One Year In: Code, Change & Everything In Between

So, this isn’t usually the kind of thing I write. But I figured it was time to put some thoughts down about what my first year in software engineering has been like. Looking back, it’s been a ride — packed with lessons, unexpected challenges, and a whole lot of growth. This won’t be a deep technical post, just a fairly short look at what the past year has meant to me.

One Day or Day 1?

It all started on July 1st, when I officially joined BlackRock as an Analyst. I’d had a few internships before (including one here), but this was the real deal — full-time, full responsibility. And yeah, I was nervous. I remember getting ready that morning, putting on my best "I-have-it-all-together" outfit, quietly hyping myself up like I had something to prove.

One conversation stuck with me — something my manager told me before I joined full time:

It’s a marathon, not a race. You'll need to pace yourself.

At the time, I took that to heart — but maybe not in the way it was meant. I was full of ambition, eager to do something big, and maybe even a bit too sure of myself. I still laugh thinking back to my first Daily Standup during my internship — when I introduced myself to the team with a big grin and said:

I want to write code that changes the world!

There was a brief pause, then a few polite chuckles — the kind you give when an intern says something just a bit too earnest. Classic. But honestly? I meant every word. Sure, I might not have changed the world just yet… but one thing I do know?

This year changed me.

And I don’t say that lightly. It’s been a rollercoaster — full of lessons, stumbles, tiny wins, and moments that really pushed me. Cheesy as it might sound, I’ve grown in ways I didn’t expect — as an engineer, yes, but also as a person.

That’s what this blog is about. Not some polished, curated recap — but something a little more real. A look behind the scenes, raw and unfiltered. Just me, reflecting on a wild first year in tech.

🏸 Of Birdies, Burnout & Balance

Now, here’s the thing — I went all in. I mean really all in.

As a part of BlackRock’s Gives Initiative, I signed up for a company-wide Badminton tournament. And if you’ve read my fitness journey (shameless plug, I know), you’d already know how much I love playing. What started as just a fun way to stay fit has turned into one of my biggest passions — and I wasn’t about to take this lightly.

So, I trained hard. Played harder. And on the day of the tournament, I clocked in over six straight hours of near non-stop matches. It might sound like an exaggeration, but ask my legs… or better yet, ask my Apple Watch.

But here’s what hit me harder than any smash shot — the moment after. I was completely spent. Physically, sure. But also mentally. Somewhere between chasing drop shots and scrambling for smashes, I had a quiet realization: I needed to recalibrate.

Because pushing yourself is great — but pacing yourself is essential. Work is demanding. Life outside of work is demanding too. And if you’re the kind of person who throws 100% into everything (like I tend to do), then you’ll understand how easy it is to forget this: rest is part of the process.

That one day reminded me of something bigger I’ve been learning all year:

You grow the most when you slow down just enough to reflect.

It was just a tournament, yeah. But it felt like a mini-mirror — showing me how my work, my fitness, and even my mindset have evolved. Not just to perform, but to sustain.

⛳ Golf, Stillness, and Slowing Down

Next, I picked up something a little unexpected — golf.

Last summer, I went back home after nearly seven months away. It was long overdue. I needed the reset, the slower pace, and of course, some quality time with family. Somewhere between catching up and decompressing, I found myself on the golf course — a lot more than I planned.

And here’s the thing: I’m not a great golfer. Half my drives still slice into the rough. But that’s not the point.

What golf gave me was something I didn’t even realize I needed: stillness. In a life where I was constantly tracking steps, logging calories, monitoring health metrics, and managing work and internships — golf was the pause button. It forced me to slow down, breathe between shots, and learn to detach outcomes from effort.

The way you can hit a perfect shot and still miss the green because of the wind — that stuck with me. Because honestly, work (and life) often feels the same way. You can do everything right and still hit a bunker. That doesn’t mean your process is broken — it just means the game isn’t entirely in your control.

It also taught me how to focus, even when things weren’t going perfectly. That mindset translated beautifully back into my role at work — especially when debugging tricky issues or working on long-term projects. Golf reminded me that progress isn’t always visible in real-time, but if you stay consistent and intentional, it adds up.

🚪 Leaving the Lecture Hall: Entering the Real World

Next up, I graduated.

