Going After The Wrong Dream
It was late August, more than 12 years ago – seemingly one of the happiest moments in my life. I had just received an offer for a year long paid internship as a Junior Web Developer.
At the time, it was all I had dreamed of. I had recently arrived in the UK, leaving my home country – Bulgaria, all of my friends and family behind. I wanted to prove myself capable and independent. I wanted to establish myself in this new and exciting place.
And after studying Software Engineering for a couple of years, an internship in the area seemed like the perfect opportunity for growth and realisation.
For the first few months, I was living the dream. I couldn’t wait for the day to start so I could put on a trouser and a nice shirt, and go to the office. This ritual alone made me feel important. On top of that, taking part in meetings, brainstorming sessions, office parties, and being able to call myself Junior Web Developer only added to the gravity of it all. It felt like I had finally arrived—like I was part of something bigger, something that mattered.
Nevertheless, a few months into my new job, the initial novelty and excitement began to fade, slowly giving way to stress and anxiety. It wasn’t just the workload—it was the growing realisation that I hadn’t chosen this path out of passion. I was chasing success, prestige, and a steady pay-check, not something that truly lit me up. And because of that, I constantly felt like an imposter—like I was pretending to be someone I wasn’t. No matter how much I achieved, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I didn’t belong, that I wasn’t good enough. The job I thought would bring me success, prestige, money, and respect was slowly killing my confidence.
And whilst on the outside it looked as if I had everything a young university student could ever ask for, on the inside I was trembling out of fear. Deeply insecure about my skills I was terrified that a moment will come when I will be exposed for who I really was – incompetent imposter.
Anyhow, I was unaware of the exact reason for my plummeting confidence. So I started looking for help. Therapists helped to some extent, but the relief was always temporary. Talking made me feel better in the moment, but not long after, the insecurity would creep back in—stronger than before.
I had no clue what was causing all of that.
For all that counts, I thought the reason is entirely me – confidence is just not one of my traits. Whatever I did or tried, the feelings of inferiority just increased more.
Until, one day.
I was reading a book on anxiety, and came across an interesting quote by Dr Eckhart von Hirschhausen:
“The luckless bird is standing on the scorching desert sand, wilting in the heat, and seems to have absolutely no chance of doing anything to improve the situation on its own. Little short legs make it hard to hike away, and as a flightless bird it cannot use its wings to finally find, somewhere, anywhere, cool, refreshing water. Poor penguin. How on earth did it end up in the desert? It can never, will never feel happy here. But is it the penguin that has something wrong with it, or simply that its surroundings are unsuitable?”
That was it!
I was a penguin in the desert!
This discovery brought a mix of relief and panic. Relief—because I realised there was nothing wrong with me after all. But panic—because if my job was my desert, then I had to do something. I had to leave. I had to find what truly nourished me, what made me feel alive again.
It took me a few more years of struggle, until I finally gathered the courage to quit.
And even though, it was scary at first, leaving my well respected and prestigious job was the best decision I have ever made.
And that led me to the realasation that:
Confidence isn’t an inborn trait—it’s something that’s built over time. It can be nurtured through practice, mindset, and most importantly, the right environment. Just as the wrong environment can quietly chip away at your confidence, the right one can help it flourish.
Not long after that, my confidence increased dramatically.
Looking back, I realise that walking away wasn’t a step back—it was a return to myself. Leaving that job made space for something far more valuable than a title or a pay-check: clarity, confidence, and a life aligned with who I really am. And while the path ahead is still unfolding, I now walk it with purpose—and that has made all the difference.