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Mar 06, 2026
Zero To Engineer: I Was Scared, Broke, and a Mom. I Did It Anyway
Where every Friday we discuss a concept, and break it down to become a better Developer.
If you are learning how to code, tired of “Tutorial Hell”, or simply feeling behind, this series is dedicated to you.
For a long time, I was really good at a job that didn’t feel like me.
I worked as a Business Development Representative, Account Executive, and Account Manager for remote SaaS companies. I hit my numbers. I closed deals. I knew how to talk to people, build relationships, and move fast. On paper, I was doing everything right.
But every morning I woke up and felt like I was putting on a costume. It didn’t fit my personality, and I have had a long list of unsatisfying jobs that left me without purpose. It took a while to find happiness in what I did, getting up and putting on a smile to act like things were fine.
But my nervous system was shot, and I felt like I had seen enough. I was a creative, a writer, a thinker. But I couldn’t feel like that, cold calling someone at 9am-5pm every day.
Sales taught me a lot. I am genuinely grateful for it. It gave me communication skills, business instincts, and the chance to work alongside some incredibly talented people, including the Solutions Engineers and Developers who sat across from me on calls at my previous positions. I watched them solve problems with code and felt something shift inside me every single time. I was watching something I was supposed to be doing.
I just didn’t know if I was smart enough to do it.
That fear followed me for a long time, 2 years exactly, and when I finally decided to make the switch, my mind didn’t get quieter. If anything, it got louder. Because I wasn’t just a career changer. I was a full-time mom finishing out my third year of school at the time, carrying financial uncertainty on my shoulders, and wondering every single day if I had made the right call.
I double majored in Business Administration and Applied Computer Science with an emphasis in Software Development. Some days I felt like I was barely keeping my head above water. The homework assignments kept me busy, but they weren’t enough. I needed to build something real. Something that was mine. Not because a professor asked for it, but because I wanted to prove something to myself.
So I built a blog.
It sounds simple. And technically, it was. In the three months that I built it, I wondered if this was the right thing to do. But the moment that blog went live, something clicked that no assignment had ever given me. I had built a thing that existed in the world. People could find it. They could read it. They could see my work. And for the first time in my career, I wanted them to.
That was the moment I knew I was finally on the right path. I was vulnerable.
In sales, I was always performing for someone else’s goals. Quota. Pipeline. Revenue. But writing that first line of code for something I actually cared about felt different. It felt like me. The real me, not the one in the costume.
I won’t pretend the transition was clean or easy. It wasn’t. There were nights I questioned everything. There were moments I wondered if I was being selfish chasing something new while juggling so much. But I kept going because the alternative, staying somewhere I didn’t belong, felt worse than the fear.
Today, I build websites, Python scripts, API agents, and custom apps for small businesses. I batch content. I put my work out into the world on purpose. And every time I ship something, I think about that blog and how far one small brave decision can take you.
Here is something nobody told me before I made the switch. When you are building something you actually care about, you don’t have to force yourself to learn. You chase it. You stay up late not because you have to, but because you want to see if it works. You hit a wall, and instead of walking away, you dig deeper because the thing you are building actually matters to you. Passion doesn’t make the hard parts disappear, but it makes you willing to push through them. And that willingness is what turns a beginner into someone great.
I am still becoming. But I am becoming something that feels like me. And that makes all the difference.
If you are reading this and you are sitting in a job that does not feel like you, I want you to know something. You do not have to have it all figured out. You do not have to be fearless. You just have to be willing to start.
Build the thing. Put it out there. See what happens.
That one step changed everything for me. It can for you too.
Let’s Build It Beautifully,
Fab
For a long time, I was really good at a job that didn’t feel like me.
I worked as a Business Development Representative, Account Executive, and Account Manager for remote SaaS companies. I hit my numbers. I closed deals. I knew how to talk to people, build relationships, and move fast. On paper, I was doing everything right.
But every morning I woke up and felt like I was putting on a costume. It didn’t fit my personality, and I have had a long list of unsatisfying jobs that left me without purpose. It took a while to find happiness in what I did, getting up and putting on a smile to act like things were fine.
But my nervous system was shot, and I felt like I had seen enough. I was a creative, a writer, a thinker. But I couldn’t feel like that, cold calling someone at 9am-5pm every day.
Sales taught me a lot. I am genuinely grateful for it. It gave me communication skills, business instincts, and the chance to work alongside some incredibly talented people, including the Solutions Engineers and Developers who sat across from me on calls at my previous positions. I watched them solve problems with code and felt something shift inside me every single time. I was watching something I was supposed to be doing.
I just didn’t know if I was smart enough to do it.
That fear followed me for a long time, 2 years exactly, and when I finally decided to make the switch, my mind didn’t get quieter. If anything, it got louder. Because I wasn’t just a career changer. I was a full-time mom finishing out my third year of school at the time, carrying financial uncertainty on my shoulders, and wondering every single day if I had made the right call.
I double majored in Business Administration and Applied Computer Science with an emphasis in Software Development. Some days I felt like I was barely keeping my head above water. The homework assignments kept me busy, but they weren’t enough. I needed to build something real. Something that was mine. Not because a professor asked for it, but because I wanted to prove something to myself.
So I built a blog.
It sounds simple. And technically, it was. In the three months that I built it, I wondered if this was the right thing to do. But the moment that blog went live, something clicked that no assignment had ever given me. I had built a thing that existed in the world. People could find it. They could read it. They could see my work. And for the first time in my career, I wanted them to.
That was the moment I knew I was finally on the right path. I was vulnerable.
In sales, I was always performing for someone else’s goals. Quota. Pipeline. Revenue. But writing that first line of code for something I actually cared about felt different. It felt like me. The real me, not the one in the costume.
I won’t pretend the transition was clean or easy. It wasn’t. There were nights I questioned everything. There were moments I wondered if I was being selfish chasing something new while juggling so much. But I kept going because the alternative, staying somewhere I didn’t belong, felt worse than the fear.
Today, I build websites, Python scripts, API agents, and custom apps for small businesses. I batch content. I put my work out into the world on purpose. And every time I ship something, I think about that blog and how far one small brave decision can take you.
Here is something nobody told me before I made the switch. When you are building something you actually care about, you don’t have to force yourself to learn. You chase it. You stay up late not because you have to, but because you want to see if it works. You hit a wall, and instead of walking away, you dig deeper because the thing you are building actually matters to you. Passion doesn’t make the hard parts disappear, but it makes you willing to push through them. And that willingness is what turns a beginner into someone great.
I am still becoming. But I am becoming something that feels like me. And that makes all the difference.
If you are reading this and you are sitting in a job that does not feel like you, I want you to know something. You do not have to have it all figured out. You do not have to be fearless. You just have to be willing to start.
Build the thing. Put it out there. See what happens.
That one step changed everything for me. It can for you too.
Let’s Build It Beautifully,
Fab