I am standing at the edge of the swimming pool. 2,60m deep, the sign says. Blue, transparent, crystal clear. In a way, it’s beautiful.

It invites me. I swam there last week, and the week before, too. Right here, in the deep water.
We are not friends yet, but we know each other.

However, what my brain sees today is not the beauty and the ease of floating.
It’s depth and danger. That suffocating feeling of lack of air underwater.

I know I should jump.

But I cannot.

I am standing at the edge of the pool, and I just cannot move.

“I am here, you are safe” - the teacher says.

I trust her. I really do.

I want to jump, but my body denies. I am standing there, paralyzed.

I know I can. I just cannot.

I take a deep breath, almost jump, then... I step backwards.

I cannot see the water from the tears in my eyes.

I want this.

But my body cannot, not today.

I step forward again.

I am so close. I am paralyzed.

I sit down at the edge of the pool, my body shaking, my eyes are full with tears, my palms are sweaty and ice cold at the same time.

I cannot.

Not today.

In coaching, we talk about limiting beliefs a lot. There are so many methodologies, frameworks, and approaches for how to notice them, name them, and work through them.

But before we do any of that... can we just stop for a moment?

I think there’s something we often skip: the need to acknowledge these limiting beliefs.

They are not your enemy.

They are here for a reason.

They were born somewhere, in a home, in a classroom, at a dinner table, in moments and times when you learned that being too loud, too ambitious, too much of yourself made things... difficult.

And your younger self, in her quiet wisdom, adapted.

She learned to step back from the edge. To not jump.

To make herself small.

To stay safe.

And it worked. For a while, it really did. That belief kept you protected, it kept you accepted, it kept you from rocking the boat.

You felt small but safe, shaking but approved by others.

And you learned to ignore these signs, you learned to believe that this is how life works.

But here you are now.

You have changed.

You have grown.

You know you can.

You just... cannot. Not yet.

Your mind says “go”, but something deeper paralyzes you.

You step back instead of stepping forward.

Not because you are broken. Not because something went fundamentally wrong.

But because that old, scared part of you is still standing at the edge, still doing what it was taught to do.

Still keeping you safe from a danger that is no longer there.

The glass wall of limiting beliefs

I have my own limiting beliefs, too. We all do.

I am the person who cannot swim.

Who cannot be successful.

Who is not allowed to earn too much money.

Who is always less-than.

Who can never be good enough.

Who needs to be small to be accepted.

For long, I felt my life was in the dark fog, not seeing clearly, not being able to think clearly, not being able to move forward.

There were walls around, not only restricting my moves, but also blocking the view.

Living behind these walls was restrictive, and at the same time it gave me the feeling of safe and familiar.

Then later, slowly, the picture became clearer and clearer.

I started to set big goals.

I saw then, but still, they felt unreachable and impossible - at least, impossible for me.

I did not believe I could.

I am the one who cannot swim.

I am the one who cannot achieve these goals.

I am the one who cannot.

Looking back, I know I could.

Looking ahead, I’m paralyzed.

What I see know are still walls but made of glass, completely transparent, crystal clear - but impossible to walk through.

I can see my goals. I know what I want.

I know I can achieve them.

But that glass wall is there. I cannot move. I cannot do.

I hit the wall again and again when I try.

I feel blocked and paralyzed.

However, if there’s an emergency that pushes me forward, I go, hit and kick the wall until it breaks, making it space for me to move forward.

I fight, I break through, I move forward.

I know I can.

I have done this so many times...

However, if there is no emergency... there is nothing to escape from... there is no danger or threat that makes the move necessary... I just stand in front of the glass wall, I see my goal on the other side, the new path, the life that would be possible.

And I just stand there, silently.

I know I could, but I do nothing.

It feels so much safer to stay on this side...

So often, we avoid changes. We are paralyzed to move forward.

We are afraid to break the glass wall.

We are afraid that breaking the wall would hurt too much.

We are afraid what others will think.

We are afraid to jump.

We are afraid of changes.

We are afraid of failure.

We are afraid of success.

We stay in the job.

We stay in the bad marriage or relationship.

We stay being identified the person who cannot swim.

We don’t break through the glass wall and we stay in the perceived safety of the uncomfortable familiar.

But somewhere, something in us, dreams about breaking free.

Don’t destroy, push aside

One day, while having a conversation with my coach, talking about swimming, being paralyzed, and also how this is as an analogy of my life, my progress, my fears, and more... he made me realize: I am the one who owns the glass wall.

These glass walls are set up by me.

They stand where I put them.

They used to protect me.

Today, they are limiting beliefs that I created for myself, but I don’t need anymore.

They all show me what my life could be - but they also make me stay behind, in the safe and familiar.

And if I am the one who has built these glass walls, to protect me... and if these dangers don’t exist anymore... how could I remove them?

How can I move forward?
To jump?
To be free?

You still think you are the person who cannot swim.

But that was a year ago.

The today-you can swim very well.

Can you believe in her?”

And then something clicked.

What if... I asked myself. What if I don’t have to destroy these glass walls?

What if it doesn’t need to be painful?

What if can simply move them aside?

I started to visualize this during my meditations, the glass walls slowly moving aside, giving me space and air, more and more.

When making business plans.

When planning a new home.

When having a difficult conversation.

When thinking about my future.

And when I am at the pool, again.

I am at the swimming pool again, standing at the edge.

2,60m deep, the sign says. Blue, transparent, crystal clear. In a way, it’s beautiful.

It invites me. I swam there before.

I stood exactly here last time, paralyzed.

I see the depth, and I see the glass wall that prevents me from jumping.

I see how it tries to protect me.

“You cannot swim. Don’t jump. It’s dangerous.” - it shouts.

“Yes, I can.” - I whisper.

Gently, I push the wall aside. It’s moving away, slowly.

And I jump.

Now, it’s your turn.

Take a deep breath.

Move your glass walls, shift your limiting beliefs.

You can.

Everyone has his/her own story of life, and I’d like to share mine here.

I was born as the first child of a not-so-fotunate family, living in Eastern Hungary. My mother is a seamstress, my father is a metal worker. I inherited my father’s skills at problem solving; he had been always good in schools but he didn’t have the chance to get any higher education.

