I've dabbled in Small Basic and Python. I figured Python was a pretty useful language to learn so I made more of an effort there, but I still felt that it was the greatest challenge of my entire life. 

The more I tried, the more convinced I became that I just didn't have the brain to be a computer coder/programmer. It's the same feeling I had in my college-level calculus class, and even there I felt that, if I had actually cared, I might have been able to learn a little bit more than I eventually ended up learning.

On the plus side, struggling to learn even the most basic principles of coding was a very humbling experience. When I ended up rage-quitting, I told myself, "There's no point to trying to be something you're not. I'm not going to be a software engineer or web developer making $160,000 annually and living in Silicon Valley. That's not what my interests, abilities, or personality are leading me toward and I'm not going to live a lie. If I have to become a manual laborer making $11/hr, I'm fine with that as long as I can live by myself."

It was humbling and eye-opening to see that I couldn't do this (it truly left me feeling paralyzed and stuck at every possible turn) yet so many people, including people I previously thought I was smarter than, could do it easily, almost as if it were a natural or game-like experience to them instead of an immensely important, job-securing skill.

Older people have praised me throughout my life for "how well" I handle Microsoft Word and PowerPoint, Windows Movie Maker, web browsers like Firefox, and other software programs with easy-to-navigate graphical interfaces. To them, I'm some kind of technological god. "You can use your knowledge of *computers* to get a job making six figures!" Nope, I probably can't.

 It's liberating to recognize one's own limitations in life and to then work within those realistic parameters.

*Edited for tone and wall-of-text