I’ve said “I’m not cut out for this” twice. The first time was when I was studying physics at university; the second was when I switched careers and went into design in New Zealand—even though by then, design had supported me for more than a decade.
I studied physics at university. I failed one course twice and ended up not graduating on time. In 2021, when I read Carol Dweck’s *Mindset*, I recorded a short reflection on the book. I said that back then, I’d felt I just wasn’t the kind of person who could study that subject. It was too hard.
But honestly, struggling with the subject was only part of the reason. In my second year, I got hooked on computers. I spent every day using Photoshop to swap people’s heads around. Later, I took on a few freelance graphic design jobs and taught computer classes at a training center. I also wrote in my diary that my side gigs had something to do with not graduating on time.
That skill eventually became my career. Later, I returned to the same university to teach design courses in the School of Art and Design. So I have two sets of memories of that place: one as a struggling physics student, mostly hanging around the physics building; the other as a design instructor, mostly hanging around a different building.
According to *Mindset*, I had a fixed mindset about physics back then: I failed once and passed judgment on myself. A growth mindset would say that failure is just information, and you should keep trying. That framework is useful, but it doesn’t quite explain what happened to me. Leaving physics had little to do with my mindset. By then, my interests had already shifted to Photoshop. In my reflection on the book, I even joked: “The author is holding a hammer, so everything looks like a nail.”
The second time I said it was during the years I was changing careers in New Zealand. I was teaching myself at home, putting together a portfolio, looking for work, and parenting full-time. One day, I saw a mail van and thought: “Can I really do design? Maybe I’m just not cut out for it. Maybe I should just find some job delivering mail.” Later, after another company turned me down, I tried to encourage myself in my diary: “You’ve been teaching yourself Photoshop since your second year of university. You’ve made a living from this skill for more than a decade. Don’t sell yourself short.”
That experience changed how I understood the phrase. “I’m not cut out for this” can surface during any difficult transition—even in a field where you later do pretty well. So the thought itself doesn’t tell you whether you’re suited to something. A growth mindset can help you avoid treating one failure as a final verdict, but it can’t tell you whether to stay or change direction.
What finally quieted that thought a little was something I realized in early 2025. In my morning notes, I wrote that design in a company is largely about making decisions around business goals, resources, and people’s psychology. It’s a lot like a science. In that moment, the impostor feelings I’d had as a self-taught designer suddenly faded. I understand science, and I have design skills. The feeling still comes back now and then, but I know what it is.
If you’re saying this to yourself too, you could ask yourself one more question: when no one is judging me, what do I keep gravitating toward? For me, back in my second year of university, the answer was right there in those photos on my computer with people’s heads swapped around.
The photo was taken two years ago. The real person’s head was never swapped.
I studied physics at university. I failed one course twice and ended up not graduating on time. In 2021, when I read Carol Dweck’s *Mindset*, I recorded a short reflection on the book. I said that back then, I’d felt I just wasn’t the kind of person who could study that subject. It was too hard.
But honestly, struggling with the subject was only part of the reason. In my second year, I got hooked on computers. I spent every day using Photoshop to swap people’s heads around. Later, I took on a few freelance graphic design jobs and taught computer classes at a training center. I also wrote in my diary that my side gigs had something to do with not graduating on time.
That skill eventually became my career. Later, I returned to the same university to teach design courses in the School of Art and Design. So I have two sets of memories of that place: one as a struggling physics student, mostly hanging around the physics building; the other as a design instructor, mostly hanging around a different building.
According to *Mindset*, I had a fixed mindset about physics back then: I failed once and passed judgment on myself. A growth mindset would say that failure is just information, and you should keep trying. That framework is useful, but it doesn’t quite explain what happened to me. Leaving physics had little to do with my mindset. By then, my interests had already shifted to Photoshop. In my reflection on the book, I even joked: “The author is holding a hammer, so everything looks like a nail.”
The second time I said it was during the years I was changing careers in New Zealand. I was teaching myself at home, putting together a portfolio, looking for work, and parenting full-time. One day, I saw a mail van and thought: “Can I really do design? Maybe I’m just not cut out for it. Maybe I should just find some job delivering mail.” Later, after another company turned me down, I tried to encourage myself in my diary: “You’ve been teaching yourself Photoshop since your second year of university. You’ve made a living from this skill for more than a decade. Don’t sell yourself short.”
That experience changed how I understood the phrase. “I’m not cut out for this” can surface during any difficult transition—even in a field where you later do pretty well. So the thought itself doesn’t tell you whether you’re suited to something. A growth mindset can help you avoid treating one failure as a final verdict, but it can’t tell you whether to stay or change direction.
What finally quieted that thought a little was something I realized in early 2025. In my morning notes, I wrote that design in a company is largely about making decisions around business goals, resources, and people’s psychology. It’s a lot like a science. In that moment, the impostor feelings I’d had as a self-taught designer suddenly faded. I understand science, and I have design skills. The feeling still comes back now and then, but I know what it is.
If you’re saying this to yourself too, you could ask yourself one more question: when no one is judging me, what do I keep gravitating toward? For me, back in my second year of university, the answer was right there in those photos on my computer with people’s heads swapped around.
The photo was taken two years ago. The real person’s head was never swapped.