Let me confess something.

There’s something wrong with me—or at least, that’s what I often believe.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been at war with self-doubt. It’s exhausting to give your all while constantly whispering to yourself that you’ll never be enough.

Looking back, it almost feels like life followed some invisible straight line, neatly connecting the dots to where I am now. But truth is, that path was anything but straight. I wandered. I hesitated. I got lost.

I knew where I wanted to go. But somehow, I couldn’t walk toward it. No guide, no map—just an endless loop of second-guessing myself, afraid of what failure might do to me.

When I was a kid, I loved everything about technology. I dreamed of creating things myself. We had a computer at home, but no one around me could teach me how to use it beyond the basics. We didn’t even have internet until I was 14.

By then, I had already drifted. Surrounded by smart people, I felt I didn’t belong in that world. I gave up on the dream. I just wanted to enjoy what others made, not build anything of my own.

I don’t remember when exactly school stopped making sense to me. I barely passed anything. The only class I did well in was English, which made me think about choosing a language-related major. My parents didn’t approve. I even considered Psychology, something more human, but they shut that down too.

Eventually, we compromised. They pushed for engineering. I didn’t care anymore, so I picked a random major in a less-known university—just to get it over with.

It was miserable.

For two years, I kept failing classes—especially those filled with math and physics. I thought I was doomed. But later, when programming classes came in, things changed. I wasn’t just passing—I was doing well. More than that, I enjoyed it. I even started helping friends who were struggling, and surprisingly, they said I was good at explaining things.

That made something click.

Maybe I could teach. Maybe that could be my future.

But to do that, I’d need a better degree.

That’s when my self-doubt came back stronger than ever.

I wanted to study abroad. I believed being around cutting-edge tech would shape me. But I doubted I could get a scholarship. Private universities were out of the question—too expensive. So, I settled for a local public uni. People said I was lucky to get in, and I think they were right. It was a new major. Maybe they just needed more students. I passed the basic entrance tests, but even then, I didn’t feel like I earned my spot.

When I saw the curriculum, my heart sank. So many algorithm-heavy courses—so much math. I was terrified.

I told myself: If I fail this, I have nothing left.

So I did something I’d never done before: I bought an advanced math textbook and started learning ahead.

It was hell.

But it worked.

Despite every voice in my head telling me I’d fail again, I aced the class. I got an A in advanced math.

Me. The guy who thought he could never do it.

That one win changed something in me. I started to believe, just a little.

But self-doubt never really left. It still lingers in the background—sometimes loud, sometimes quiet. But always there.

I remember admiring someone who worked at a state-owned company, thinking, He’s a real man. A provider. I’ll never be like that.

Yet somehow, I got into a similar company’s management trainee program on my first try—even after telling my parents not to get their hopes up.

Later, I got offers from tech companies. I didn’t think I could survive outside of the structure and safety of a corporation. So I said no. I stayed.

I’m a family man. That’s both a blessing and a weight. Eventually, I knew I had to try again—for them, and for me. I gave it my all, and finally, I walked away from my comfort zone.

My next job was with an offshore team, working with foreigners. I assumed I’d be invisible—just another cog in the system. I told myself: You won’t make friends. You’ll just get the job done.

Then the VP visited.

I wasn’t excited. I just wanted to meet other offshore folks. But when I heard the VP speak, something shifted. He believed in the company. He had vision. It sparked something in me.

The next year, I met the CTO. He wasn’t just a leader—he was kind. He saw me as a person, not just an employee.

I gave everything I had to that company. And slowly, every doubt I had at the start… disappeared.

When I left the company, I didn’t feel like I was running away. I felt proud. Fulfilled.

My teammates? They weren’t just coworkers anymore. We shared stories, laughter, even personal contact to stay in touch.

The man I never thought I could become—that’s who I turned out to be.

They saw it. They believed in me.

The most recent doubt?

I thought I’d be stuck. Forever doing the same job in the same place. Every rejection from abroad felt like confirmation: You’re not good enough. Every email hurt. But I kept applying.

And now?

I landed offers abroad.

I packed up. I left.

I’m working in a place I’d never imagined.

It’s terrifying.

Maybe this is just another chapter in the self-doubt saga. Maybe the fight isn’t over.

But I’m still fighting.

So… is self-doubt an unwinnable battle?

No.

Is it easy to win?

Hell no.

It’s painful. Relentless.

But I’ve learned this: Sometimes, all you need is one moment that proves you wrong. One little crack in the belief that you’ll never make it.

I’ve been lucky. I’ve had a few of those moments.

And I’ve had my family beside me through all of it. Without them, I might’ve missed my shot.

So I count my blessings.

And when doubt creeps in, I remember: the only way is forward.

You can fall. You can scream at the sky. You can hate yourself for a moment. But you get up.

And try again.