15+ years in software testing taught me how to deal with bugs, unexpected failures, and changing requirements. Apparently, life decided it was time to test those skills outside of work.
If someone had told me at the beginning of 2026 that this year would challenge almost everything I thought I knew about stability, control, resilience, and myself, I probably would have laughed.
Not because I believed life was perfect.
But because I thought I had a reasonably good test strategy in place.
I had a career I had spent more than 15 years building. A family. Responsibilities. Plans for the future. Professional goals. A pretty clear picture of where I was going.
Sure, there were bugs here and there.
Nothing a little troubleshooting couldn't fix, right?
Well...
2026 had other plans.
And apparently, it skipped the change approval process entirely.
The funniest part?
The year isn't even over yet.
When life changes the requirements without telling you
In software testing, we know that requirements change.
Sometimes halfway through a sprint. Sometimes right before release. Sometimes after everyone has agreed that everything is finally ready.
We complain, we adapt, we reprioritize, and somehow we make it work.
But when life changes the requirements, it's different.
You don't get a Jira ticket.
You don't get an impact analysis.
And you certainly don't get to say, "Sorry, this wasn't included in the original scope."
This year, I made a major decision about my health. One that required courage, commitment, and a willingness to change habits I'd lived with for years.
It wasn't simply about losing weight.
It was about choosing myself, accepting that change can be uncomfortable, and learning that progress doesn't always look the way we expect.
Some days were easier than others. Some days I felt proud of how far I'd come. Other days, I had to remind myself that recovery, like progress, isn't always linear.
And while I was learning to navigate those changes, life decided to introduce another major update.
Around the same time, changes in the availability of projects led to some important conversations about my professional future and this suddenly became uncertain.
After nearly three years with my current company, changes in project availability led to some important conversations about my professional future.
It wasn't something I had originally planned, and it certainly came with mixed emotions.
And suddenly, after years of helping teams navigate challenges, I found myself facing a new one:
Finding the right next chapter for myself.
Not because I had stopped loving what I do.
Not because I had run out of ambition.
And certainly not because I had run out of experience.
But because sometimes business circumstances change, and with them, the direction of our careers.
That was a difficult lesson to accept.
Experience doesn't make you immune to uncertainty
There is something particularly strange about being an experienced professional and suddenly feeling like a beginner again.
I've built QA processes from scratch.
I've led teams, mentored people, coordinated complex testing activities, managed risks, worked through difficult releases, and helped organizations improve how they approach software quality.
I've spent years helping others find solutions.
And yet, there I was, updating my CV, writing applications, preparing for interviews, researching companies, reconsidering what I want from my next role, and wondering what the next chapter might look like.
It's a humbling experience.
You go from being the person people come to for answers to being the person waiting for someone to answer an email.
And if you've ever searched for a job, you know exactly what I mean.
The applications.
The interviews.
The polite rejections.
The silence.
The occasional "We were very impressed with your profile, but..."
And the inevitable question:
Am I really as good as I thought I was?
That's the dangerous part.
Because somewhere between application number 10 and another unanswered follow-up, it's surprisingly easy to start confusing your professional value with someone else's hiring decision.
But then I remind myself of something important.
I haven't suddenly lost 15 years of experience.
I haven't forgotten how to lead a team, manage testing activities, solve problems, or improve processes.
My skills haven't disappeared just because my professional circumstances are changing.
Lesson learned #1: Your value doesn't disappear just because a professional chapter comes to an end.
A job title is not your identity.
A company's hiring decision is not a measurement of your entire career.
And a rejection is not a verdict on your abilities.
Sometimes you're simply not the right fit for a particular opportunity.
Sometimes the timing is wrong.
And sometimes decisions are made for reasons you'll never fully understand.
None of that erases the work you've done, the people you've helped, or the knowledge you've built.
Being strong doesn't mean being unaffected
I've always considered myself a problem solver.
Give me a complicated situation, a challenging project, a team that needs structure, or a process that isn't working, and my instinct is to start looking for solutions.
It's probably one of the reasons I ended up in QA.
But this year taught me something I wish I'd understood earlier:
Not everything needs to be solved immediately. And not every problem is yours to fix.
Sometimes you're disappointed.
Sometimes you're frustrated.
Sometimes you're exhausted from having to be the responsible one.
And sometimes you simply don't have an answer.
That's not a failure.
That's being human.
I've had moments this year when I felt incredibly motivated, ready to learn something new and take on the world.
And I've had moments when I wondered how much more change I could realistically handle.
Both versions of me are real.
Both deserve a little understanding.
Lesson learned #2: Resilience isn't about never falling apart. It's about finding your way forward, even when you don't have everything figured out.
And sometimes finding your way forward means resting, asking for help, or admitting that something hurts.
No root cause analysis required.
What career uncertainty taught me about professional growth
This might be one of the most important professional lessons of the year.
I believe in commitment.
I believe in doing your job properly, supporting your colleagues, taking responsibility, and being someone others can count on.
I've always tried to bring those values into my professional life.
And I still do.
But I've also learned that even a career built with dedication, hard work, and long-term commitment can take an unexpected turn.
Organizations evolve.
Business priorities change.
Projects begin and end.
And sometimes those changes affect people who genuinely care about their work.
It's part of professional life, even when it catches us by surprise.
What matters is how we respond.
For me, this experience has been a reminder that professional development shouldn't stop when we feel comfortable in our current role.
Our careers are something we continue building throughout our lives.
Lesson learned #3: Be loyal to your values, your work ethic, and the people you work with. But never forget to invest in yourself.
Keep learning.
Keep your professional network alive.
