The cardiology specialist on courage, focus, introverted leadership and finding her ikigai
In this instalment of our Letters to My Younger Self series, Dr. Amanda Kamatamu Mbonye reflects on a journey marked by quiet courage, demanding training, and a steady return to purpose.
Now a Cardiology Specialist Registrar in Advanced Cardiac Imaging at the world-renowned Barts Heart Centre in London, she is part of the technical team advancing the SCALE Cardiology Programme.
This programme is a partnership committed to strengthening specialised cardiac care in Uganda.
Hers is a path shaped through years of rigorous training across the UK. From internal medicine in County Durham and London hospitals to advanced cardiac CT and MRI at Barts to roles in general cardiology and medical education.
Beyond the hospital hallways, Amanda is also the founder and CEO of Revive Wellness Clinic and Studio Uganda. It is a holistic centre dedicated to preventive heart health, lifestyle modification, and early cardiovascular screening.
Her work bridges two worlds — global centres of medical excellence and the everyday realities of Ugandan patients. These have given her reflections a grounded, deeply human clarity.
For more than 15 years, she has seen detours transform into direction, risks sharpen into resilience, and uncertainty deepen into calling. Her letter is that rare blend of professional insight and personal truth.
It is a reminder that even the most accomplished journeys begin with hesitation, self-doubt, and a quiet hope that the next step will make sense in time.
And yet, for all the structure her career now seems to carry, the path that led Amanda here was anything but linear. Behind the precision of her clinical work were years of uncertainty, pressure, and quiet self-questioning.
There were moments when the expectations of training collided with the emotional weight of leaving home, starting over, or standing out in unfamiliar environments.
Those early years were filled with hesitation as much as ambition, and with detours that only later revealed their purpose. It is from that place of honesty, of remembering what it felt like to be unsure, that she writes to her younger self.
Lessons I would tell my younger self
Amanda begins by speaking to the younger woman she once was, ambitious, hopeful, but not always sure of her footing.
“You were ambitious but not always confident.”
“You longed to return home but were uncertain about what awaited you when you did.”
She recalls the heavy pressure to move quickly and fit expectations.
“There was pressure—so much of it—to move fast, to prove yourself.”
But experience softened this urgency.
“If I could whisper in your ear, I would say, “Take your time.”
“Every path, even the ones that look like detours, has its own lessons.”
“For fifteen years now, I’ve seen detours transform into stepping stones.”
“Everything will work out well.”
Mistakes made along the way
The younger Dr. Mbonye tried too hard to follow the traditional route to success.
“You thought you had to follow the traditional path in training, as though it were the only route to success.”
And she often stretched herself too thin.
“You also tried to do everything at once—as if opportunities would vanish if you did not grasp them immediately.”
The cost?
“In your rush, you sometimes dropped the ball or delivered less than you could.”
From that exhaustion grew a new philosophy.
“That is why today, I value focus.”
“I even took a sabbatical to devote myself fully to one thing at a time.”
Her message to her younger self is gentle but firm: “You don’t have to rush. The opportunities will not fleet. What matters is the care you give to each endeavour.”
Risks taken, and what they taught her
Her greatest risk was also her greatest teacher: The greatest risk was starting a clinic while still in training.
“It stretched me, tested me, and taught me what it really means to carry responsibility.”
Choosing cardiology was another leap into difficulty.
“It was intense, competitive, and demanded years of sacrifice in one of Europe’s busiest teaching hospitals.”
“I could have chosen an easier path—public health, perhaps, or a steady UN job with a nine-to-five lifestyle.”
“But I didn’t. And now, I am grateful.”
Running a wellness clinic remotely, alongside business partner and sister, Philippa, brought its own complications.
“We underestimated the complexity of managing a business from afar.”
Letters to My Younger Self: What Uganda’s CEOs and Professionals Wish They Knew at the StartYet the affirmation from patients reinforced their purpose.
“The validation we’ve received from clients has kept us going.”
She looks back at all these risks with no bitterness.
“I do not regret these risks. They carved out the path I now walk.”
The meaning of success
Amanda’s definition of success is poetic, grounded, and deeply human.
“Success, for me, is the joy of creating,” she writes. The quiet satisfaction of taking what she loves, shaping it into something real, and offering it in ways that serve others.
Over the years, she has learned that true success sits at the intersection of joy, impact, and sustenance.
She calls that harmony her ikigai; the place where passion aligns with purpose, and where the work that fulfils her is also the work that nourishes her and those she serves.
Editor’s Note: Ikigai is a Japanese concept that translates to “a reason for being” or simply “what makes life worth living.” It encompasses the everyday joys and values that provide an individual with a sense of purpose and fulfillment, from hobbies and relationships to one’s career or daily rituals.
On leadership, especially as an introvert
A decade ago, leadership made her uncomfortable.
“You were an introvert in a world that seemed to reward extroversion.”
“Imposter syndrome sat heavily on your shoulders.”
Everything changed when a mentor gave her Susan Cain’s Quiet.
“It revealed the strength of introverts, the quiet power that often shapes the world.”
Her leadership shifted completely.
“You came to realise that leadership doesn’t have to be loud.”
“It can be steady, firm, and confident without raising its voice.”
“Today, you lead not in spite of your introversion, but because of it.”
On life & leadership now
Reflection has become central to her identity.
“I do not want life to pass unnoticed; I pause to celebrate the good and to understand my role in the bad.”
Her leadership, too, has deepened with empathy.
“A struggling team member is not always lazy—they may be carrying unseen burdens.”
“So I lead with empathy, with presence, with a nurturing spirit that allows others to flourish.”
“Productivity is not demanded—it is enabled.”
On legacy, the influence that endures
Amanda’s hopes for how she will be remembered are refreshingly simple.
“What do I hope to be remembered for? Not for titles or accolades, but for influence of a different kind.”
She lists the legacy she wishes to leave behind: “I hope my family, my friends, my colleagues will remember me as someone they could come to.”
“Someone with whom they could have a meaningful conversation.”
“Someone whose presence made a difference.”
The quiet lessons of a life examined
In Amanda’s honest opinion, the lesson that takes the longest to understand is that confidence grows from living, not from performing.
It emerges slowly, through risks taken, mistakes survived, and the courage to admit when you need to pause.
She realises, only with time, that the detours she once feared were actually the moments that shaped her most.
It is the sabbatical that restored her focus, the demanding years of training that built her resilience, and the inner permission she finally granted herself to move at a pace that honours both ambition and well-being.
She learns to trust the quiet instincts she once dismissed, the reflective pauses that help her make sense of both the joy and the discomfort of her journey.
And with that maturity comes a deeper truth: the real mark of a life well lived is not the prestige of a role, but the impact of one’s presence.
Amanda comes to understand that leadership is not about being loud; it is about being empathetic, steady, and nurturing.
It is the choice to see people beyond their performance and to offer compassion where judgment once stood. Reflection becomes her grounding, ikigai her compass, and legacy her gentle hope.
That those who cross her path will remember her not for titles or accolades, but for the sense of calm, clarity, and dignity she brought into their lives.
In the end, she knows that a meaningful life is measured not by how quickly one advances, but by how deeply one connects, serves, and becomes.