Being the “smart kid” of the family was definitely fun, but at the same time it was hard, too. Especially in school where being the smartest and poorest child in the class was a very bad combination. Since I didn’t have too many friends, I turned to what I was good at: learning.

I was extremely good in math. I wanted to be a doctor because I wanted to make a difference in people’s lives and I saw that doctors had a good living. In the 5th grade, we got a new math teacher who also taught programming. However, the school had a rule: programming was for the kids in the 8th grade only (last year in secondary school).

My math teacher recognized my math skills and managed to let me into the programming classes. I loved sitting next to the Commodore +4s! Controlling what they should do was one of the most powerful experiences I’d ever had by that time.

Next year, my math teacher let me in the class again — with the children who were in the 8th grade that year. But the curriculum was a repeat for me, therefore I got different, more advanced tasks to solve. The same happened the next years — by the time I left my elementary school, I was in a special love with programming (still on Commodores) and wanted to be a programmer of intelligent robots.

I had similar experiences in high school, too. I had the best ever math teacher, who was one of the most energetic persons I have ever met. She taught me not only strong math skills but also how to be more self-confident and how to stay strong and optimistic even if you feel the world is against you.

I had almost free and unlimited entry to the school’s computer room with two boys who were one year older than me. I spent my afternoons there, exploring the new PCs (after the Commodores in the elementary schools, PCs were a sky rocket experience!), new programming languages (Turbo Pascal!) and after a while new opportunities with the school’s Novel network.

With the boys, we wrote our own chat program which we could use to talk even if there was a class for other students in the room. I wrote a German-Hungarian translator program. And we did many other, small and funny programs, which I cannot even recall. I received 3rd place at a national programming competition two consecutive years, which was a great honor. It was a really amazing thing since we still didn’t have Internet in the school at that time! Can you imagine now how to self-learn programming without the Internet? — Yes, THAT was fun!

It was not a question that I wanted to learn programming further after high school.

I applied to the Budapest University of Technology and Economics and got accepted immediately. I was the very first person in my whole extended family who had university studies. I thought my life was on track — but after a few months of my studies, I realized that university was too much of a burden. The costs of my studies and living in the capital were way too much for my family to afford. They couldn’t support me any more… I got to a huge decision point. Everything suggested I had to stop my studies and look for some work. Nobody believed there was any way to avoid this and stay at the university, continuing my studies.

But I didn’t give up. I was sure there must be some way. As Nelson Mandela said, “It always seems impossible until it’s done.” I didn’t want to recognize it was impossible. Actually, I didn’t know it was impossible. And in the end, I made the decision: I would look for a job AND continue my studies.

Due to the programming awards I received during my high school years, I found a programming job at one of Hungary’s biggest and most famous IT companies. Less than five months after starting my studies, I found myself working there. I was rescued. I earned more than enough money to cover my studies and living expenses, and I didn’t have to interrupt my studies.

Was it difficult? Definitely. Those years were the hardest period of my life. I studied hard. I worked hard. I slept only a few hours every day. My parents got divorced. But while supporting my father and fighting with my mother, I was free. For the first time in my life… and I could do this because I made it possible for myself.

In the end, I finished my university studies and got my diploma after seven years. And I already had 6.5 years working experience which proved to be a HUGE benefit.

One more thing. If you know me, you know I travel a lot. I love traveling because it is one of the best experiences and one of the best teachers. It was not always so. I was 20 years old when I left Hungary for the very first time. (I attended a student exchange program in Vienna, Austria.)

I was 23 when I started to learn English.

I was over 25 when I sat on a plane for the first time! — Can you imagine? Since then, I have traveled to about 30 countries, met countless amazing people and I have friends around the world.

This is my story in a nutshell. I wanted to share it to inspire everyone: never give up. Even if you feel it’s impossible — it’s not! There’s always a way to move forward! Be curious. Be passionate. As Walt Disney said: “If you can dream it, you can do it.”

Be a good girl. Behave. Don’t be a burden. Be polite. Always smile. Don’t have a voice. Never stand up for yourself.

These are the rules. Invisible, unspoken, but loud. And impossible to measure - which also means, it’s impossible to ever fully meet them. No matter how good you are, you can never be good enough.

So you find another way. Something measurable. Something that gives you proof.

Good grades. Competitive sports. Music. Something you can point to and say: See? I am good.

And for a moment, it works. You feel it, that brief, bright flash of validation.

You did something.

You are something.

Maybe for a tiny moment, you feel good as well.

But it fades. And you need more. Be more. Be better.

You carry this pattern with you. Into your career. Into your relationships. Into every room you enter.

You need to prove you are a good employee. A good partner. A good friend. A good mother.

You need to do to prove.

And then do more.

Always more.

The idea that simply being yourself could ever be enough - it doesn’t even cross your mind.

Not because you rejected it. Because nobody ever showed you it was an option.

So you push. And push. And push more.

As a child, I tried everything I thought would make me good enough. Good behavior. Good grades. Whatever might earn that moment of validation. But it was never enough — because I was never validated as a person, only for what I did

Math and science became my safe space. A place that was mine, where nobody could reach or hurt me. A kind of cave.

Then I graduated from university, once my big dream. And then I did not go to my own graduation ceremony.

I was climbing the career ladder. Senior developer. Architect. Consultant.

Never satisfying enough.

I became a Microsoft MVP, renewed again and again for almost two decades. Spoke at conferences around the world. Authored books. Started my own consulting company. Worked with top companies and organizations around the world. Ones I would have never even dreamed of earlier.

Always push forward. Do more. Prove. Push hard.

More.

Always more.

Never enough.

Always have to prove. Keep proving. Keep doing. More. Always more.

More work. More projects. More overnight work marathons. More challenges to solve. More adrenalin. To prove that we are indispensable.

More money. One more car. A bigger house. Luxury watches and handbags. Private yachts and jets. More and more. Everything shiny, perfect, at least on the outside. To prove that we are valuable.

Better athletic performance. One more marathon. Faster time. Leaner body. Strict diets, counting calories, optimizing macros, brutal training schedules. The body becomes another project to optimize. To prove that we are strong.

Always helping and saving others. Always available. Always the one people call. Always solving everyone else’s problems. Because it’s easier than sitting with your own. Busyness disguised as generosity. To prove that you are needed.

