The 8 things it took to change careers to UX design

Just yesterday I landed my first official UX design job since I quit my engineering career 6 months ago. A UX job that until yesterday morning, was only a dream. Literally, a dream. Every day I’d think, “imagine, imagine if you got that job. How incredible it would be. How incredible it would feel. All you’ve been through, all you’ve sacrificed.” I had allowed myself to want something so badly for the first time in my life.

Just 6 months ago I was working one of those jobs everyone complains about—the day jobs in offices that pay well but drain the life out of you. I thought, I ought to be thankful I have what I have, even if some days it feels impossible.

I knew I couldn’t sustain that career. It took consistent conscious effort to remind myself that I’d work different, I’d feel different, if I was doing something I loved. That thing I would love—design—was nothing but a daydream. From then to now, I decided to re-write my story, to believe in myself. I dug deep, deeper than I ever had, and I knew it was about more than happiness—it was about survival.

There are 8 things I want to share that brought me here. 8 things I’ve practiced in the last 6 months that allowed me to take the leap. If you’re reading this and you have a dream for yourself too, I want you to know that it’s possible. That you have it in you.

1. Vulnerability

Betting on myself was by far the most vulnerable thing I’d ever done. When life demands you be vulnerable, it’s easy to turn away. It’s easy to keep on going down the same familiar road with your feet on the ground. But no change comes without a journey back to oneself.

For me, this journey required me to accept that I hadn’t ever really bet on myself before. Even through college admissions and my job searches in the engineering field, it never felt personal enough to be vulnerable. I had given up architecture early in college because it promised a tough financial road that I didn’t have the luxury of entertaining. When I switched to engineering, it was about buying time until I could be vulnerable again.

So, years later, sitting in an office, I had to come back to myself. And I did so in the most fundamental way, daring to ask myself, “what would make you happy, truly happy?”

And that is the most vulnerable question—once you know what it is that you want, you naturally start wanting it more and more. And the more you want it, the more vulnerable you become; the more room you’re giving the world to disappoint you.

Vulnerability was necessary. It was that second road I could take, where nothing was promised other than a chance at happiness. 6 months ago I decided to take that chance and bet entirely on myself.

2. Courage

For years I had been sacrificing happiness and confidence for certainty, steadiness, predictability. It was safe, I knew what tomorrow would hold, and the day after. What in the world would have to budge me to make me stand up, run away from all of that, and say “You know what? I’m going for it. I’m going to risk my money, my time, my comfort, my stability, for something that promises me nothing in return.” What kind of crazy person does that?

I saved money from my jobs for years hoping one day I’d be brave enough to risk it all. And after research, after preparing for months and months, I quit my job and enrolled in a UX design bootcamp. Let me tell you, it was not nearly as terrifying as it was liberating. I mean, what a feeling.

And you know what I learned? The fact that this was such a risk for me was the single most motivating factor when it came to working really, really hard to make it happen. When everything is on the line, it’s survival mode. The risk required all the courage I could muster, and I was absolutely determined to make it worth it.

3. Trust

With vulnerability and risk came the need for trust. Trust in myself and trust that hard work was worth something. I had to trust myself enough to know I’d be able to handle survival mode. I had to trust that I had the abilities and morale to make it through all the rockiness I was risking.

Often life had taught me hard lessons—I worked hard and was left with little reward. I was scared to want something and work for something again. I was scared to trust that my hard work was enough. To trust the world to give back. But I had to change that mentality. It wasn’t about trusting anything outside myself. If I was solid, if I really believed I had it in me, I’d make it through whatever was thrown at me.

If I was steady, everything else around me could be rocky and I’d still be fine. So I stayed steady. I trusted myself, through all my doubts and those voices saying “are you sure?” I trusted that hard work was valuable in itself regardless of reward.

4. Hard Work

Once I trusted myself and went for it, watching myself work so hard and with such passion was like, woah, I forgot what this felt like. I saw again what I was capable of, what I was made of. It was like I was back in freshman year architecture again. Except this time, I was equipped for a risk with better odds given I work harder than ever before.

And so, I did. I was like a freight train once it gets going. I was living and breathing UX design 70 hours a week. And I was happy doing it! What! Crazy. Hard work was satisfying in itself. In the midst of all my learning, I was completely consumed by the work I was doing, not thinking of what would happen once I finished the course.

All I knew for certain was that I was going to blow everything out of the water. I had so much passion pent up that I let it all out in the 10 weeks of the UX immersive and the months of job searching that followed.

To be entirely honest, upon reflection, this hard work wasn’t hard. It was long hours, loads of tasks and demands, huge amounts of emotion and focus, but it wasn’t hard. Because I loved doing it.