Know your strengths.
Stay curious about opportunities outside your current environment.
And don't wait until you need a new job to remember how much you have to offer.
Sometimes the best investment is in yourself
In the middle of everything else, I kept learning.
I continued working on my professional certifications, revisiting concepts, challenging myself, and exploring new directions.
Was it always easy to find the motivation?
Absolutely not.
There were moments when studying felt like the last thing I wanted to do.
But there was something reassuring about it.
I couldn't control every decision being made around me.
I couldn't control the job market.
I couldn't control how quickly someone would respond to an application.
But I could control whether I continued to grow.
And after all these years in QA, I've realized something important:
The more experienced you become, the easier it is to assume you already know enough.
That's a trap.
Technology changes.
Testing evolves.
AI is transforming the way we work.
And the skills that brought us here won't necessarily be the only skills we'll need tomorrow.
Lesson learned #4: Experience is valuable. Curiosity is what keeps it valuable.
I don't want to be the professional who says, "I've been doing this for 15 years, so I already know everything."
I want to be the one who says, "I've been doing this for 15 years, and there's still so much I want to learn."
The people behind the processes
Another thing this year reminded me of is how much people matter.
Not job titles.
Not organizational charts.
Not performance dashboards.
People.
The colleague who takes five minutes (or much more ;) ) to check how you're doing.
The person who shares an opportunity.
The recruiter who actually takes the time to respond.
The friend who listens without immediately offering advice.
The family members who keep life moving, even when everything feels complicated.
Small gestures can have an enormous impact, especially when someone is going through a difficult period.
As a QA leader, I've always believed that good processes are important.
But great teams aren't built by processes alone.
They're built through trust, (real) empathy, communication, and the willingness to see the person behind the role.
Lesson learned #5: People might forget a project milestone or a perfectly executed test plan. They rarely forget how you made them feel.
And that's something I want to carry into every team I work with in the future.
What being a mother taught me about priorities
There's another part of my life that doesn't fit neatly into a professional CV.
I'm a mother of two.
And as any parent knows, children don't particularly care whether you have an important meeting, an interview tomorrow, or a hundred things on your to-do list.
Life keeps happening.
Someone needs help.
Someone gets hurt.
Someone has a question that absolutely cannot wait.
And suddenly your carefully planned schedule becomes irrelevant.
This year reminded me more than once that the most important things in life rarely come with calendar invitations.
I love my profession.
I love solving problems, leading teams, and building something meaningful.
But I also want to be present for the people who need me outside of work.
Lesson learned #6: Success isn't just about how far you go professionally. It's also about what you don't lose along the way.
And finding that balance?
Well, that's definitely still a work in progress.
Why 99bugs suddenly means even more to me
I came up with the idea for 99bugs around 7 years ago.
For a long time, it was one of those projects I kept promising myself I'd eventually start.
You know the ones.
When I have more time.
When things calm down.
When I'm ready.
Funny how we always expect some magical moment when life will finally become less complicated.
Spoiler alert: it doesn't.
But perhaps that's exactly why now feels like the right time.
The idea behind 99bugs has always been simple.
100 represents perfection. 99 represents the understanding that perfection is never guaranteed.
In software testing, we can execute thousands of test cases, automate countless scenarios, review requirements, analyze risks, and still never prove that every possible bug has been found.
Testing isn't about proving that defects don't exist.
It's about reducing uncertainty, discovering problems, and continuously improving quality.
And this year, I realized how much that philosophy applies to life.
You can plan carefully and still be surprised.
You can make good decisions and still face difficult consequences.
You can work hard and still encounter setbacks.
You can do everything you believe is right and still end up somewhere you never expected.
That doesn't mean the effort was wasted.
It means there was never a guarantee of perfection in the first place.
Lesson learned #7: Stop waiting for everything to be perfect before you start living, creating, or trying something new.
Maybe 99 is enough.
Maybe it's more than enough.
Maybe the missing 1% is what keeps us curious, humble, and moving forward.
So, has 2026 broken me?
No.
Has it challenged me?
Absolutely.
Has it made me question things I thought I was certain about?
More than once.
But it has also reminded me that I can adapt.
That I can start again without starting from zero.
That asking for help doesn't make me less capable.
That experience doesn't eliminate uncertainty, but it does give me tools to navigate it.
And that sometimes the most important progress isn't visible on a CV, a scale, or a performance report.
Sometimes progress is simply getting up the next morning and deciding to keep going.
I'm writing this in October 2026.
The year isn't over.
My next professional chapter is still taking shape.
And I don't know exactly what the coming months will bring.
But I've realized that I don't need to wait for a happy ending to recognize how much I've already learned.
I still love what I do.
I still believe in quality.
I still believe in people.
And I still have a lot to offer.
Perhaps more than ever.
I'm looking forward to bringing my experience, curiosity, and passion for QA into a new environment, working with talented people, and continuing to learn along the way.
Because this year hasn't erased my experience.
It has added to it.
One final thought
If you're going through a difficult year yourself, whether it's a career change, a health challenge, a personal setback, or simply the feeling that life isn't going according to plan, here's something I hope you'll remember:
You are allowed to be a work in progress.
You don't need to have every answer.
You don't need to get everything right the first time.
You don't need to be the strongest person in the room every single day.
And you certainly don't need to reach 100% to be worthy of a new beginning.
After all, even the best software keeps evolving.
And so do we.
Here's to imperfect plans, unexpected changes, second chances, and the courage to keep testing what life has to offer.
Because perfection was never the goal. Growth was.
Welcome to 99bugs. Always one bug away from perfection.