And we never stop.

More.

More.

More.

Always more.

Until we cannot anymore.

The way out

There are two ways this ends.

The first one finds you.

Brutally and painfully.

Burnout doesn’t announce itself. It creeps in quietly, although looking back, there might be early signs. Then it explodes all at once. One morning you wake up and you simply cannot. Cannot perform. Cannot pretend anymore. The machine that kept running, that always delivered, that never said no - it just stops.

Your body says what your mind refused to hear for years: enough.

It’s humiliating. It’s terrifying.

And it is, in its own brutal way, a gift.

Because for the first time in your life, you are forced to stop doing.

And finally, you have to face yourself.

My stop came quietly. Not a dramatic collapse. Just a slow realization that I was going through life on autopilot. Showing up. Delivering. Being good in work. Serving my family as a mother. Smiling. Doing, doing, and doing more. Saying I am fine.

And feeling absolutely nothing.

Like watching my own life from behind glass. I was there. Technically present. But gone.

The second way comes from within. It’s a choice. Yours.

You catch yourself mid-sprint and you pause. Something shifts. A question surfaces that won’t go away: Is this actually what I want?

Once you ask this question, it’s impossible to un-think.

This realization is its own kind of shattering.

It asks you to give yourself permission. Permission to stop proving. Permission to want something different. Permission to simply be, without justification.

And that is terrifying, because you’ve never done it.

Because you don’t know who you are without the doing.

Because you are afraid, what would you find underneath all the achievements.

Because for the world, you are an expert - but now, you have to turn to something totally new and unknown: inwards.

I spent years not asking that question. And when it happened, I couldn’t stop asking it. On my long walks. In sleepless nights. While traveling. While doing chores. I was looking for what was wrong with me.

It took me a long time to understand: nothing was wrong.

Something had just been buried too long.

Both paths lead to the same place: deep, dark, painful.

You hit the ground. Exhausted and terrified. Forced or chosen - it happens. It hurts.

But on the ground, finally, there is stillness. And in that stillness, something becomes possible that wasn’t before.

You can start asking the questions that actually matter.

Not how do I do more?

But: Who am I, really? What do I actually want? What would it feel like to build a life that is mine?

And here, something else becomes clear: the voice that kept pushing, the one that said do more, better, prove it... that voice was never really yours.

That was the good girl (or boy).

The one who learned, very early, that being herself was not enough.

That doing was safer than being.

That approval, acceptance, and even love had to be earned, again and again, because it was never simply given.

She worked so hard. For so long. You can be grateful for her. You can say thank you. She helped you become who you are today.

And you can let her rest now.

This is the permission nobody gives you. You have to give it to yourself.

Permission to stop proving.

Permission not to be the good girl anymore.

Permission to want something different.

Permission to take up space. Not because you earned it. Simply, because you are you.

This is where it begins.

Not with answers. With the courage to ask.

I remember standing in the school classrom.

The teacher was asking who could bake some cookies for the kids’ Christmas party.

Before she even finished the sentence... my hand was up.

“Yes, of course!”

I don’t know where that came from.

Not because I had checked whether I had time. Not because I actually wanted to spend my evening before the party measuring flour and butter after a full day of work. Not even because I’m particularly good at baking.

My hand went up because it always went up.

Because somewhere in my body, there was this quiet, automatic calculation running in the background: If I say yes, I am useful. If I am useful, I belong. If I belong, I am safe.

And on the other side of that calculation was the fear, automatic, instant.

If I don’t say yes… I am difficult. I am letting people down. I am not a good parent.

If I say no... I am not good enough. Not committed enough.

If I say no... I will be left behind. Passed over. Forgotten. Judged.

Nobody said these things out loud. Nobody had to.

I had been saying them to myself for years.

I didn’t know that then. I just thought I was being helpful. A good parent. I wanted to be good enough. I wanted to belong.

I drove home, kids in the back seat, already mentally reorganising the week, already tired.

And I thought: why did I do that again?

Not for the first time.

Not for the last time either…

Someone asks you something.

A new project. A favour. A parents’ committee. Cookies for the school Christmas party. Making costumes for the whole team for Halloween.

And before you even finish the thought, before you check your calendar, your energy, your gut, you hear yourself say it.

“Yes, of course.”

Sounds familiar?

I know this feeling well.

For years, my default answer was yes. To clients. To colleagues. To requests that arrived on a Friday afternoon. To things I was good at but didn’t actually want to do.

I said yes because I thought that’s what made me valuable.

I said yes because I was afraid that saying no would make me difficult, ungrateful, or less-than.

I said yes because somewhere along the way I had learned - deeply, quietly, without even noticing - that being helpful was how I earned my place. I had to do things, to feel I am acceptable. Valuable. Good enough. Not less than others.

And for a long time, it worked.

Until it didn’t.

However, what nobody talks about: slowly, “yes” costs you too much.

The small yeses, one by one. Stacked up. Week after week. Day after day.

Yes to the extra meeting. Yes to covering for a colleague. Yes to one more task, one more request, one more thing.

Until one day you look at your calendar and there is no white space. No room for thinking. No room for eating and sleeping. No room for breathing. No room for the unexpected - the sick child, the broken pipe, the moment you just need to stop.

And you are already behind before the week even starts. Every week. Every day.

This is how overwhelm begins. Not with a crisis.

With a habit.

It is what happens when you give and give and give, and forget to protect what is yours.

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So why do we do it?

Why does yes come out so automatically?

For many of us, it comes from a very old belief: that our worth depends on our usefulness.

If I help, I am valued. If I say no, I am letting people down. If I disappoint, I might lose something - approval, belonging, love.

It’s not a rational thought. It doesn’t live in the thinking brain.

It lives much deeper than that. And it’s been always there for too long time.

Some of us learned it at home. Some in school. Some in the early years of our careers, when saying yes to everything felt like the only way to prove we deserved to be there.

And it worked back then.

The problem is, we never unlearned it.

Sounds familiar?

If so, how do you start? Saying no sounds difficult. Weird. Impossible.

Take a deep breath. And start gently.

Because changing a deeply wired habit is not about willpower. You cannot just decide to “become a no person” tomorrow. That’s not how it works.

But here is something small, completely doable, that changes everything:

You don’t have to answer immediately.

