By the time Natalie Desty launched STEM Returners, a Hampshire-based company that helps Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics (STEM) professionals restart their careers, she already knew the numbers. The ones that haunt start-ups – 60% fail within the first three years – and the ones that haunt people: the gender, age and racial bias that prevents thousands from re-entering the workforce after a career break.

“I knew I had a good idea, and that it could work,” she reflects, “but knowing how to get it off the ground was a big challenge.” The idea was deceptively simple: bridge the gaping chasm in the STEM industries where talent was being lost not for lack of ability, but because the system refused to look beyond a CV gap. With the support of industry giants like Rolls-Royce, BAE Systems, and Leonardo UK, Desty built a programme that offered placement opportunities to people who’d been sidelined. But first, she had to take a leap herself.

“How could I leave a salary? What if it didn’t work?” The doubt, she says, wasn’t just financial. “I had read the stats of businesses not working out, which played into my impostor syndrome. In reality, it didn’t stop me, but it definitely delayed me from making the jump.”

So she planned. She tested. She leaned into a small working group who gave her a platform to pilot the idea. “I was able to run a pilot with this group before I took it to market, so I could test the theory and prove the concept. Being successful in those early pilots gave me the confidence I needed to make my idea a real business.”

Confidence, perhaps, is the currency most in demand when it comes to returning to work. The STEM Returners Index—the organisation’s flagship research report—has become an unflinching mirror to the industry’s prejudices. Its findings show what Desty has long suspected: systemic recruitment bias is the main barrier to re-entry for thousands of qualified professionals. “The bias is real,” she says, “but so is the talent.”

It’s a fight that requires not just belief in an idea, but stamina. Looking back, she is candid about the turbulence. “I wish I had sought out a bit more advice and mentorship to help me navigate some of the challenges of running your own business. I learned a lot very quickly, but usually through trial and error.” She pauses. “I don’t shy away from learning by doing, but I gave myself unnecessary problems.”

There is no pretence here—no illusion of overnight success or frictionless growth. STEM Returners wasn’t conjured from nothing; it was carved out of stubbornness and spreadsheets, late nights and pilot studies, and a clear-eyed belief in people. And perhaps, that’s why her advice to future founders rings so true: “If you have an idea that you can make into a business, go for it. I speak to so many people who have brilliant ideas but are stuck in taking those first steps.”

And what about failure? She doesn’t flinch: “Failure is part of the journey. Embrace it, learn from it, but never stop doing it.”

Because in the end, a returner’s journey back to work isn’t so different from a founder’s leap into the unknown. Both require a kind of quiet bravery. Both are a return—to faith, to purpose, to something worth building.