Next?” thing? That question was burning a hole in my brain. My job at the time was… well, it was just a job. It paid the bills, but it didn’t spark anything in me. I felt stuck, genuinely stuck, and it was gnawing at me.
So, I thought, enough of this. I decided I had to figure it out, whatever “it” was. I couldn’t just keep hoping something would magically change. I started my whole “practice” without even really knowing what I was doing. My first step was just to read everything I could get my hands on about different industries, different roles, anything that sounded remotely interesting. I devoured articles online, watched endless YouTube videos, and even picked up some dusty old career guides from the library. It was a complete information overload, honestly, but I felt like I needed to cast a wide net.
After a few weeks of just soaking up info, I realized that wasn’t enough. Reading about stuff doesn’t actually do anything. So, I picked one area that seemed kinda cool at the time – let’s say it was something around basic web development, like building simple websites. Never done it before. Zero experience. I just went for it. I found a free online course, signed up, and committed to doing a bit every single night after my regular job. It was brutal sometimes, I won’t lie. My eyes would glaze over, and I’d get frustrated with simple things like forgetting a semicolon or messing up a tag. I remember trying to make a basic page, and it just looked like garbage. I kept at it, though. I’d sit there, squinting at the screen, debugging line by line, feeling like an absolute idiot, but then something would click, and it felt like a tiny victory.
I didn’t stop at the online course. I knew I needed to actually build something from scratch. So, I decided to try and make a little personal portfolio site, just for fun, just to showcase what I was learning. It was laughably basic – just an HTML page with some text and a few images. But the process of actually typing it out, seeing it appear in the browser, making small changes and watching them instantly update – that was addictive. I experimented with colors, fonts, layouts. Most of it looked like a kindergarten project, but I was doing it. I was putting in the effort, moving my fingers, making things happen, instead of just thinking about them.
Talking to Folks and Getting Real Feedback
Then came the slightly terrifying part: talking to actual people. I knew I couldn’t just live in my little coding bubble. I started by reaching out to some old friends who were in tech or had interesting jobs. I’d hit them up for coffee or a quick video call. I wasn’t asking for a job; I was just asking questions. “What do you actually do all day?” “What’s the hardest part of your job?” “What do you wish you’d known?” Some conversations were boring, some were super insightful. I picked up little nuggets of information, little tips and tricks about navigating the professional world that you just don’t learn from articles.
I even bravely (or stupidly, depending on how you look at it) showed my terrible little portfolio website to one of these friends. He gave me some really honest, blunt feedback. He pointed out where it was weak, where it could be better, things I hadn’t even considered. It stung a bit, sure, but it was exactly what I needed. It pushed me to rethink things, to go back and try to improve, to dig deeper into why something wasn’t working.
My “record” during all this wasn’t some fancy spreadsheet or a perfectly organized journal. Nah, it was a messy spiral notebook. I’d just scribble down ideas, frustrating error messages, names of people I talked to, little breakthroughs I had. Sometimes I’d just write “UGH, THIS SUCKS” in big letters. But it was a track record of my effort, my frustration, and my tiny wins. Every time I hit a wall, I’d write it down, and then I’d write down what I tried to do to get past it. It was like a constant conversation with myself, documenting the grind.
The Pivot and The “Next” Step
Through all this trying and failing, talking and listening, I started to see a pattern. I realized that while I enjoyed learning how to build things, what I really loved was the problem-solving aspect, the figuring out how things worked, and then being able to explain it. My initial thought of being a “web developer” started to morph into something else. I began gravitating more towards understanding systems, processes, and how information flows. It wasn’t a sudden lightbulb moment; it was a slow, gradual shift, like a ship slowly changing course in the vast ocean.
By the end of 2015, I didn’t have a new job offer in hand, but I had something much more valuable: clarity. I had a direction. I understood what kind of problems energized me, what skills I genuinely enjoyed developing, and what kind of environment I wanted to be in. I had shifted from “what’s next?” to “I’m going to make what’s next.” I started focusing my learning on specific areas that aligned with this new path. The vague, drifting feeling was gone, replaced by a sense of purpose. It wasn’t about the stars telling me what to do; it was about me putting in the work and charting my own course.