That’s it. That is the first step.

When someone makes a request, and your mouth is already forming the “yes”, just pause.

Take a breath.

And say one of these instead:

“Let me think about it, and I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

“I want to give this the energy it deserves. Can I get back to you by the end of the week?”

“I’m not sure right now, I have to check my schedule. Give me a few days, please.”

No drama. No apology. No excuses.

Just... a pause.

This pause does several things at once. It gives you time to check in with yourself: Do I actually want to do this? Do I have the capacity? Do I have energy? What would I say No to by saying Yes to this?

It also signals to others that your time and energy are not automatically available. That you are a person with limits, like any human being. And people respect this more than you think.

Nobody will say no on your behalf. Nobody will look at your calendar and say “she already has too much.” Nobody is watching out for your pile getting too big.

Only you can do that.

Saying no is not selfish.

It is not unkind.

It is not a failure of character.

It is one of the most important things you can learn to do - for yourself, for the people you love, and paradoxically, for the very people you want to help.

Because a “yes” given from a place of exhaustion is not a gift.

It’s a debt.

And maybe the real question isn't "why do I say yes so often." Maybe it is: what am I afraid will happen if I don't?

“You’re the search expert, right?”

I remember sitting in a conference room, 15 years into my IT career, and feeling my stomach tighten at those words. Expert. The word felt too big, too final, too... untrue.

I had the certifications. Successful business. Client projects around the world. Conference talks on four continents. From the outside, I looked like someone who had it all figured out.

Inside? I was convinced that any day, any moment now, someone would realize I didn’t actually know what I was doing… There were so many real experts all around…

The Silent Epidemic in Tech

Imposter syndrome in IT isn’t just common - it’s almost endemic. And there are specific reasons why those of us in technology struggle with it more than people in many other fields.

I worked with a senior manager a few years ago, let’s call her Sarah. She’d just finished presenting the quarterly roadmap to the board - a big deal, high stakes, lots of executives in the room. She walked through the details, answered questions, defended her team’s decisions. From the outside, she was professional, articulate, confident.

The CEO stopped her afterward: “That was excellent, Sarah. Really solid work.”

She smiled, thanked him, walked back to her office.

And there, when she closed the door, she immediately collapsed into her chair, her hands shaking.

For long hours that afternoon and evening, she mentally replayed every single thing she’d said. That one slide where she’d paused for a second - did they notice? The details she’d simplified for the non-technical board members - was that dumbing it down too much? Did she sound too confident? Not confident enough? And all the questions - did her answers make sense, or did she just... make something up?

The presentation had gone well. Objectively, really well. But in the privacy of her office, Sarah was convinced she’d somehow fooled everyone. Again - like so many times before.

This is what imposter syndrome looks like from the inside.

Think about it: In tech, we work in an industry where everything changes faster than we can learn it. The framework you mastered last year might be deprecated today. The programming language everyone swore by is suddenly “old school.” There’s always someone younger, faster, and seemingly smarter, knowing it better.

We’re surrounded by brilliant people. We see their polished LinkedIn profiles, their smart posts on social media, their confident conference presentations, their impressive GitHub contributions. What we don’t see are their 2am debugging sessions, their rejected pull requests, or the times they Googled “how does this even work” just like we do. And we also don’t see them questioning themselves often the same way we do…

And here’s what makes it worse: in IT, our work is visible in ways that feel exposing. Code reviews. System outages. Performance metrics. When we make a mistake, it’s not hidden in a private document - it’s there for the whole team, the whole company, and often, to the whole world to see.

When “Not Knowing Enough” Becomes Dangerous

I’ve watched imposter syndrome play out in many tech professionals I coach, and I’ve lived it myself. The risks are real, and they’re specific to our industry.

It amplifies burnout. When you already feel like you’re barely keeping up, you work longer hours trying to “catch up” to where you think you should be. You say yes to every project and side hustle because you need to prove yourself. You can’t rest because rest feels like falling behind. Eventually, your body and mind can’t sustain it.

It paralyzes career growth. You don’t apply for the senior role because “there’s so much you still don’t know.” You don’t speak up in meetings because “someone smarter than me has probably thought of this.” You don’t negotiate salary because “I’m lucky to have this job at all.” One of my coaching clients - a software engineer at a major financial firm - told me: “I keep waiting to feel ready. But what if I’m never ready?”

It creates toxic perfectionism. White trying to hide that we feel like imposters, slowly we become perfectionists. We spend hours on work that should take minutes. We check our deliverables seventeen times before submitting it. And still, we’re convinced we’ve missed something. We feel we are still not enough.

It isolates us. When you think you’re the only one who doesn’t really know what they’re doing, you stop being honest with colleagues. You stop admitting when you’re stuck. You stop asking for help. And isolation makes everything worse.

I remember a period where I prepared for every client meeting as if I were defending a PhD thesis. I’d stay up late, researching every possible question they might ask, trying to have an answer for everything. Because if I couldn’t answer something perfectly? That would prove I was the fraud I feared I was.

It was exhausting. And it was unsustainable.

The Truth Nobody Talks About

Here’s what I’ve learned in the past 25+ years: The feeling of “I don’t know enough” isn’t proof that you’re an imposter. It’s proof that you’re in a field that changes constantly and that you care about doing good work.

The senior developers who look so confident? They’re Googling things too. The CTO making architectural decisions? They’re also dealing with uncertainty. The difference isn’t that they know everything - it’s that they’ve learned to be comfortable with not knowing everything. - Or at least, to hide their feelings, and keep all their insecurities behind the doors. Just like Sarah did after the board meeting.

And here’s the thing about imposter syndrome in tech: it often hits the good ones hardest. The people who care deeply about quality. The ones who understand the complexity of what they’re working on. The ones who know enough to know how much they don’t know.

If you were actually incompetent, you probably wouldn’t be worried about being incompetent.

What Actually Helps

I’m not going to give you a list of “5 easy steps to overcome imposter syndrome” because that’s not how this works.

But I can share what helped me:

Name it. When that voice in your head starts saying “you’re not good enough,” recognize it for what it is. That’s imposter syndrome talking, not reality. Distance yourself from it. You are not this voice.
Take a note on your phone and write down every time you help someone, solve a problem, or receive positive feedback. When the imposter voice gets loud, open this list and read. Evidence matters.

