22nd February 2018
22nd February 2018.
That was the day I started my first permanent UX role.
Not my first UX project - I’d been doing small UX projects since May 2017. Late nights. Portfolio tweaks. Rejections. Freelance bits. Questioning whether I was kidding myself. But 22nd February 2018 was different.
It was the day it became real.
I joined Paddy Power Betfair as a junior UX designer. I remember the feeling vividly. Equal parts excitement and quiet panic. I’d changed careers. I’d convinced someone to take a chance on me. Now I had to prove it wasn’t a mistake.
Eight years later, I’m a Senior Product Designer at JD Sports.
And 22nd February 2026 will mark eight years of permanent UX roles.
It will also mark eight months since my son was born.
That overlap isn’t lost on me.
This isn’t a “how to get into UX” post. It’s a reflection. On growth. On pressure. On identity. On what eight years really teaches you.
The beginning: proving I belonged.
When I joined Paddy Power Betfair, I didn’t feel like a designer.
I felt like someone who had managed to sneak in.
I didn’t have a traditional design background. I didn’t speak fluent design jargon. I just had curiosity, work ethic, and a stubborn belief that I could learn fast.
The first year wasn’t glamorous. It was absorbing everything. Watching senior designers closely. Trying not to sound stupid in critique sessions. Over-preparing for every stakeholder meeting. Replaying conversations in my head on the commute home.
And I was lucky.
I had a mentor in Leon Copeland - someone who invested time in me when I didn’t even know the right questions to ask. He challenged my thinking, sharpened my standards, and showed me what “good” really looked like.
We haven’t worked together for years now.
But we still send each other Instagram reels.
And in a strange way, that says everything about the kind of impact real mentorship has. It outlasts job titles.
Imposter syndrome wasn’t a buzzword back then. It was daily.
But here’s what I didn’t realise at the time:
You don’t become a designer the day you get the job.
You become a designer slowly - through repetition, discomfort, feedback, and surviving projects that stretch you.
The middle years: learning what actually matters.
Somewhere between junior and senior, something shifts.
You realise UX isn’t about wireframes.
It’s not about Sketch. Or Axure. Or XD. Figma
It’s not even about the perfectly structured research deck.
It’s about judgement.
It’s about knowing when to push and when to let go.
When to simplify.
When to zoom out.
When to protect the user.
When to align with the business.
Working in large organisations taught me that design maturity isn’t just craft - it’s influence.
It’s navigating complexity.
It’s building trust.
It’s helping teams think more clearly.
And honestly? That took years.
I used to think career growth would feel obvious - promotions, titles, confidence unlocked.
Instead, it felt subtle.
Quieter.
Like one day you’re in a meeting and realise you’re not nervous anymore.
You’re guiding it.
The part nobody talks about.
There were doubts.
Moments I questioned whether I was progressing fast enough.
Moments I compared myself to designers who seemed more “naturally” talented.
Moments I wondered whether I should move into leadership, strategy, something else entirely.
UX isn’t linear.
There are seasons where you’re learning rapidly.
And seasons where you’re consolidating.
And seasons where life outside of work reshapes everything.
Which brings me to now.
Eight years of UX. Eight months of fatherhood.
On 22nd February 2026, I’ll have been in permanent UX roles for eight years.
And I’ll have been a dad for eight months.
Becoming a father has reframed my perspective in ways I didn’t expect.
Time feels different.
Energy feels different.
Ambition feels different.
I still care deeply about craft. About strategy. About building meaningful products.
But I care more about sustainability now.
About impact.
About mentoring others.
About designing a career that aligns with the life I want - not just the title I could chase.
UX taught me empathy professionally.
Fatherhood is teaching me empathy personally.
And the overlap feels significant.
What eight years has really taught me
If I strip it back, here’s what I’ve learned:
Your background is an advantage, even if it doesn’t look like design.
Confidence is earned through discomfort.
Mentorship changes trajectories.
Influence matters more than pixels.
Growth isn’t loud- it’s gradual.
Longevity in this field requires self-awareness.
Most importantly:
You don’t need to have it all figured out.
On 22nd February 2018, I didn’t.
In 2026, I still don’t.
But I trust myself more now.
And that might be the biggest shift of all.
