Something I learned way too late in my career is how important mentors and close professional figures are.
I’ve always been lucky to have a solid family and great friends—people I love and trust who’ve supported me through thick and thin. But when it came to work, things got complicated. The stuff I do is so specific that even the most encouraging cheerleader couldn’t follow along. They were always there to say “you’ve got this,” but couldn’t really tell me how to get it.
I figured that was enough. I felt lucky already—why ask for more?
My early jobs didn’t help. I was usually the lone dev in teams made of designers, marketers, or generalists. That gave me exposure to loads of useful stuff—SEO, content, UX, business—but I never had someone more technical to guide me. No senior dev to learn from. No feedback from someone who’d been there before.
Pair that with my chronic impostor syndrome, and you’ve got a recipe for doubt. I spent years thinking the praise I got didn’t count—because it came from people who weren’t “technical enough” to truly judge me. It messed with my confidence. I stayed quiet in conversations, avoided putting myself out there, and turned down opportunities out of fear I’d be exposed. I lost precious time to that fear.
Things changed when I joined a team with real senior devs. I got hired as a semi-hopeful React dev, still getting my bearings. It was trial by fire—real projects, tight deadlines, and a lot of pressure. But for the first time, I was surrounded by people who knew more than me and were open to sharing. They answered my silly questions, nerded out over weird bugs, and talked through their thought process with zero ego. It changed everything.
That team boosted my growth more in a few months than I’d experienced in years.
Looking back, I finally understood what a mentor really is. Not some formal figure on a pedestal—but someone you can watch and learn from. Someone a few steps ahead of you, making the road ahead clearer. That’s something I now actively look for in every role: a team where I can grow by osmosis, by proximity, by shared curiosity.
The flip side? Learning how to be that person for others.
I never set out to be anyone’s mentor. But at some point, younger colleagues started asking for advice. And it hit me—I had become “the senior dev” without noticing. My approach is simple: stay approachable. Titles like junior, mid, senior—they’re HR labels. What actually matters is empathy. Being kind. Remembering what it felt like to be brand new.
If you’re in that position now—someone others turn to—never underestimate the impact of simply being available. You don’t need all the answers. You just need to make space for someone else to grow.
I used to get my inspiration from afar—books, blogs, YouTube talks. They helped. But nothing compares to having someone right there in the trenches with you. Someone who nudges you forward, answers your questions, or just listens when you’re stuck. Maybe one day AI will do that, but I still believe the human touch matters. It’s that gut feeling, that little push, that shared frustration on a bad day—those things can’t be coded yet.
So yeah—mentors matter more than I ever realised. And now that I know, I won’t take them for granted.