Talk about it. Find one person you trust and tell them: “I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing.” I promise you, they’ll nod and probably say “Me too”. Breaking the silence breaks the isolation, and that alone makes everything easier.
If you feel, you can message or call me. I’ll nod and share stories of mine for sure…

Reframe “I don’t know.” In tech, “I don’t know” should not be end of the conversation - rather the beginning of problem-solving. Some of my best moments as a consultant came from saying “I don’t know - but let’s figure it out together.”
Slowly I learned that it’s not weakness. That’s how innovation happens.

Set boundaries. You cannot learn everything. You cannot be an expert in everything. And constantly trying will only feed the imposter feelings. Choose what really matters to you, and get good at saying no to the rest.

Work with your body, not just your mind. Imposter syndrome lives in your nervous system, not just your thoughts. When I feel it arising, I notice it in my body first - the tightness in my stomach, the shallow breathing, the urge to make myself smaller. Taking a walk in nature, and moving my body - these aren’t luxuries, they’re necessities for managing this naughty monster of mine.

A Different Way Forward

To be clear: in my own life, the imposter syndrome didn’t magically disappear. Even now, sometimes I wonder “who am I to say I’m an expert?” But I’ve learned to recognize that voice.

What changed wasn’t that I suddenly felt like an expert. What changed was that I learned that being good at what I do doesn’t mean knowing everything, having all the answers, or never feeling uncertain. It means showing up, always honestly, doing my best work, and being willing to learn and grow.

And that’s what I want for you too.

You’re not an imposter. You’re a skilled professional in an impossibly fast-moving field, trying to do good work while dealing with the entirely normal human experience of self-doubt.

That doesn’t make you a fraud. It makes you human.

And I believe, maybe that’s exactly what the tech industry needs more of.

If you're struggling with imposter syndrome, burnout, or feeling lost in your tech career, I'd love to talk. Book a free discovery call, and let's explore what's possible when you stop trying to prove yourself and start trusting yourself instead.

Maybe you’ve been feeling it for a while now.

The weight on Sunday evenings. The way you go quiet when people ask about work. The 2am thoughts that won’t let you sleep.

Something needs to change.

But what? And how? And what if you’re wrong?

I spent years in that space. Knowing but not knowing. Wanting but not moving. Pretending I was fine when I felt empty inside.

What I wish someone had told me: That I was not broken. That this was normal.

Career transitions follow a pattern.

It’s not random chaos. It’s not just you. There are four stages, and when you understand which one you’re in, the confusion starts to lift.

I’m hosting a free webinar on 12 February 2026 to share this framework: The Four Stages of Career Transition: From Crisis to Clarity.

I’ll share what I learned from changing after my 25-year successful tech career. The pattern I’ve seen again and again in my work with people in difficult transitions. The framework that makes it less scary.

If you’re somewhere in the middle of it - layoff, burnout, questioning, exploring - this might help.

It’s live on Zoom. 60 minutes. Free. And if you can’t make it live, I’ll send the recording.

Reserve a spot here

You don't have to figure it all out today. One step at a time.

“How are you?” - they ask.

“I’m fine.” - you respond.

You never say what you really feel. You never say “I feel empty.”

Maybe you have been ignoring this feeling too long. Maybe it’s so much your reality by now that you don’t even realize this could be anything else.

Slowly, “I feel empty” becomes your “I’m fine”.

Slowly, you become invisible, even for yourself.

This common response is a core behavior we often use to mask our true feelings. And it happens quietly: first, probably completely unconscioulsy, you start suppressing your needs, shelving your emotions, and telling the world: “I’m fine.” Then slowly, you forget that it could be anything else. You feel more and more empty and this emptiness becomes your “fine”.

At first, it’s a survival strategy. Eventually, it becomes a habit. And then, without noticing, it becomes your identity.

For many of us, this pattern is too familiar. You’re the reliable one, the caretaker, the problem-solver. You’re praised for your strength and selflessness, your nothing is impossible mentality. - And slowly, your feelings and desires shrink and fade away to make room for everyone else’s.

If you pause and observe yourself, you might notice:

• You’re always “fine,” even when you’re not.

• You say yes when you want to say no. Or maybe you don’t even know anymore what you want.

• You struggle to remember what you actually enjoy in life.

• Your children / partner / colleagues see you mainly in your caretaker role, not as a whole, feeling person.

But this is not just about feeling unfulfilled. Over time, suppressing your needs and emotions can lead to:

• Emotional numbness: You stop feeling, both the bad and the good.

• Burnout: Chronic self-neglect eventually catches up with your body and mind.

• Emotional overflow: Unexpressed needs don’t disappear; they turn into quiet anger or sadness.

• Relationship distance: When you’re invisible to yourself, it’s hard for others to truly see you. Children may grow up viewing their mother as a function, not a person. Partners may feel shut out. Friendships can fade away. In work, you might be considered the quiet nerd.

• Loss of identity: You forget who you are beyond your roles.

• Health issues: The unexpressed needs and supressed emotions accumulate in your body, increasing the risks of serious illnesses.

Why “I’m fine” feels safer (but isn’t)

Saying “I’m fine” can feel like slipping on a familiar, protective coat. For many of us this phrase is a shield. It’s a way to keep things smooth, avoid conflict, and not “burden” others with our needs.

• Fear of Rejection: If you’ve ever had your needs minimized or ignored in the past, you may have learned it’s safer not to ask. Over time, you internalize the idea that your needs are “too much” or “not important.”

• Avoiding Vulnerability: Admitting you’re not fine means opening yourself up to vulnerability. That can feel risky, especially if you’ve learned (consciously or not) that showing needs and emotions leads to being dismissed, misunderstood, or judged.

• Protecting Others: You might believe that expressing your needs will worry or inconvenience those around you. By saying “I’m fine”, you keep the peace and shield others from discomfort: your children, partner, colleagues, or friends.

• Habit and Conditioning: Sometimes, “I’m fine” is simply what you’ve always said. It’s automatic, a reflex born from years of putting others first or being praised for your resilience.

However, the paradox is that by trying to keep everyone else comfortable, you end up feeling isolated and unseen. By saying “I’m fine” to protect yourself, you actually make yourself more vulnerable to loneliness and burnout.

