Not long ago, I found myself at a local networking event hosted by someone in event management Glasgow, and while it wasn’t tech-focused, the experience still left a mark. The conversations were warm, the coffee was terrible, and the setting, an old converted brewery, was oddly inspiring. It reminded me that the growth we seek as developers doesn’t always happen behind a screen. Sometimes, it’s in spaces we least expect, talking to people who don’t even know what a pull request is.
When I first started coding, I treated every tutorial like a step on a ladder. Finish one, climb up. But I’ve come to realize learning isn’t always linear. Some of the most valuable experiences I’ve had came from what looked like detours. Pairing with someone who had a completely different coding style, attending a design meetup to understand UI better, or even trying, and failing, to teach someone else what I’d just learned. Each moment expanded my perspective, even when it didn’t boost my GitHub streak.
There’s something underrated about reflection in tech. We chase new frameworks and optimize workflows, but how often do we pause to ask what an experience meant to us? That time I bombed a technical interview? I learned more about my communication gaps than any textbook could have taught me. That awkward first pull request? It taught me to be braver. Not every story ends with a job offer or a shiny new badge, but the emotional muscle built along the way is invaluable.
We also tend to undervalue experiences that don’t look like “success.” Rewriting code for the fifth time, hitting burnout, starting a side project no one sees, these aren’t glamorous, but they’re part of the real journey. Sometimes, sharing these stories helps others feel less alone. That’s why I’ve found community platforms like this one so grounding. It’s not just about code, it’s about the messy, human process behind it.
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