I Didn’t Become Technical Overnight
I think people sometimes assume that if you’ve worked in technology for a while, there must have been a moment when everything suddenly made sense. They imagine a day when you stopped feeling intimidated, stopped Googling things, and finally felt completely confident in your abilities.
If I’m honest, I don’t think I’ve ever had that moment.
At least not in the dramatic way people imagine.
I’ve worked in networking, cybersecurity, technical communications, and learning and development. I’ve supported systems, created training, and spent years learning technologies that once felt impossibly complicated. And yet, I still encounter things I don’t know. I still search for answers. I still occasionally stare at an error message and wonder what exactly I did to deserve this particular challenge.
That used to embarrass me.
For a long time, I believed technical people were fundamentally different from me. I imagined they had grown up taking computers apart or writing code as children. I assumed they possessed some natural ability that I simply lacked. Because I believed that, every moment of confusion felt personal. If I didn’t understand something immediately, I worried I wasn’t smart enough. If I forgot a command, I questioned whether I belonged. If I struggled with a concept, I assumed everyone else found it easier.
Looking back, I wish I had been kinder to myself.
The truth is that becoming technical wasn’t one big moment. It wasn’t a dramatic transformation where I woke up one morning feeling like an expert. It was hundreds of small moments layered on top of one another. It was staying curious when I felt intimidated. It was opening software I didn’t fully understand and giving myself permission to learn slowly. It was building virtual machines, creating users, troubleshooting problems, and realizing that confusion wasn’t a sign that I should quit.
It was simply part of the process.
I think that’s something social media doesn’t always show us. We see polished careers, certifications, and impressive job titles, but we rarely see the uncertainty that came before them. We don’t see the hours someone spent troubleshooting a problem that should have taken ten minutes. We don’t see the moments they questioned themselves or wondered if they were smart enough to continue.
We just see the finished version.
And when we compare our beginning to someone else’s middle, it’s easy to believe we’re behind.
I’ve done that more times than I’d like to admit.
I’ve looked at people with impressive home labs and wondered if mine was too simple. I’ve listened to technical conversations and worried I wasn’t keeping up. I’ve questioned myself and wondered whether everyone else felt more confident than I did.
What I’ve learned over time is that confidence is often much quieter than we imagine.
I don’t think confidence means knowing everything. I don’t think it means never feeling confused or never making mistakes. I think confidence is the willingness to keep going even when you don’t have all the answers.
It’s the belief that you can figure things out.
That belief didn’t appear overnight for me.
It grew slowly.
It grew every time I solved a problem I thought was beyond me. It grew every time I installed something new, fixed something broken, or finally understood a concept that had confused me for weeks. It grew through repetition and experience and a hundred tiny victories nobody else knew about.
And honestly, I think that’s one of the most beautiful things about learning technology.
You don’t have to become an expert overnight.
You don’t have to know everything before you begin.
You don’t have to wait until you feel fearless.
You simply have to be willing to stay curious long enough for familiarity to grow.
Because one day, almost without realizing it, you’ll open software that once intimidated you and think:
“I remember when this scared me.”
I still have moments like that.
Moments where I realize something that once felt impossibly complicated now feels ordinary. Moments where I forget how intimidating certain concepts used to be because they’ve become part of my everyday life.
Those moments never stop feeling special.
Not because they prove I’m an expert.
But because they remind me that growth is real.
I didn’t become technical overnight.
I became technical slowly.
And honestly, I think slow growth is still one of the most beautiful kinds of growth there is.
If you're exploring technology, changing careers, or simply looking for a supportive community of women in tech, I'd love to invite you to Techgether. We learn together, share opportunities, and encourage one another as we navigate our careers.
You don't have to know everything before you begin. You simply have to be willing to take the next step.
-Iann