Steps to gently reclaim your Self

This isn’t about swinging to the other extreme or making dramatic changes overnight. That would never work. It’s about small, consistent steps to reconnect with your needs and emotions, and to let yourself be seen, first by you, then by others.

1. Notice the pattern

• Start with gentle self-observation. When do you say “I’m fine” automatically?

• Pause for a moment before every “I’m fine”. Check-in with yourself: how do you really feel in that moment?

• Try journaling at the end of the day: “How did I really feel today? What did I need that I didn’t express?”

2. Name one need each day

• Each morning, ask yourself: “What do I need now?” It could be rest, connection, a walk, a cup of tea, a hug, or five minutes alone.

• Write it down - even if you don’t act on it yet. The act of naming is powerful.

3. Practice micro-expression

• If expressing needs feels scary, start small.

  • Instead of “I’m fine”, try: “I’m a bit tired today”.

  • Or, “I’d love to take a short walk alone after dinner”.

• These “micro-expressions” build your confidence and gently signal to others that you’re a person with feelings and needs.

• Even if this feels weird, keep doing it, again and again. You need to learn this - and others need it, too. Don’t wait until it’s too late.

4. Seek for support

• If this feels overwhelming, remember: you are not alone. Reach out to a coach, therapist, or trusted friend. Sometimes, we need a witness to help us become visible again.

Don’t forget: you are more than the roles you fill.

You are allowed to have needs, feelings, and dreams - even if they don’t fit everyone else’s expectations.

Becoming visible starts with seeing yourself, gently and without judgment. One step at a time.

If this resonates, take three slow breaths. Place your hand on your heart. Ask yourself: What do I need now? And how can I honor that, just a little?

If you’re reading this, chances are you’re someone who’s used to moving fast.

Maybe you’re leading a team, building something new, or just trying to keep up in a world that never stops changing. In tech we’re told that speed is everything - and often in life, too. Everything feel urgent. Everything needs our attention now.

But what if the secret to real progress is… slowing down?

The Paradox of Progress

I’ve spent 25 years in IT, and I know firsthand how relentless the pace can be. There’s always a new gadget, a new framework, a new tool, another “urgent” email. The pressure to stay on top is real. It’s always there, and it feels impossible to keep up with.

But here’s what I’ve learned as both a tech consultant and a transformational coach:

Slowing down isn’t falling behind. It’s how you move forward with intention.

Why Slowing Down Feels So Hard

• Fear of Missing Out: In tech, pausing can feel risky. What if you miss the next big thing? What if you fall behind? What if you find yourself in a conversation when you have to admit: I don’t know?

• Internal Pressure: High-achievers are wired to push, learn, and improve. Always be better than others, better than you were yesterday. There is not a moment to pause and celebrate. There is always something “next”. Rest can feel like weakness.

• External Expectations: Teams, clients, and even family can expect you to be “on” 24/7. Emails. Teams. Slack. WhatsApp. Signal. Telegram. Discord… The notifications never stop. You answer to one message and receive three new ones.

Sound familiar? You’re not alone.

What Happens When You Pause?

• You will notice what actually matters (not just what’s loudest).

• You will be able to reconnect with your values and purpose.

• You will make better decisions—less firefighting, more strategy.

• You will remember that you’re human, not a machine.

A Simple Practice

Maybe you don’t have a forest nearby, maybe you are rather a beach person. Maybe you don’t have time or possibility to take a walk right now. It’s all ok.

Here’s something that you can do anywhere, anytime:

1. Find a quiet, comfortable place.

2. Set a timer for 5 minutes.

3. Put your phone away. The best is, if you leave it in another room.

4. Take three slow breaths.

5. Ask yourself: “Here and now, what is the most important?”

6. Note down the first thing that comes up.

No judgment. No to-do list. Just a pause.

Progress Isn’t Always Measured in Speed

What if your next breakthrough comes not from doing more, but from creating space to think, to feel, to breathe?

Slowing down can be the bravest - and most productive - thing you do this week.

Try this 5-minute pause today. Notice how you feel afterwards. If something surprising comes up, I’d love to hear about it - just reply or save this for when you need a reminder.

Take care of yourself. Real progress starts with a single, mindful breath.

One breath at a time.

Changing careers is rarely a smooth decision.

Whether you’re considering it out of desire or facing it due to a layoff, move, health issues, or other life events, career transitions often trigger fear.

In my coaching work, I’ve seen these fears come up again and again. And I’ve lived through many of them myself.

Here are ten of the most common fears people face during career change and questions to help you navigate them.

1. “It’s Too Late”

Whether you’re 30, 40, 50 or beyond, age is not a barrier to change.
The truth: it’s better to start today than to wonder “what if” ten years from now.

Ask yourself:

• What knowledge and experience do I bring with me?

• What do my past roles enable me to do today?

• Who can I trust with my plans for honest feedback and support?

2. “Career Changes Are Risky and Unstable”

Financial fear is real, but not always accurate. With proper planning, many career shifts are sustainable and even financially beneficial.

Ask yourself:

• What’s my current financial reality: savings, expenses, debt?

• Do I have a buffer or support system for the transition?

• What’s my long-term vision and does this change support it?

3. “I’ll Have to Start from Scratch”

You’re not starting over. You’re starting from experience.​
Most skills (especially soft skills) are highly transferable.

Ask yourself:

• Which past experiences align with what I want to do next?

• How can I reframe my story for a new audience?

• Who can help me identify and position my strengths?

4. “Changing Means I’ve Failed”

This fear runs deep. But change doesn’t mean failure, it means growth.​
Standing up for yourself isn’t giving up. It’s moving forward.

Ask yourself:

• What values are driving this decision?

• What might life look like if I never take this step?

• Who supports me and how can I lean on them?

5. “I Don’t Have the Right Connections”

Networking helps, but it’s not everything. Self-initiative and visibility go a long way.

Ask yourself:

• What content can I create to share my knowledge and interest?

• How can I improve my online presence (Substack, LinkedIn, website, etc.)?

• Are there communities I can join or projects I can volunteer for?

6. “I Can’t Switch to Something Completely Different”

You can. I’ve done it. Many of my clients have, too.
The key is being honest about what you want and taking intentional steps.

