Chaos Theory Made Me a TPM
Chaos theory isn’t just for physicists—it’s in our inbox, our conversations, and our morning coffee.
Have you ever had one of those moments where you look back and think—wait, that’s when everything changed?
I had one of those not too long ago. It wasn’t during a life-altering meeting. Or a grand, dramatic decision. It was a random morning. I tied my shoelaces and went out for a run. No plan, no playlist, no "new me" declarations. Just a quiet decision to do something other than strength training.
That run didn’t just clear my head. It changed the way I saw myself. And in many ways, it gave me the mental strength to cope with the challenges of my new role—moving from QA to a Technical Program Manager. A move I used to doubt if I could really pull off.
The Science Behind the Magic (but let’s keep it simple)
The Butterfly Effect comes from chaos theory—it’s this idea that small things can have huge ripple effects. Like a butterfly flapping its wings in one part of the world possibly triggering a tornado somewhere else. Extreme? Sure. But if you think about it, life is kind of like that.
Tiny variables. Unpredictable systems. One small shift—and suddenly, you're on a completely different path.
That one morning run? It gave me resilience. A clearer head. A little discipline. And the surprising realisation that showing up for myself—even in small ways translates directly into how I show up at work, in relationships, in life.
Moving into a new role wasn’t an overnight decision. It was a slow build—almost like training for a long-distance run. Every day, I did something uncomfortable:
Sat in meetings that felt intimidating.
Asked questions I feared were “too basic.”
Took the leap on projects where I had to lead without always knowing the answers.
And weirdly, it was that run—those quiet, solo miles—that reminded me I could do hard things. That consistency mattered more than confidence. That starting small wasn’t a flaw—it was the secret.
Chaos Isn’t the Villain. It’s the Plot Twist.
Here’s what I’ve realised: the more we try to control everything, the more frustrated we get when life doesn’t obey. And honestly, it rarely does. But chaos doesn’t have to mean disorder—it can mean movement. Momentum.
So maybe the goal isn’t to fight the chaos, but to flow with it. To stay open to the unexpected. To not underestimate how today’s seemingly boring choices can shape a completely different version of us a year from now.
There’s something powerful about momentum. Once you start—once you really start—it becomes addictive. You stop craving the comfort of the past because you’ve seen what you’re capable of building.
That’s where I am now.
Running towards something.
With clarity.
With chaos.
And without looking back.