Closed Doors, Open Sky

Opportunity Is the Landscape, Not the Track

When I was looking for something to do when I grew up, I toyed with the idea of joining the FBI. (What avid reader of the detective genre doesn’t come to this conclusion?) At some point, the mental image of myself as a Special Agent seemed more Hollywood than reality, so I began to look around for more practical applications of my eagerness to save the world with the power of friendship™ and brains. Cybersecurity presented itself as an obvious specialty for a young computer science student. I saved a job description for “Computer Forensics Investigator” in a file called Tech_Goals.txt.

“I know what I want to do!” I joyfully told my parents.

It was a simple decision—but I was in for a plot twist.

In senior year of college, I enjoyed a fantastic cryptography course but struggled greatly in learning network security. I tried to get an independent study for cybersecurity, but in spite of great lengths (including a handwritten note slipped under the door), I could not get in touch with the specific professor I had set my sights on for mentoring me. I approached another in person and felt the conversation fall flat, in part due to my own nervousness. Honestly, I don’t think it was anyone’s fault. It was a good department. The pieces just weren’t aligning, something was off, and I began to doubt there was a future in it for me . . .

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A man must shape himself to a new mark directly the old one goes to ground.

—Ernest Shackleton, South

Fast-forward a few months: I graduated and landed my first job working for a 911 agency, something I hadn’t even envisioned as a possibility. With the gravitas of building and maintaining software systems 24/7 to serve first responders, as well as learning from a supportive team, it was the ideal environment for me at the time. Needless to say, I fell in love with the job and soon forgot about the disappointment of my old goal.

In the years since then, like every other professional, I have experienced further highs and lows in my journey in tech. I would not call the rejections “setbacks” now, but they sure felt like it at the time. Could I have worked harder, studied more for that interview, or taken more classes? Sometimes it was difficult to tell if I had personally failed or if it was all beyond my control.

I am not someone who believes things always work out, at least not in the specific outcomes one desires. As a person of Christian faith, what I trust is there is a chance in every situation to serve a Cause greater than the circumstances, which is, in itself, the fulfillment of purpose. At the same time, applying yourself towards worthy goals with patience, while opening your mind to potential you didn’t consider before, you stand a good chance of finding contentment in your path . . . and, sometimes, what you’re actually looking for, deep down.

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This past month, I’ve finally reached my long-term goal of switching careers to UX (!). There were several closed doors that preceded this, and I had kept my mind open to the possibility of remaining in software development. Looking back, perhaps there were things I could have done to push forward on this goal even more intently. But I can’t regret anything I learned along the way, and the experience of processing rejection and delay was invaluable.

If this change hadn’t occurred when it did, I would still be doing what I was doing as a software developer: finding openings to practice UX design in the spaces carved out by myself and the designers mentoring me. Maybe I would have even taken a 180 and explored cybersecurity again? Or gone back to school online? Who knows . . . Iteration is necessary in search of career contentment.

All this to say—closed doors do not have to shape a box you live and work in. And dreams can adapt to survive the trials of time, if you let them.