Ask yourself:

• What excites me about this new direction?

• What skills or experience can I carry over?

• Who can help me navigate the shift?

7. “I Need a Clear Plan Before I Start”

Plans are helpful, but so is flexibility. A career change can be an experiment, not a final answer.

Ask yourself:

• What small steps can I take before making a big move?

• Can I test this path through part-time or freelance work?

• What would a flexible, evolving plan look like for me?

8. “It’s Too Much Work”

Yes, it can be work. But not changing can be heavier.
The effort you put in now can lead to long-term fulfillment.

Ask yourself:

• What part of this transition feels hardest and can I get help?

• What excites me about the new path?

• What support do I need to keep going without burning out?

9. “I’ll Disappoint My Family or Friends”

Some people may not understand your decision and yes, that’s painful.
But your career is your life, and your fulfillment matters.

Ask yourself:

• Whose approval am I afraid to lose and why?

• Who truly supports me?

• What do I risk by staying where I am?

10. “What If I Regret It?”

Fear and excitement often show up together.
Regret is possible, but so is staying stuck and wondering “what if.”

Ask yourself:

• What does “success” mean to me beyond title or salary?

• What has past change taught me about my own resilience?

• What support systems can I put in place to navigate uncertainty?

+1: “My Current Job Is Safe”

You may feel secure now and that’s great.
But that doesn’t mean others are. Or that change won’t come later.

Please: If you’re in a place of stability, be someone who supports others on their journey. Offer perspective. Offer encouragement.

Change isn’t easy, but neither is staying stuck.

If you’re feeling the pull toward something new, that voice matters.
You don’t need a perfect plan. You just need the next step.

Take a breath. Ask better questions. And remember:
You’re not behind, you’re arriving.

If you’d like to explore this topic further in a 1:1 setting, book a free discovery call.
Sometimes one honest conversation is all it takes to move forward with more clarity.

Two women talking.

The younger one, bright-eyed and newly married, radiates joy. Her eyes sparkle as she describes the journey that led her here: more than a decade of dating, still living with her parents in her conservative, religious country, where “dating” truly means getting to know each other - patiently, intentionally, and always with respect for tradition. In her world, marriage is not simply a milestone; it is a lifelong commitment. Divorce is not an option; it’s not even legal. Decisions around marriage are made with care, gravity, and a deep sense of responsibility.

She speaks about the long years of anticipation - balancing family expectations, personal dreams, and the slow unfolding of trust. Every step is deliberate, slow, meaningful. Her wedding day, she says, felt like the culmination of a dream that had taken root years before.

“It’s real now. A dream come true,” she says, her voice carrying both relief and wonder, as if she’s still getting used to the sound of it.

Yet, even in her happiness, there is a quiet awareness that there is still so much unknown.

“And I’m still learning my new husband,” she adds, her smile softening, with a sense of vulnerability. “After all this time, it’s like we’re meeting each other again, in a totally new way.”

Across from her sits the other woman, relaxed but her gaze thoughtful. She’s on a different journey - she just finalized her divorce. The decision was made gradually, over time, through hours long walks and sleepless nights, considering million pieces of this puzzle of life, with care, thoughtfully, deliberately. She knows the pain it caused, but also the necessity. In her culture, divorce is possible, though never easy. She speaks quietly about the process: the gradual realization that change was needed, the pain, and the clarity that slowly emerged - a sense of relief that came from finally finally facing reality and being honest with herself.

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The contrast between their experiences could not be any more tangible. While one of them had been growing closer to her soon-to-be husband, in a parallel story the other was drifting away from her soon-to-be ex. Yet, what unfolds today is not a debate or a comparison, but a true, open, honest, deep exchange. There is no judgment, no advice-giving, no “I know it better”, no urge to “fix” or persuade. Instead, genuine curiosity - two women talking, discussing marriage and divorce, sharing their stories, listening deeply, and learning from each other.

They speak about love, commitment, dreams, and the courage it takes to honor both tradition and personal truth. There is laughter, a few tears, and an unspoken understanding that life rarely fits into neat boxes.

What is your story that you can share today? - Maybe you don’t even know yet. What’s obvious to you, might be new and eye opening to others. We are all different, shaped by culture, traditions, personal values, or just the realities of our lives, and each of us is navigating our own path. Cultural differences and personal decisions can seem like barriers, but I truly believe that they’re opportunities to expand our perspective. We all carry stories, dreams, scars and fragility, and a unique path that belongs to us alone.

And in the end, our stories, though different, are all threads in the same tapestry of human experience. Let’s embrace it together.

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I was 18 when I left my birth village to study at the Budapest University of Technology and Economics. My family did not understood why. It felt like betraying a script I never wrote.

Just a few months later, I was told to move back home and start working because the costs of my education and living in the big city were too much for my parents. I almost did. Almost…

Instead, I decided to rebel, to figure it out on my own - not moving back, just looking forward. I had no idea how, I just know I wanted this. I found a job. Studied and worked, days and nights have blurred together. Me and my stubbornness…

I was 20 when I started to learn English. I felt behind and embarrassed, but very, very determined.

I was 25 when I received my MSc in Computer Science. No one in my family had a frame for it, I did not even go to my own graduation ceremony. No celebration. It was just another day to live, to work, to move forward.

I was 28 when Microsoft awarded me a Most Valuable Professional (MVP) for the first time. I cried alone in my kitchen because I’d run out of words to say aloud.

I was 28 when I gave my first presentation in English at a major conference in Washington, DC.

I was 34 when I founded my consulting company. I had job offers from many, but I wanted to do it my own way.

I was 42 when I moved to The Netherlands with my family. New country, new language, new experiences, new identity puzzle.

I was 43 when I began coaching high-achieving professionals who were “successful” on paper and exhausted in real life - people like the younger me who needed more than a new plan. They needed a new truth.

I was 44 when I decided to divorce. Ending can be an act of love, too. You don’t owe anyone your unhappiness.

I was many ages when I learned to say no without a 12-paragraph justification.

I was many ages when I remembered that the body keeps score long after the calendar forgets.

I was many ages when “balance” stopped being a goal and slowly became a practice.

