In the tech world, speed is everything—except when your fingers can't keep up with your mind.
Living with spinal muscular atrophy type 2 has shaped my life in many ways, including my 15-year journey in the tech industry. Throughout these years, I've worn many hats, whether it be frontend-, backend-, or full-stack developer, tech lead, scrum master and manager. The variety of roles I've taken on has not only honed my technical skills but also provided me with some of the most rewarding experiences of my life. It's through these challenges and triumphs that I've met remarkable people—some of whom I'm proud to call close friends.
Despite the occasional bouts of imposter syndrome, encounters with less-than-ideal companies, and even toxic environments, I wouldn't trade this profession for anything. My love for coding and problem-solving has always outweighed the obstacles.
The Tech Industry Gold Rush
To truly succeed in tech, particularly as a developer, one must pour their heart and soul into it. Recently, I've noticed an influx of people wanting to transition into tech or start fresh as developers. When I ask them about their motivations, the answers are often centered around perceptions that “it's cool” or "it can't be that hard sitting at a computer all day" or because of the lucrative paychecks. But in reality, the ones who thrive are those who wake up excited to explore new GitHub repositories over their morning coffee or those who code for the pure joy and pride of building something—even if it already exists. While this might sound like a broad stereotype, the essence remains true: passion is the key ingredient.
My Reality
But I'm not just writing to share my love for this field—I'm also here to share my pain.
Circling back to my disability, spinal muscular atrophy is a condition that progressively weakens my muscles over time. I've known this since childhood, when I was just a happy kid playing Mulle Meck on my father's Windows 98 PC. Of course, I later came to my senses and switched to a Mac, but that early curiosity never left me. In those days, my biggest worry was to build a working car, not the daily reality of muscles weakening with each passing year.
In my early twenties, I was full of energy and strength. I could touch-type my code late into the night, feeling unstoppable. But as the years passed, I noticed a slow, creeping decline. Each year, I found myself capable of less and less. I adapted—like Ross Geller trying to pivot. I automated tasks, remapped keyboard shortcuts, and tried to convince myself that these were solutions. But the truth was, my fingers just couldn't keep up with the speed of my thoughts.
The Pivot to Leadership
Naturally, I started transitioning to roles where all-day coding wasn't a necessity. I've been a manager, tech lead, and scrum master—sometimes juggling all three at once. These roles brought a sense of relief, easing the anxiety of “What if I can't keep coding much longer?”
Yet, the passion for coding never truly fades. It's in those late-night hacking sessions or moments of pair programming with my girlfriend that I'm reminded of what I love most about this field. And it's in those moments that I also face the stark reality that I'm no longer in control of my own body. But I've come to understand that it's okay.
Finding Hope in AI
The rapid advancement of AI tools offers me a glimmer of hope. These tools have made my work more accessible and productive, allowing me to continue doing what I love. And as I look to the future, I'm reassured that, with the right support, I can continue coding for as long as possible. Because at the end of the day, it's not just about the code we write, but the love and passion we pour into it—whether that's expressed through ten thousand lines of perfect code or a single line that stubbornly refuses to compile.
Tools like GitHub Copilot or Supermaven have altered the way I approach coding. Where my fingers might falter, AI steps in, suggesting snippets of code or completing lines that would have taken me much longer to type out. It's as if these AI tools have become an extension of my thoughts, bridging the gap between my mind's speed and my physical limitations.
Closing Thoughts
So, as I continue my journey professionally and as someone living with a progressive condition, I've learned that life, much like code, is all about adaptability. It's about refactoring when necessary, finding new ways to solve old problems, and—most importantly—never losing sight of what you love, even when the syntax gets complicated.
Life may throw us bugs that seem impossible to fix, but with resilience and a lot of passion; there's always a way to compile our experiences into something meaningful.