For Most of My Life I Thought Technology Was for Other People

If you had told me twenty years ago that I'd be building a website, learning SEO, figuring out internal linking, and writing articles online, I probably would have laughed.

Not because I thought it was impossible.

Because I genuinely believed I wasn't the kind of person who could do it.

I've never considered myself tech savvy.

In fact, I was late to almost every piece of technology that came along.

When computers started becoming common, I thought they were neat. But I didn't rush out to get one.

Years later, I finally bought a Gateway desktop computer.

I was proud of it.

But if we're being honest, I mostly used it to play Solitaire, browse the internet, and ask questions on Ask Jeeves.

That was about the extent of my technological expertise.

The same thing happened with cell phones.

I was late to that party too.

While everybody else seemed excited about the newest devices, I mostly looked at technology and thought, "That looks complicated."

I wasn't against it.

I just assumed it was something other people understood better than I ever would.

Looking back now, I realize the biggest obstacle wasn't technology.

It was the story I kept telling myself.

I had convinced myself that I wasn't good at that kind of thing.

And once you decide who you are, it's amazing how much evidence you'll collect to support that belief.

Every mistake became proof.

Every confusing screen became proof.

Every time I needed help became proof.

See?

I knew I wasn't good at this.

For years, I carried that story around with me.

Then something changed.

I got curious.

Not about technology itself.

About creating things.

Canva was one of the first things that really caught my attention.

I wasn't trying to become a computer expert.

I just liked the idea of making something.

Designing something.

Creating something that hadn't existed before.

That curiosity slowly led me down a path I never expected to take.

I started watching videos.

Lots of videos.

For months.

Probably close to a year before I ever made my first move.

I watched other people create journals and digital products.

I listened.

I learned.

I doubted myself.

Then one day I decided to try.

I created my first journal and published it on Amazon.

And to my surprise, people actually bought it.

Not thousands of copies.

Not enough to retire on.

But enough to prove something important.

Regular people could learn this stuff.

Regular people could create things.

Regular people could put something into the world that didn't exist before.

That small success changed the way I saw myself.

Not overnight.

But little by little.

I started a YouTube channel.

I kept learning.

I kept experimenting.

I kept trying things that once felt completely outside my comfort zone.

Today I'm learning things that would have terrified me years ago.

Website building.

WordPress.

SEO.

Internal linking.

Headings.

Formatting.

Pixel sizes.

And let me tell you, there have been days when those heading sizes and formatting rules made me want to pull my hair out.

Some days I still feel like I have no idea what I'm doing.

But I've learned something important.

Most people aren't born knowing how to do these things.

They learn.

Slowly.

Awkwardly.

One mistake at a time.

The biggest lesson wasn't about computers.

It wasn't about websites.

And it wasn't about technology.

The biggest lesson was realizing that I had spent years putting limits on myself that didn't actually exist.

I wasn't incapable.

I was inexperienced.

There's a difference.

And at 53 years old, I'm still discovering that there are things I can learn, build, and accomplish that I never thought were possible.

Sometimes the thing standing between us and a completely different life isn't talent.

Sometimes it's a story we've been telling ourselves for years.

And sometimes changing your life starts by changing the story.