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Visiting and working in 30+ countries later. Countless conferences and workshops all around the globe. 18 MVP awards and many others. And still, the moments I return to are tiny: a bike ride after a big talk, a forest path where I finally exhaled, a client’s first unshakeable yes to their own life.

Here’s what I can tell you:

• You are not late. You are arriving.

• You don’t have to be understood to be true.

• The most important projects don’t fit in a résumé line.

• Balance is not found. It’s built - daily, gently, imperfectly.

If you’re somewhere between who you were told to be and who you’re becoming, you’re in the real work. Take three slow breaths. Then take one honest step. You are not alone.

PS: If this lands, tell me how old you were when something changed. I would like to know your story.

September is here, and in most countries, the new school year has just begun or is about to start. More than half the year is behind us. Vacation is over, and you might feel the urge to dive straight into your ever-growing task list: unanswered emails, calls and messages, follow-ups from missed meetings, parent-teacher conferences, the running race your child signed you up for, upcoming business trips, and more.

This. Is. Stressful.

But does it have to be?

What if, this time, you did things differently? Instead of immediately jumping into the work whirlwind, take a day off - for yourself.

I know this sounds counterproductive when your to-do list feels longer than ever, but bear with me. What if you used this day to look back on the past months - January through August 2025 - and reflect on your successes? Note what you’ve learned, organize your thoughts and notes, and then look ahead: Are your plans for September to December still realistic? Do you need to adjust or refine anything?

If you feel guilty about taking a day for yourself, you’re not alone. Many of my clients struggle with the same thoughts - especially those used to being “the reliable one” at work and at home. Remember, rest and reflection are investments in your future resilience.

Goals and plans are important - but life changes, and so do we. We need to stay flexible and agile, resilient to changes, and open to new opportunities.

Are you ready?

Let’s Get Started

It’s early September, which means there are still four months left in the year. If you want to slow down a bit for the holidays and the end of the year, now is the time to be smart and intentional - prepare yourself and your work, and get as much done as you can, on time.

As an entrepreneur, I’m lucky to have relative freedom over my schedule. At the same time, my clients’ schedules and budgets dictate many things, as so does my family’s calendar. I always need to respect and align with these. And of course, I have personal needs too: time for myself, friends, exercise, and more. That’s why I need to pause now and check in with myself: What have I accomplished in the past months? What worked, what didn’t? What’s still ahead, and what needs to be realigned?

Looking back

Over the past months and seasons, you’ve worked hard - it’s time to look back. What milestones have you reached? Which goals can you check off your list? What went well? When did you feel your best and most energized? When did you feel exhausted or empty? What lessons did you learn? What would you like to do differently next time?

Maybe you made plans in January, and everything is on track. If so, well done - it’s time to celebrate.

Or maybe things didn’t go as expected. Perhaps a life event happened that you didn’t plan for: a job change, illness, a move, a divorce, something else, or a combination of these. Life always throws surprises our way. Lean in. Leave room for the unexpected. Be flexible and resilient.

Life happens. Let it unfold. Evaluate, realign as needed, and then keep looking ahead.

Looking ahead

A new season - the final push of the year - is here. Goals can be achieved. Plans can be realigned. New plans can be made. You can make things happen.

What motivates you to move forward? What’s your vision? Why do you do what you do? Are your current goals still aligned with your “why,” or are you just running on autopilot?

Remember: when you’re working in sync with your vision and purpose, your energy flows freely.

What’s realistic in the coming months? What are the top three things you want to focus on? What can you eliminate from your schedule and task list? How can you free up more time (and creative energy) for what’s meaningful and important?

What other factors do you need to respect for this season? Write down everything - school breaks, travel, financial needs and limitations. If you know you tend to over-schedule, create an artificial boundary and schedule a “buffer” day in the middle (or end) of the week. Plan focus days with no calls, no meetings, no interruptions. Just you and your work, fully focused.

Clean up your desk. Clean up your notes. Clean up your calendar. Clean up your thoughts.

Make this your season.

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I spent last week in France with my children, our mobile home looking at a lake. While drinking my morning coffee on our terrace, I watched the fishermen arriving with the sunrise, taking their seats, and sitting there quietly, waiting patiently for long hours.

When they catch a fish, they pull it out, slowly, everyone having their own rituals. Someone takes a selfie, someone says something, maybe a goodbye to their catch - and then the fish is back in the water soon.

And this repeats again and again, ritually. The men and the fish, living in a symbiosis.

Watching them for long hours, I was thinking about this ritual, and I was thinking about the fish: being caught and returned, again and again, this being repeated all day every day. Do they suffer? Is this their normal, their bubble? Is this their own version of “life has always been like this…”? Do they try to avoid being caught, or they don't mind it anymore? Are there some rebel-fish, who never get caught? Or other type of rebel-fish, who wants to be caught, because then, at least for a few seconds, they see the world from a different perspective?

(Meanwhile, another man, another fish. The man releases it from the hook, lifts to eye level, and says something to the fish before letting it back to the water.)

Does the fish understand what the man tries to tell? Does the fish also tells something to the man? Does the man understand? Does he see how different the fish-world is to ours here, outside of the pond?

Or… is it? Is our life different, or we also live in the grind of our everydays, the Alltag as the German say?

Are we all fish in a pond?

We get caught, it might hurt, a different experience every time still the very same. Then we’re back in our pond, this warm and cozy, familiar reality.

Can we change? Do we want to change? Do we dare to dream about a life outside of this, maybe a bigger lake, maybe with less fishermen, maybe more food, more space to swim, more beauty - and maybe sharks, too. Maybe more life, more joy, more skills to learn, and more danger as well - but we don’t know until we experience.

I see people in their lukewarm pond so much. Staying in a job that makes them burn out. Staying in friendships that drain their energy. Staying in a relationship where they lost themselves long time ago.

Are we all fish in a pond of our limiting beliefs?

I invite you to pause for a moment and ask yourself: What is your pond? What rituals, routines, or beliefs do you swim in every day - sometimes comforting, sometimes confining? Are there edges you haven’t explored, or deeper waters you quietly long for? Maybe it’s time to notice not just the familiar safety of the pond, but the possibility of something more - beyond the surface, beyond what you’ve always known. What would it mean for you to slip past the hook, or even leap into a bigger, wilder lake? Are you ready to swim toward new horizons?