The Hidden Struggles Behind an Interior Design Career (12 Years of Lessons)

When I started studying Interior Design, I genuinely believed that if I became technically strong enough, everything else would follow.

If I knew the software.

If my concepts were solid.

If my presentations were convincing.

The rest would solve itself.

After 12 years working in Milan — on apartments, hotels, offices, contract projects and later inside a corporate structure — I know that design was never the hardest part.

The hardest part was psychological.

It was sitting in front of a client who didn’t like something I was sure about.

It was realizing that even if you do everything correctly, something can still go wrong.

It was understanding that once you move from student to professional,

your decisions have financial consequences.

Nobody talks about that when you’re at university.

You learn how to draw.

You don’t learn how to handle doubt.

In my first years, every mistake felt personal.

If a client questioned a choice, I questioned myself.

If a project slowed down, I assumed I wasn’t capable enough.

It took me years to understand that the real struggle in this career is not technical growth.

It’s identity growth.

Interior Design constantly forces you to confront your limits.

How much responsibility you can handle.

How much uncertainty you can tolerate.

How much criticism you can absorb without collapsing.

And that has nothing to do with talent.

It has everything to do with what you believe about yourself when things don’t go perfectly.

Fear was never a dramatic moment in my career.

It was quiet.

It was the voice asking:

“Are you really good enough for this level?”

Failure was not a public disaster.

It was internal.

It was the feeling of not being ready but moving anyway.

Over time, I realized that the distance between who I was and who I wanted to become was not closed by more courses or better renders.

It was closed every time I chose not to retreat.

That’s the hidden struggle.

Not design.

But staying in the room when you feel smaller than the responsibility in front of you.

And that choice — to stay, to adapt, to learn instead of withdraw — is what creates growth.

Growing Up With “Smart Choices”

I come from a middle-class family.

Both of my parents are architects.

For them education was everything.

The message was clear: study hard, struggle, and eventually you’ll build a stable life.

So I did.

At that time, economics, medicine, law, and finance were considered the “smart” paths.

When I told my math teacher I wanted to study design, she said:

“There is no money in that profession.”

That could have become a limit.

Instead, it became fuel.

That was the first time I realized that many limits are not facts.

They are beliefs passed from one person to another.

Leaving Home at 18

At 18, I decided to study design abroad.

My family was struggling financially at the time.

If I wanted to leave, I had to win a scholarship.

That was the only way.

Nobody believed I would make it.

I was scared. I doubted myself constantly.

Failing the admission exam would have meant losing a year and disappointing everyone.

But I trusted that inner voice.

I studied. I prepared. I imagined the life I wanted. I adapted quickly.

And I got the scholarship.

Looking back, that moment taught me something essential:

Fear doesn’t disappear before action.

It disappears after.You see, people believe in results, not in intentions.

Until you move, most people assume you can’t.

I could have listened to others’ opinions.

Instead, I listened to my own belief.

The Next Limit: Politecnico di Milano

The next limit came when I decided to apply for a Master’s

in Interior Design at Politecnico di Milano.

Everyone around me said it was extremely difficult to enter. Almost impossible.

Politecnico di Milano is considered one of the top universities in the world for Design

and one of the best in Europe.

Only a small percentage of international students are accepted each year.

So my chances were even lower than I thought.

I started comparing myself to others.

I often thought, “What am I even doing here?”

“There are so many people better than me.”

I was scared as hell again.

The preparation lasted one year.

Every day, I went to the library to study and work on my application.

I applied.

I got in.

The new chapter began:

I moved to Milan without ever having seen the city before.

Now it sounds simple.

It wasn’t.

I had many negative thoughts:

What if I fail?

What if I fail in front of everyone?

What will my friends, my parents, my coworkers think?

The fear of being judged was constant.

But the fear of not trying at all was stronger.

This period taught me something important:

Our self-doubt doesn’t disappear before action.

It fades only after you face the thing you’re afraid of.

First Job: No Free Work

After graduating, I was alone in Milan.

People told me to start with unpaid internships.

For me, that wasn’t an option.

I needed to pay a rent.

So I found a paid job as an Interior Designer in the city center.

I was enthusiastic and terrified at the same time.

This phase taught me the difference between romantic ideas about creative careers and reality.

Failure became practical. Real. Immediate.

But it also made me stronger.

Working With People Changed Everything

At the beginning, I worked only on house projects,

using different software and techniques.

I was very creative at that time, but I wanted more.

Then a big shift happened.

After many months in front of a computer desk, I started to follow clients,

listen to their needs, desires, and visions for their future homes.

I dealt with real problems:

products arriving late, wrong prices, discounts not approved, wrong finishes ordered.

I worked in different languages, with high-end, wealthy, and influential people.

I didn’t always feel ready.

But I was good at building trust and listening.

Clients loved working with me.

I was young, and in many ways they trusted my honesty and openness.

Later, I realized this was my real strength.

Not software.

Not style.

But relationships.

I didn’t learn this at university.

I learned it by listening, making many mistakes, and showing up anyway,

even after being embarrassed many times.

Again, I pushed my limits.

The Project Manager Phase:

Where Reality Hits Hard

When I moved into a Project Manager role, reality hit harder.

Designing is one thing.

Managing timelines, money, suppliers, and expectations at the same time is another level.

Some days I felt completely overwhelmed.

This was the phase where failure became public and expensive.

I had to learn:

How to take decisions when nobody was happy.

How to say no.

How to have uncomfortable conversations.

How to protect projects from chaos.

And sometimes, how to protect myself from people’s emotions.

This is where growth stopped being optional.

I couldn’t hide behind “I’m just the designer” anymore.

I had to take responsibility.

And that changed me permanently.

The Corporate Shift

After years in design and project management, I wanted to understand bigger systems.

How decisions are made.

How products are positioned.

How value is communicated.

I entered the corporate world as a Sales Advisor for high-end appliances.

It wasn’t glamorous.

But it was strategic.

I learned how organizations think.

How investments are evaluated.

How perception influences buying decisions.

One year later, I was promoted and started presenting across Italy and Europe.

Often as the only woman in the room.

I was scared and happy at the same time.

But I learned that presentation is not talent.

It’s repetition.

This phase made me more strategic.

Less romantic.

More aware of how money and power move.

The Last Limit: Choosing Myself

After moving through design, project management, and corporate systems,

one thing became clear:

Nobody gives you permission.

If you wait to feel ready, you will wait forever.

Every major step I took happened while I was scared.

Interior Design taught me space.

Corporate work taught me systems.

Sales taught me psychology.

Each phase pushed my limits.

The Next Chapter:

Building a Mentorship Program

When my mother became ill and passed away, something shifted inside me.

I realized how fragile time is.

I didn’t want to postpone my purpose.

I began investing in strategy and personal growth.

I started noticing the same patterns in many women in creative careers:

Talent. Education. Potential.

And at the same time — self-doubt, invisible limits, fear around money and confidence.

I recognized myself.

And I understood that my experience wasn’t random.

It was preparation.

Building a mentorship program scared me again.

But this time, fear didn’t mean “don’t do it.”

It meant: move anyway.

Because growth never happens inside comfort.

If this story resonates with you, maybe you’re not stuck.

Maybe you’re standing in front of your next limit.

And limits can be moved.

Tamara

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If this story resonated with you and you’re building a career in Interior Design or a creative field,

my mentorship program might be a good next step for you.

It’s for women who want to grow with more clarity, confidence, and real-world skills.

You can learn more about it here.

Here is my Mentorship Program