A bittersweet moment, if there ever was one. I had spent years dreaming about what life would be like after university — the freedom, the excitement, the so-called “real world.” But as I sat there, dressed in robes with the cap on my head and a camera flash in my face, all I could think about were the hostel nights. The chai breaks at 2 AM. The collective stress before deadlines. The random laughter echoing down empty hallways.

Back then, I was eager to move on. I thought college was just a stepping stone — something to "get through" before life really began. But sitting on the edge of that chapter closing, I was hit by a wave I didn’t see coming.

Don’t grow up — it’s a trap.

I had heard that line before, usually in jest. But that day, it landed differently. It stuck.

Of course, I was proud. Of what I’d done. Of how far I’d come. But there was also a tightness in my chest — a quiet realization that you don’t always recognize the good times until they’re behind you.

Still, as with everything else, I learned to move forward. Full steam ahead.

Graduating wasn’t just about the degree — it was about understanding the value of transitions, and learning to honor them. You can miss the past and still be excited for the future. Both can be true.

🏆 Milestones and Mirrors

“Accolades aren’t the measure of a man,” they say. And sure, I get the sentiment. But I’d be lying if I said I fully agree.

Here’s my take: attaching your entire self-worth to achievements is dangerous — it can spiral into imposter syndrome or leave you constantly chasing something that never feels like enough. But at the same time, milestones matter.

They’re checkpoints. Not for vanity or comparison, but for reflection.

They remind you of how far you’ve come — especially when you’re feeling stuck or adrift. In a world that’s always sprinting to the next thing, these little wins help you pause and ask:

Am I headed in the right direction?

That’s how I see it.

So no, I don’t think winning makes you better than anyone else. But I do think it pushes you to be better than yesterday’s version of yourself. And if that mindset keeps your compass calibrated — keeps your clock ticking forward — then it’s worth holding on to.

Anyway... here’s a little win that meant a lot to me (Winning the BlackRock Analyst Orientation Competition, Apologies for the Stupid Face):

🎓 From Whiteboard to Wisdom

“The student becomes the master.”

We’ve all heard it. But honestly? I never quite vibed with that phrase.

It always felt… final. Like there’s some clear point where learning stops and authority begins. And if there’s one thing I’ve come to believe — especially as an engineer — it’s that we’re always students. Always chasing down questions, breaking things just to see how they work, and navigating this endless maze called tech with equal parts curiosity and confusion.

But something did shift for me recently.

I found myself on the other side of the classroom — not as a student, but as someone sharing what they’d learned. Teaching advanced concepts like Progressive Web Apps, diving into the possibilities of Web3, and even giving talks on Generative AI and the broader tech landscape to both students and working professionals.

It was surreal. And a little humbling.

Not because I felt like a "master" — but because I could finally see how far I’d come. When you're knee-deep in code or struggling through late nights, it's hard to notice growth in real-time. But standing in front of a room full of people, breaking down ideas you once found difficult… that’s when it hits you.

These moments weren’t about ego or expertise. They were about connection — the kind that happens when someone nods along with an idea you just explained, and you realize:

Oh. I actually know this stuff now.

And that’s a powerful feeling.

One I’ll carry with me — as a reminder that no matter how far I go, I’ll always be that student at heart, running toward the next idea with wide eyes and open tabs.

🌻 The Quiet Wins: Growth Beyond the Résumé

The thing about personal growth is — no one claps for it. It doesn’t get performance reviews, awards, or promotions. But it’s there. In how you talk to yourself on bad days. In the boundaries you learn to set. In how you choose you — over and over again — when it’s hardest to.

And yet, this part of the journey is the most overlooked. Especially in a world that glorifies the grind. I get the hustle culture. I’ve lived it — thriving in internships, chasing excellence, balancing code and caffeine. But here’s what I’ve come to believe:

Anything that costs you your mental peace, your joy, or your self-worth — isn’t worth it.

I’m not at the peak of my journey. Not even halfway, if I’m honest. But I’ve learned enough to know that real success includes peace of mind. That my wins matter — the quiet ones, the personal ones, the ones that no one sees but still change everything.

I still have so much more to learn. And I want it all — not just the titles or the milestones, but the growth that feeds the mind, the strength that fuels the body, and the peace that lifts the soul.

As one of my favorite YouTubers, CaptainDisillusion, says so beautifully:

Love with your heart, and use your head for everything else.

I’m holding onto that — and walking into what’s next with curiosity, hope, and a quiet fire that doesn’t need to shout to be heard.