A personal look at staying relevant as a UI/UX developer in a rapidly changing industry
Several weeks ago, I saw a job listing that caught my eye. It started simple. The company wanted someone who could design and build clean user interfaces. That's what I do. So I kept reading.
Then the list of requirements started piling up. They wanted experience with React, Vue, and Angular. They also wanted accessibility knowledge, research skills, copywriting, analytics, and some backend familiarity. I wasn't even surprised. I just smiled and kept scrolling.
I've been in this field long enough to watch the definition of UI/UX evolve. It used to mean clean visuals and simple interactions. Then it included frameworks. Then automated testing. Now it touches nearly every part of the product. It's easy to see how that might feel overwhelming, but lately, I've started seeing it differently.
This shift means more opportunities to shape things. More ways to connect design and development. More chances to build systems that work for the people using them. That's exciting.
The tools are getting better. AI can generate layouts and code. It can suggest patterns. It can handle the boring parts like creating a big list of meaningful fake data (sorry Faker), or reviewing my posts for grammatical errors and redundancy. Yes, guilty... I let ChatGPT proof read my stuff before publishing it (sorry Grammarly). Instead of worrying, I've started to feel curious. What happens when the basics are covered? What new types of work can we do?
Why AI isn't the end of us (but I'm still paying attention)
The first time I saw ChatGPT generate HTML, I felt a mix of curiosity and disbelief. It wasn't perfect, but it was fast. A few months later, it got better. It started to understand context. It wrote helper functions. It even explained things I had forgotten.
I use it all the time now. Not to do the work for me, but to help me think. It unblocks me when I'm stuck. It helps me test ideas. It lets me focus more on the problem I'm solving and less on the syntax.
Some people are afraid this means our roles are going away. I don't see it that way. I see it as a shift in what we get to focus on. The strategic work. The human work. The messy, context-heavy parts that require taste, experience, and empathy.
AI is great at filling in the blanks. But it doesn't know which problems are worth solving. That's still up to us.
What I'm doubling down on
The more I think about the future, the more I find myself going back to the fundamentals.
Communication is at the top of that list. I've seen firsthand how good things happen when teams share ideas early and often. The best projects I've worked on weren't driven by perfect code or pixel alignment. They were driven by shared understanding.
I'm also doubling down on user experience in the truest sense. Not the deliverables, but the actual experience. What is it like to use this thing? What does it solve? What makes it enjoyable? Why does it even need to exist? These are the kinds of questions that still feel deeply human. I don't think they're going away.
I've also started simplifying my toolset. Not because I'm trying to resist change, but because I want to get better at the things that matter. I still explore new frameworks and libraries, but I no longer feel the need to learn all of them. I'm choosing depth over breadth, and that feels sustainable.
Signs that made me pause
There wasn't one big moment that made me rethink how I work. It was a series of small ones. Like watching someone generate a component with AI that looked almost exactly like the one I had just written from scratch. Or reading a job listing that blurred the lines between five different roles. Or realizing that half the tickets on a board didn't need custom design at all.
At first, these things felt like warning signs. Now I see them more as signals. They're pointing to a shift, but not necessarily a bad one.
If tools are getting better, and expectations are changing, then maybe my value isn't in doing everything myself. Maybe it's in knowing when to lean on those tools, and how to guide the work to a better result.
That realization has helped me stay flexible. I'm not here to fight change. I'm here to adapt and stay useful.
How I'm hedging my bets
I haven't overhauled my career. I haven't pivoted or gone back to school. But I've made some quiet changes that help me feel more prepared for whatever comes next.
I'm spending more time building systems instead of one-off solutions. I want to leave behind tools that can keep working even if I'm not around.
I've started writing more. Not just code, but reflections like this one. Writing helps me see patterns. It helps me connect dots. It also gives me something I can share with others—something real that shows how I think and work.
I've also adjusted how I learn. I don't try to chase every trend anymore. I follow my curiosity. If something grabs my attention, I follow it for a while. If it doesn't, I don't force it.
Most importantly, I'm trying to stay visible. Not in a loud, performative way. Just by showing up, doing the work, and letting people know I'm still here. That has opened more doors than I expected.
Burnout and the long game
Burnout used to sneak up on me. I'd take on too much. Try to keep up with everything. Work late, then wonder why I felt so foggy the next day.
These days, I'm trying to play the long game. I've stopped treating my career like a race. I think of it more like a trail. Sometimes I move fast. Sometimes I stop and look around. I try to enjoy the parts that feel good and rest when I can.
The truth is, I still love this work. I love solving weird problems. I love making things that help people. I love being part of a team that's trying to make something better than what came before.
And I want to keep loving it. That means protecting it. That means pacing myself.
A few hopeful thoughts
I don't have a ten-year plan. But I'm more excited about the future now than I've been in a long time.
We have tools that let us move faster, experiment more, and focus on the parts of the job that actually matter. We have access to knowledge, to each other, and to ways of working that didn't exist when I started. That feels like progress.
Yes, the landscape is shifting. Yes, we'll have to stay flexible. But we've always done that. This field has never been still. There's still a place for curiosity. Still a place for craft. Still a place for people who care about how things work, and how they feel to use.
We're not being replaced. We're being invited to grow. And I think that's a future worth sticking around for.