You know what hard work really is? Hard work is getting up in the morning to go to a job that makes you feel empty. Hard work is sitting at a desk and counting the minutes on the clock. Hard work is putting a smile on when you’re completely lost. Hard work is dealing with the reality that you never took a chance. Hard work is rejecting vulnerability. Hard work is refusing to chase happiness and somehow still spending all your energy.

So no, the last 6 months wasn’t really hard. But I did work hard. The motivation I had was so deep-rooted that it was like instinct. I got up in the morning with a million ideas and questions and an eagerness to find the answers. I was moving faster than I could even register. It was onward, onward, onward. I found something to chase.

5. Confidence

For the last 6 months I had to be extremely sure of myself. At the beginning, my confidence was generated with a lot of effort. But it took just a week of being in a learning environment again for me to have all the confidence I needed.

I was vulnerable and confident at the same time. It was the ultimate freedom. It was bulletproof confidence. I was already vulnerable, entirely and completely exposed to unpredictability and risk. So when I found a way to walk with my head high and speak out while being in that vulnerable position, it was a deeper form of confidence that I hadn’t reached before.

The top adjective I received at the end of the course from my classmates was “confident,” written across all the notecards. I don’t want to put aside the fact that if I was a man it wouldn’t even be considered as a defining adjective. However, it was followed with, “you set such a good example for me,” or, “you inspired be to be a bad-a** too.” So to learn that I was that person for other women was very rewarding. To all the women reading this—be so confident that people have to point it out. And when they do, say, “yeah, of course I am.”

6. Intention

Everything I’ve done during this journey has been intentional. Complacency left my life 6 months ago when I decided I’d do everything on purpose. I’d want something on purpose, work for it on purpose, be vulnerable on purpose.

My intention wasn’t to find a purpose—my purpose was to have intention. In every single thing I did. From quitting my job to asking the right questions in studio to selling myself in interview rooms.

I was intense. With no desire to be any other way. I intend to make waves in the industry wherever I go because I’ve discovered what it feels like to do things on purpose and it feels good. Working hard on purpose is on an entirely different plane than being forced to work. My years of going with the flow to my own detriment were over.

Every day is full of intentions for me now. What I want to work on, what I want to create around me, what I want to contribute. My purpose is to live life with intention.

7. Humility

I was humble in my approach to this new career. My confidence allowed me to be humble — I was so comfortable with what I was capable of that it was easy for me to express what I didn’t know or what I wanted to learn. I entered this journey with my arms wide open, ready to learn, to absorb, to experience. I had no ego. Without humility, I wouldn’t have been able to grow the way I did.

I also had to swallow my pride when it came to asking the people around me if I could lean on them. I was able to connect with my family and my close friends on a deeper level because I allowed them to be there for me when I was most vulnerable.

8. Support

I’d be remiss not to mention how impossible this would have been without the support of my friends and family, especially my sister Chantal. All I had to do was let go, and let them be there for me.

Chantal has had massive success as a young graphic designer. I had been watching her for years, working and breathing design. Out-working everyone around her. Making her dream a reality. She took the risk when she declared a design major in college. At the time it had made me nervous. In barely any time she had proved me wrong. When I told her I wanted to switch into a career in design, she became my mentor, my biggest supporter. “I can show you how to use that. I’ll send you some articles. Did you save enough for a laptop? I’ll buy it for you, you’ll need a good one. Just work hard. I know you will.”

And my mom? The most hopeful person in my entire journey. She had her reservations, of course, all for my sake. But when she saw how much I needed to take the risk, she instantly became the steadiest supporter. I leaned on her immensely. She was in my corner, literally 24 hours a day. Through all the ups and downs.

My sister, Kristy, and my partner, Rachel, were my cheerleaders. Asking for updates and reading my articles and looking at my projects and encouraging me endlessly.

My instructional team at General Assembly, Tamora Petitt, Vincent Brathwaite, and Sarah Bricker, have been and continue to be unbelievably supportive. Before I even took the course, I met with Vincent and he saw in me what I wouldn’t see for a few months later. I knew I wanted to take the class with him. Vincent and Tamora created an environment that I’d never experienced before. They fostered creativity and depth in everything we did, and connected with me and my classmates on personal levels far beyond what was required of them. Sarah was a mentor and friend through ups and downs, and never failed to add some humor to the busy days.

Lastly, I want to thank my wonderful classmates for challenging me, sweating with me, laughing with me, and journeying with me. It’s been a rollercoaster and I couldn’t have asked for better-hearted people by my side through it all.

Final Words

All of this said, I hope that my journey can inspire others to chase something they’ve always wanted. Taking the leap changed my life. Landing my first UX design job is the most euphoric feeling I’ve ever experienced in my life. It took immense courage and persistent hope and I can sit here and say it was completely, entirely, unbelievably worth it.