Project Submitted: I Wasn't Ready, But Here We Are

So, the project is in. Submitted. And guess what? I wasn't ready. Not even close. I was implicitly advised not to look back. Just move on, they said. What’s done is done, they said.

But, you know me—of course, I looked back.

I was reflecting on the final rule of Code Club: delete all commented-out code. Clean is king, right? No rogue lines, no unnecessary clutter. Cool, I can handle that. But then it hit me like a rogue semicolon—wait… did I miss something? I wouldn’t have forgotten that. Right? Who even puts emojis in their comments? 👀

And yet… it kept nagging at me, buzzing around my brain like a bug in an endless loop. Did I, in a moment of pure post-debugging delirium, actually leave a crying-laugh emoji in my code? 😂

I woke up with one of those massive “HUUUH” gasps. The kind where your whole body decides it’s time to panic before you’ve even opened your eyes.

Did I seriously leave an emoji in my code? 🙈

I mean, if I failed because of a rogue emoji, that’s got to be some kind of unique achievement, right? How many Code Institute students can say that was their downfall?

But looking back, it’s not just about an emoji (though I’ll be looking for it—trust me). What I really found was a reminder of how deep this journey took me. I gave everything I had to this course. Blood, sweat, tears, and possibly a few giggles at inappropriate times. And in return? Well, it gave me stuff in absolute spades. Lessons, growth, headaches—yes—but also victories, big and small. And hopefully, my kids will see the benefit of it all when they realize I’ve been steering this ship like a slightly unhinged pirate, but a pirate with intent.

Sure, there’s always a little threat of doom on the horizon, but you know what? I don’t believe in that anymore. I don’t have room for wolves peeking around doors. Desperate people do desperate things—that's something I heard right before I started this course. It hit home then, but now? Nah. No more.

This opportunity didn’t find me because I was desperate. It found me because I was curious. Could I have paid someone to build me a blog? Sure. But where’s the fun in that? I would’ve torn it apart until I understood it better than they did anyway. 😂

I’ll always be grateful to Code Institute (and Facebook ads) for finding me and throwing me into this wild world of coding. I know things are going to be okay. One of my excellent tutors summed it up perfectly: “You’re literally insane. What you’ve achieved is utterly bonkers.” Okay, fine, that’s not exactly what he said, but he’s definitely said stuff like that enough times that I’m confident he meant it.

For those of us who’ve made it this far, we’re legends. We gave it everything we had, and we had the most insane support along the way—people who kept our spirits up while making sure we had no illusions about what we’d signed up for. No pedestals, but wowzers—I needed this.

I know things will never be the same again.

And I’m still looking for that emoji. Maybe it’ll give the assessor a giggle. Honestly, I know I probably didn’t take the docs seriously enough. I know I know I know. And that’s okay. Because an easy win wouldn’t have led me here tonight, celebrating this epic fail in the way I’ve learned to over the last few months.

When people talk about epic fails, I don’t think they fully appreciate how epic failure can actually be. I do now.

And guess what? I’m almost ready for my comeback. I’m done hiding. I know I can help others—even if they just see me and think, “Wow, she literally wouldn’t look up or speak last time I saw her.” I’m here to show people there are options. Possibilities. We all have something inside us, something full of value, just waiting to be shared.

Recently, I had a revelation about sharing. Keeping your value hidden? That’s selfish. We all have a gift. Find out what it is and share it with the world. That’s what I’m doing now—holding the faith, buckling down hard, because this just has to work. No other option.