Certifications are more than a line on a résumé. They are markers of determination, persistence, and the willingness to push beyond comfort zones. When I decided to pursue the CompTIA Linux+ certification, it wasn’t just about proving a skill—it was about transforming my understanding of Linux from basic survival to confident fluency.

The Motivation Behind the Decision

My relationship with Linux was once superficial. I could fumble through terminal commands and barely navigate the file system, but the depth and nuance of a real Linux environment remained elusive. Every time I looked at system logs or tried configuring network services, I felt like I was reading a foreign language.

I had been working in IT support for a while, and increasingly, Linux knowledge was becoming not just useful but essential. I wanted to be more than someone who followed tutorials—I wanted to truly understand how Linux functioned under the hood. That desire pushed me to look into certification options.

CompTIA Linux+ caught my eye for several reasons. It was vendor-neutral, which meant I wouldn’t be tied to Red Hat, Ubuntu, or any particular flavor. It also had no formal prerequisites, unlike some advanced-level certs that required prior experience. The exam’s focus on real-world administrative tasks made it especially attractive for someone like me, who wanted both theoretical knowledge and practical competency.

Understanding What I Signed Up For

Before jumping into study materials, I made it a priority to understand what the Linux+ exam actually entailed. I visited the CompTIA website and read every word of the exam objectives. It became immediately clear that this wasn’t an exam I could pass by rote memorization. It expected me to use Linux in the way an administrator would: managing users, configuring services, securing the system, and even dealing with containers and cloud infrastructure.

The exam allowed for a maximum of 90 questions in 90 minutes, including both multiple-choice questions and performance-based tasks. That meant I wouldn’t just be picking the right answer—I would be demonstrating that I knew how to apply what I had learned. That realization shaped everything that came next.

Setting a Realistic Timeline

I wasn’t a full-time student. I had a full-time job, a family, and the usual life obligations. So I decided to give myself a reasonable study window—twelve weeks. Three months felt like enough time to dive deeply into the material without rushing, while also keeping me accountable to a schedule.

Each week, I dedicated about ninety minutes a day on weekdays to study, reserving weekends for longer sessions of three to four hours. The goal wasn’t just to go through the content—it was to absorb it, to wrestle with it, to practice until I could complete tasks confidently and instinctively.

Choosing the Right Materials

With my timeline in place, I needed to choose the tools that would get me across the finish line. I started with CompTIA’s official study guide. Though a bit dry at times, it provided the structure and breadth I needed. Every page was aligned with the exam objectives, which gave me the peace of mind that I wasn’t wasting time on irrelevant topics.

To supplement the book, I turned to online video instruction. Jason Dion’s Linux+ course was particularly helpful. His clear explanations, practical demonstrations, and structured modules made even the more obscure topics feel approachable. Watching someone configure services, troubleshoot problems, or manipulate file permissions made the learning experience much more tangible than reading alone.

One of the most impactful decisions I made was to set up virtual machines on my laptop. I installed multiple distributions, including Ubuntu Server and CentOS. I wanted to expose myself to the differences in package managers and system configurations. Working in a live environment, making mistakes, and fixing them taught me more than any chapter in a book could. It gave me confidence that I could function in a real Linux setting.

Organizing My Learning

Instead of haphazardly jumping from topic to topic, I broke the content down into thematic areas. I began with system architecture and the boot process. Understanding how Linux starts up, the role of the kernel, and the difference between BIOS and UEFI gave me a solid foundation.

Next, I moved on to package management. This area was especially tricky because the tools differ between distributions. Learning how to use apt and dnf effectively required not just reading commands, but experimenting with them. I broke my system a few times and had to fix it, which was frustrating in the moment but ultimately invaluable.

As I progressed, I tackled filesystems, permissions, and directory structures. I practiced manipulating file ownership and access rights until it became second nature. Bash scripting followed. Writing scripts felt overwhelming at first, but by creating simple automation tools—like a backup script or a system update notifier—I slowly began to internalize how variables, loops, and conditionals worked.

Networking came next, along with user and group management. Here, things became more complex. Configuring SSH, editing network interfaces, and managing firewall rules required me to think like an administrator responsible for uptime and security.

