< A Note on Perseverance />

• I am disabled and neurodivergent, and my path through education and work has been shaped far more by the absence of accommodation than by any lack of ability.
• I left university because the environment was not built for the way I learn and recover, and the same pattern followed into employment: burnout, health flare-ups, and inaccessible spaces made long-term stability hard, even when the technical work itself was never the problem.
• At one point, severe burnout left me unable to work for nearly two years. That experience reshaped how I think about systems, sustainability, and what meaningful support actually looks like.
• For eighteen months and counting, I have applied across nearly every route into tech — software, IT, automation, public sector, specialist disability employers, freelancing — and been met almost entirely with rejection, silence, or automated filters that close the door before a human ever sees the work.
• Every avenue turned out to be locked or empty. In freelancing I never became visible at all. Programs promised links to employers and had none. Platforms were saturated far past the point of entry. Even the support services meant to help kept hitting the same walls I did, rather than removing them.
• This is happening in one of the hardest markets software engineers have ever faced — entry-level hiring has collapsed, and disabled applicants are quietly screened out first. The barrier has rarely been my capability. It has been role structure, accommodation, and hiring channels that were never designed with people like me in mind.
• This is why I care so much about validation, maintainability, and developer experience. Clearer systems, better tooling, and predictable workflows are not just technical improvements — they are forms of accessibility. They reduce friction and make participation more possible.
• So I keep going on my own timeline. A rover on Mars does not stop because the terrain is hostile; being built for hostile ground is the whole point. It keeps moving, keeps gathering, keeps doing the work, whether or not anyone is watching. Through every closed door, I never stopped building.
• I have always been capable. I have not always been allowed to participate.
• Like that rover, arrival has never automatically created belonging. For me, belonging comes through curiosity, imagination, and building the structures that help people — including the ones the system was never designed for — move forward, together.