My Personal Development Journey

For a long time, I felt stuck, unsure of what I wanted or how to get there.

I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t even realize that having a plan was something people did.

It wasn’t because I didn’t care. I cared a lot.

I didn’t understand how people aimed at life deliberately. I didn’t even realize they were aiming at all.

I didn’t have anyone showing me how progress actually worked. Looking back, that mattered more than I realized at the time.

At first, the feeling came and went. It was uncomfortable, so I ignored it. Then it started returning more often, heavier each time, until I couldn’t ignore it anymore. Eventually, it felt overwhelming. Hopeless, even.

My life looks very different now. Not because I figured it all out overnight, but because I learned, slowly and awkwardly, how to move forward with intention.

This is that journey, shared in the hope that you can learn from my mistakes and avoid wasting the time I did.

Growing Up Without Guidance

I didn’t grow up with mentors or role models who explained how life works or how to build something over time. No one showed me how progress actually happens, how to set a direction, or how small choices compound. At the time, I didn’t even realise that was something people learned.

School reflected that.

Some subjects interested me, so I tried and did fine. Others didn’t, so I barely engaged. I got roughly what I put in. Nothing felt urgent. There was no momentum. No sense that today’s effort mattered much for tomorrow.

Somewhere along the way, I picked up the idea that I wasn’t intelligent. Phonics never clicked. Spelling was hard. No one said it outright, but labels don’t need to be spoken to stick.

That belief stayed with me for years.

There’s a psychological concept called the Golem effect, where low expectations suppress performance. For me, those expectations lived quietly in my own head. Over time, that limiting belief began to feel true. Not because it was, but because it shaped how I behaved.

I believed I wasn’t capable, so I avoided taking on challenges in areas I thought I’d fail. It didn’t feel like self sabotage. It felt like I was being realistic.

Not Choosing Is Still a Choice

After school, I stayed in education because everyone else did. I wasn’t moving toward anything, just floating along.

I enrolled in a course aimed at people joining the uniformed services. I would have said I wanted to join the fire service, but the truth is I wasn’t really aiming at anything. I got sick, fell behind, and dropped out. The illness wasn’t the real issue, the lack of grit and direction was.

Later, I started studying to become an electrician. I was fortunate enough to be offered the chance to work alongside a qualified electrician. All I had to do was complete a form for a site pass.

I didn’t bother.

At the time, that didn’t even register as a problem. It was only later, through reflection, that the truth became obvious: I didn’t actually want to be an electrician. I didn’t see a bigger picture. I didn’t have a plan.

Not making progress didn’t feel urgent, so I floated about.

That’s an uncomfortable truth, but an important one. You don’t need a perfect plan to move forward. But you do need a direction. And at that stage of my life, I didn’t even have that.

For a few years, I worked in retail. I noticed that other people seemed to progress while I stayed where I was. That comparison made me uncomfortable, so I avoided thinking about it. The world felt intimidating, though I wouldn’t have described it that way at the time.

I even earned a promotion, but something still felt off.

I wanted more. I just didn’t know what. And even if I had, I wouldn’t have known how to move toward it.

That feeling came and went, sometimes as dread, sometimes as panic. Eventually, I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

I wanted more, but I didn’t know where to start.

Discovering a Goal

In my early twenties, I finally found something I wanted, to join the military.

This time, it mattered.

My earlier lack of direction came back to bite me. I hadn’t done well enough at English at school. But instead of walking away, I studied part-time to get it. I worked for months and earned a B. Not bad for someone who’d spent years thinking they weren’t intelligent.

At the same time, I trained for the entry tests. Fitness. Aptitude. Preparation. I worked obsessively, not because I was confident, but because I finally had a reason.

When the tests came, I smashed them. For the first time, my hard work produced results.

Then I failed the medical.

A knee injury picked up during training meant I was permanently barred from entry. Just like that, the dream I’d been working towards disappeared.

I was crushed.

But I hadn’t lost everything. I’d learned something vital which was still with me: choosing something and working toward it deliberately worked. Even if the outcome wasn’t guaranteed, the process changed me.

Rebuilding Through Effort

Since my body had let me down, I decided to use my mind. I enrolled in a course to prepare for university. I worked hard. Not because I suddenly believed in myself, but because effort had become something I trusted. I’d seen that discipline and persistence produced results.

One small moment sticks with me.

In an IT class, we could choose between a basic workbook and an advanced one. My friends chose advanced. I chose basic, that’s where I was at. I learned the fundamentals properly and finished before my friends. A few weeks later, they were asking me for help.

That taught me something quietly powerful: progress doesn’t come from pretending you’re further along than you are. It comes from starting where you actually are and moving forward.

University followed. I was older than most of my peers and assumed they were smarter than me. Then something confusing happened. I seemed to understand things they didn’t.

That didn’t fit the story I’d been telling myself for years. Slowly, the “unintelligent” label began to crack.

Following university, I considered applying for graduate vacancies, but I was put off by how competitive it was.

Not because I didn’t want it, but because I didn’t want to try and fail. Avoidance felt safe. Better not to try than to risk failing. I knew it was irrational. I knew it was costing me, but I pushed the thought away.

My confidence had grown, but it was still fragile.

Discovering Self-Development

Later, I applied to some graduate programmes and failed. It hurt. It felt like confirmation of a fear I thought I’d outgrown.

But that rejection introduced me to self-development, not the motivational kind, but the practical kind.

I didn’t want hype. I wanted competence. And teaching myself had worked before.

So I started reading. Bad books at first. Management for Dummies was the first one I picked up. I reasoned that if managers were capable, learning what they knew might help.

Over time, I found better material. I learned about productivity, different skills, and built knowledge. I wasn’t trying to “find myself.” I was trying to become capable.

That journey has never stopped since. Slowly, my mindset shifted. I began to trust that if I didn’t know how, I could figure it out for myself, and that skills compound quietly over time.

Moving Forward Deliberately

Eventually, I secured an entry-level office role. On paper, it looked underwhelming, especially after university. But for me, university had been worth it. Not because I used the degree directly, but because it broke my limited view of what was possible and gave me the courage to walk a different path.

Now I had a job where I could apply what I’d been learning in my personal development books.

I spoke up. Made changes. Voluntarily took on responsibility. Not because I was fearless, but because I was now intentionally trying to grow, and I did. Skills compounded. Opportunities followed.

I learned that simply doing what you should, consistently, puts you ahead of most people.

Later, a new role didn’t work out for me. It was fast paced and with limited autonomy. It didn’t suit me. This time I recognised it and instead of freezing, I asked a simple question:

What is the opposite of this?

That gave me a direction. Not a full plan, just a heading. And that was enough.

I moved toward work where I could go deep, build expertise, and grow deliberately. Finding the right track allowed me to progress. That’s where I am now.