I Came for the JavaScript, Stayed for the Debugging Meltdowns
Welcome to the real dev life. And the thing is… I stayed.
When I started learning JavaScript, I thought I was getting into something sleek.
Logical. Modern. Maybe even fun?
The syntax was cute. The thought of coding was cool. The tutorials were colorful. The vibes were “build anything you dream.”
I was sold.
Fast-forward three months and I’m having an anxiety attack over a missing closing bracket while whispering to my console like it’s a confessional booth.
But guess what?
I stayed.
And not in spite of the chaos—because of it.
👩🏻💻 What I Thought JavaScript Would Be
I imagined coding as this futuristic superpower—fingertips flying, apps deploying, portfolio glowing under neon lights like I was starring in a sci-fi montage.
In my mind, JavaScript looked like this:
I’d type one elegant line of code
A website would magically appear
Recruiters would fall from the sky asking if I was free to start Monday
I thought I’d be building slick interactive apps in days.
That I’d understand closures after one YouTube video.
That I’d fall asleep dreaming in semicolons and wake up fluent in frameworks.
The vibe I expected?
✨ Hacker-chic productivity.
The vibe I got?
🚨 Missing parentheses and crying over undefined.
Spoiler: It’s messier.
So much messier.
But somehow—infinitely more satisfying.
🧏🏻♂️ What JavaScript Actually Is 💁🏻♀️
JavaScript is... opinionated.
It’s moody.
It changes how this behaves depending on the vibes.
It will let you write absolute nonsense and only break at runtime—in production.
It’s:
Accidentally creating infinite loops that crash your entire browser
Forgetting the difference between
==and===for the 97th timeFinding a bug, fixing it, and somehow creating two more
Typing
console.log()like it’s a love language40 open tabs
Console errors that read like ancient curses
Debugging meltdowns at 2 AM
JavaScript is many things: powerful, flexible, beautiful when it works… and an emotional minefield when it doesn’t.
But you know what?
It’s also addictive.
Every bug you squish feels like leveling up.
Every feature you finally get to work feels like you won the Kentucky Derby.
Every frustrating moment builds this weird thing called grit.
It’s not just a language—it’s a full-contact mental sport.
🪲 The Debugging Meltdowns
Ah yes, the sacred rite of passage.
🙅🏽♀️🙇🏽♀️🤷🏽♀️🤦🏽♀️🙍🏽♀️💆🏽♀️
These sessions were born out of:
Frustration
Desperation
Doubting everything you’ve ever learned
A mountain of console.logs
Googling a problem using words that barely make sense
Stumbling across a Stack Overflow thread from 2011 that somehow solves your issue
There’s a moment—every developer knows it—where you finally fix a bug you’ve been battling for hours.
You sit back, dazed, like you’ve just survived a war.
Then you say, out loud: “Oh. My. God. I’m a genius.”
These sessions built my resilience.
They also built my apps.
And honestly? They built me.
🎆 Why I Stayed 🌠
In the end, JavaScript isn’t just the language I learned—it’s the language that taught me.
It taught me patience. It taught me to think like a builder, not just a learner. It taught me that growth almost always comes from frustration, not instant wins.
That first little “aha!” moment when your function actually works? It’s addictive. You get an adrenaline rush. You chase it. You earn it. And before you know it, you’re hooked.
💫My JavaScript Journey 🫶🏽
I came for the syntax. I stayed for the stubbornness. For the “I have no idea what I’m doing but I refuse to give up” energy. For the debugging meltdowns that make the victories so much sweeter.
JavaScript didn’t just teach me how to code.
It taught me how to handle chaos, trust my gut, and laugh through the breakdowns.
JavaScript might break you a little. But it also rebuilds you—smarter, scrappier, stronger.
And that’s why I’m still here—brackets, bugs, meltdowns, and all.
It made me a developer. And I wouldn’t trade that journey for anything.
