From Law to Design: How I Changed Careers Without Pathfinders

A few years ago, I had no idea how to break into the creative field. I knew I held strong cards, but I didn’t yet know how to play them. So often, they did not seem strong at all. The place where my intuition whispered—then screamed—was design. I sensed it was a space where I could meet my potential. And today, I’m here: not exactly where I imagined, but walking a path that feels (more and more) like mine.

This is a reflection on that journey—how change doesn’t happen overnight, but it is possible. And how navigating uncertainty is often the truest (and the only possible) form of control.

Stepping onto a path that didn’t feel right

I’ve always been a dreamer with eclectic interests: art, humanities, and a desire to do good in the world. In my final year of high school, I prepared both a portfolio for art school (industrial design) and an application to study law. I chose law. It felt ambitious, hard, and open enough to leave options.

I studied law, passed the bar, and started internships and then jobs early. But I never found joy in law offices—the rigid environment, the aesthetics of authority. I wandered through big corporations, boutique firms, and notary offices, always feeling out of place.

Eventually, I began writing about legal issues, and my work was published in Rzeczpospolita, a respected Polish daily. I became a full-time reporter. But still, I wanted more than reporting—I wanted to shape things.

The first step was curiosity

I moved cities to join a think tank. There, I encountered some very basic forms of service design or social innovation. It sparked something, but I was still not sure what and how to grasp it. I explored it further—worked in the arts, traveled, and eventually helped startups and research agencies with GDPR compliance.

That’s when it hit me: I was working alongside researchers and UX designers, and I wanted to do what they did. I was crying after some of those sessions—not out of sadness, but frustration. It felt impossibly far away and impossible.

But I wave to that version of myself. Patience, patience, you’ll get there.

Instinct over certainty

I quit my legal job without a clear vision. People advised me to stay until I had one. I didn’t. Instead, I listened to those vague instincts. When I had chosen law over art years ago, I hadn’t listened—and I wasn’t going to make that mistake twice.

I applied for several Master’s programs that resonated with my values and landed on an MA in Narrative Environments at Central Saint Martins. It was abstract and broad, but it helped me discover where I thrived: in research and ideation. I liked solving problems through design.

At the time, I imagined myself working with museums or communities, designing meaningful experiences. I started to do so, but then COVID hit.

Reframing, relearning, re-entering

COVID closed doors—no museums, no participatory experiences, and very few jobs in audience-based design. I worked in a bar to get by. But I knew I couldn’t go back. The path was foggy, but it was mine.

I grew curious about UX. It mirrored service design and the design thinking I already liked—just in a digital context. I started saying it out loud. On a trip to Rome, a stranger asked what I did. I said, "I’m a UX designer." I wasn’t. But I wanted to see how it felt. It felt right.

Soon after, I got a scholarship worth £15,000 for a UX bootcamp. I learned about Figma, UX research, and digital product design. Again, I found myself strongest in research and ideation. I had found my place.

Sweat and breakthrough

Getting the first UX job wasn’t easy, to say the least. Hundreds of cover letters. Freelance gigs that made the CV feel more real. Volunteering. Rejections. Weird interviews. But eventually, someone—my beautiful angel, Imeh, Head of Design Research at TPX Impact—saw the thread running through my story and gave me a shot.

I started as a strong mid-level Design Researcher at TPX, in digital transformation, working in the public and third sector. It’s been 2,5 years since I have supported local councils, central government, and charities to become more straightforward, more user-centred, and more effective.

What the journey taught me is teaching me

I wouldn’t have imagined this years ago, but it feels right. I get to use my legal and journalism background. Something I felt may have been irrelevant in my new career. I get to problem-solve, listen deeply, and shape services that (hopefully) make life a bit more human.

And this is only the beginning. Design is constant growth—questioning the status quo, embracing ambiguity, and staying open to surprise.

I’m still walking that path. It’s less foggy now, but still foggy. The difference is, I’ve learned to walk anyway.

I’m writing this because, back when I was shifting careers, I was hungry for stories like this—case studies of quiet reinvention. If any of it resonates, especially with fellow travellers on nonlinear paths, I hope it leaves you with something: a spark, a breath, a small shift.

There were no pathfinders on my journey—and maybe that’s what taught me how to design them. Ambiguity accompanied me all along. That’s probably why I feel at ease working in uncertain spaces—because I’ve spent enough time finding my way through them.

Thanks for reading.
And to my partner, thank you for being my quiet anchor through the fog.