After five years in tech, I’m facing underachievement and questioning my future as a frontend engineer in 2025.

Introduction

Five years ago, I dove headfirst into the world of tech, chasing a dream that flickered to life in the dim glow of internet cafés. I’m Abdulhammed Sotomiwa, a frontend engineer who’s spent half a decade wrestling with code, building interfaces, and hoping to carve out a space for myself. But as I sit here in March 2025, I’m staring down a tough truth: this might be my last year in tech. It’s not just the late nights or the endless learning curve. It’s the gnawing feeling of underachieving, especially when I count the meager coins in my pocket. Tech promised me a future, but after all this time, I’m wondering if it’s a promise it can’t keep.

The Journey So Far

My love for tech goes way back to my childhood. As a kid in primary school, my buddies and I would race to the local café after classes or even on weekends just to get our hands on a keyboard. Back then, it was cheap enough for us to pool our pocket money, a few naira each, to buy an hour of internet time. We’d crowd around a single screen, taking turns to browse the web, set up Facebook accounts, and marvel at how the internet cracked open a world beyond our small town. Sometimes, we’d get lucky. Some customers wouldn’t use up their minutes, and the café owner, with a wink, would let us stretch our hour a little longer. Those moments felt magical, like we were explorers in a digital frontier. It wasn’t just fun. It felt like the future was whispering my name through those clunky monitors.

That spark stayed with me. In March 2020, the coronavirus lockdown hit just as I was resuming as a 200-level student at The Federal University of Technology, Akure studying Quantity Surveying. While the world slowed down, I sped up. With school on hold, I had endless hours to explore, so I dove into frontend development, starting with the basics: HTML and CSS. Bit by bit, I built simple pages, feeling like a magician pulling designs out of thin air. Then came JavaScript, and suddenly my static sites danced with life. Buttons clicked, forms submitted, possibilities bloomed.

When school resumed, I juggled lectures with gigs. After almost a year of honing HTML, CSS, and JavaScript, I picked up React and later Next.js. By then, I was hooked, spending nights tweaking components and dreaming of pixel-perfect apps. These were small freelance jobs that kept the fire alive. I’d code late into the night after Quantity Surveying assignments, my laptop humming as I chased deadlines. I landed my first “real” project in 2021: a local business site that earned me a thank-you note. It wasn’t a big deal to some, but to me, starting out, it felt like a win. Back then, I was chasing experience, not cash. I’d scroll Twitter, see developers posting about their big breaks, and think, “That’ll be me someday.”

The Cracks in the Code

But somewhere along the way, the dream started to fray. Five years in, and I’m still earning less than $100 a month as a frontend engineer. Let that sink in: $100. After two weeks, 95% of it vanishes. Data to stay online, food to stay alive, transport to keep moving. Surviving on that isn’t just hard. It’s a daily tightrope walk. I’ve sent out hundreds of applications. Remote roles, startups, big firms. I’ve polished my portfolio, tailored cover letters, even messaged people privately using connections to seek new roles, only to get silence or the dreaded “we’ve gone with someone more experienced.” Meanwhile, I see peers who started after me landing jobs, buying cars, building lives. Me? I’m still refreshing my inbox, hoping for a break that never comes.

The money’s the loudest crack, but it’s not the only one. The industry’s shifting under my feet. Freelance gigs are drying up, and every job posting wants a full-stack unicorn for entry-level pay. I’ve kept pushing because “half a loaf is better than none,” and as a man, I’m supposed to provide for myself and, one day, my future family. I’m not supporting a family yet, but the pressure’s there, looming. Lately, that loaf feels like crumbs, and the hustle’s wearing thin. I’ve missed birthdays debugging code, skipped meals to afford data, and couldn’t even save for rainy days because it rains almost every day. Tech’s taken so much, but it hasn’t given back enough to keep me anchored.

Imagining Life Beyond Tech

So, I’ve started dreaming of what’s next. Maybe 2025 is the year I hang up my code editor and step into something new. My Quantity Surveying degree’s been gathering dust, but I could pivot to construction consulting. It’s something tangible, where I measure walls instead of pixels. I’ve always loved the idea of running my own business, maybe a small firm helping local projects take shape. Or perhaps I’ll teach, passing on what I’ve learned to kids like the boy I was, wide-eyed at a café computer, showing them how to build their own worlds, digital or otherwise.

Leaving tech feels like a leap off a cliff. I’d miss the thrill of a deploy going live, the satisfaction of a clean codebase, the community swapping tips and memes. But I’d gain something too. Freedom from screens dictating my days, from the pressure of mastering the next framework before I’ve caught my breath. I see myself waking up to sunlight instead of a Slack ping, spending evenings with friends instead of a terminal, building a life where my effort pays off in more than just “experience.” It’s scary, sure. I’ve poured five years into this. But it’s also a whisper of relief after years of scraping by.

One Foot Out the Door

As I write this on March 15, 2025, I’m torn. Tech’s been my home, my struggle, my pride. A rollercoaster of late nights and small victories. But it’s also left me questioning my worth, staring at a bank balance that mocks my grind. Maybe this year will surprise me with that dream job. A remote gig paying what I deserve, reigniting the spark. Or maybe I’ll walk away, trading code for concrete, screens for soil. I’m not fully decided, but I’m tired of underachieving, of giving my all to an industry that hands me crumbs in return.

Have you ever felt trapped in a passion that doesn’t pay off? Walked away from tech or fought to stay? I’d love to hear your story. For now, I’m one foot out the door, wondering if the next step takes me beyond the screen or pulls me back in.