Finally, I studied security practices and introductory cloud concepts. This was an area I hadn’t expected to see on the exam, but it reflected the evolution of Linux into a foundational component of the cloud-native world. Learning how Linux operates in containerized environments, and how to harden it against threats, gave me a glimpse into what modern infrastructure looks like.

The Role of Active Recall

One thing I learned through this process was that passive review was not enough. Reading and watching videos helped me understand concepts initially, but I needed a way to retain that information. That’s where active recall came in.

Instead of simply re-reading chapters, I began to quiz myself. After finishing a topic, I would close the book and try to explain it in my own words. I would ask myself questions like, “What is the purpose of the /etc/fstab file?” or “How would I reset a forgotten root password from the GRUB menu?” These mental drills helped me identify gaps in my knowledge and forced me to internalize the material.

To support this approach, I also used flashcards. I made physical cards and reviewed them during my commute or breaks at work. It was old-school but effective. Writing the cards by hand helped me reinforce key commands and concepts.

Building Confidence Through Practice

By the end of the second month, I began to feel the shift from confusion to clarity. Commands that once felt foreign were becoming part of my mental toolkit. I could navigate the file system quickly, manage services with confidence, and troubleshoot basic issues without panic.

Still, I didn’t want to become complacent. I began to take timed practice exams to simulate the real test experience. These exams highlighted my weak areas—especially in security and cloud topics—and gave me a sense of how quickly I needed to think. The performance-based questions were the most challenging. They required multitasking, critical thinking, and precise execution. But they also gave me the most confidence because they proved that I could perform under pressure.

Overcoming Burnout

At some point in every long-term project, motivation dips. Around week nine, I hit that wall. Studying felt repetitive, and I began to question whether I was making progress. I knew that burnout was a real threat, so I gave myself permission to pause.

I took two days off completely—no flashcards, no videos, no terminal sessions. When I returned, I approached the material with fresh eyes. I changed up my routine, started studying in a different location, and mixed in new resources to keep things interesting. That small break helped recharge my mental batteries and reminded me why I started this journey in the first place.

Reflection at the Midway Point

As I neared the final month of preparation, I paused to reflect on how far I had come. I remembered the uncertainty I felt when I first started—how even basic commands felt intimidating. Now, I could write scripts, configure user permissions, and set up a basic web server without relying on a tutorial.

More than anything, I felt empowered. Studying for the Linux+ exam had already changed how I approached problems at work. I began to troubleshoot more confidently, automate routine tasks, and even assist colleagues with their Linux issues. I was no longer guessing—I was applying knowledge with purpose.

In this series, I’ll detail how I tackled the final phase of preparation: refining my weaknesses, increasing my speed, and ensuring I was ready for the performance-based challenges. I’ll also share my mental strategies for exam day and the resources that proved most useful in those final weeks.

This journey wasn’t easy, but it was worth every hour I invested. Whether you’re preparing for the same exam or simply looking to strengthen your Linux skills, I hope this story offers some inspiration—and a reminder that transformation is possible when you commit to the process.

 I walked through the beginnings of my Linux+ journey—the motivations, the materials, the structure I followed. By the two-month mark, I was building confidence, yet I knew I had not reached the summit. The final stretch of exam prep was where refinement, reinforcement, and repetition became my mantra.

Sharpening the Blade: Identifying Weaknesses

I had covered all the exam objectives at least once by week eight. But simply reading and practicing once wasn’t enough. My next task was to analyze where I was weakest and drill into those areas. To do this, I took another full-length practice exam, then graded each objective area on a self-created performance scale.

One thing became clear: while I was comfortable with file permissions and shell scripting, I still struggled with security hardening, SELinux configurations, and certain system services like cron and systemd timers. Networking topics also remained shaky. I could ping and trace routes, but advanced configurations involving DHCP clients, firewalls, and port-based service management required deeper focus.

So I broke up the final month into themed weeks. One week I focused exclusively on system security. The next, on networking. Then came a week of performance-based task rehearsal, which included user and group management, file search utilities, and log file interpretation. I treated each domain like its own mini-exam and pushed myself to treat these rehearsals with the seriousness of the real test.

Deep Practice: The Performance-Based Simulation

Unlike traditional multiple-choice exams, the Linux+ certification features what CompTIA refers to as “performance-based questions” (PBQs). These aren’t theoretical. They ask you to do something—a real-world task in a simulated Linux environment. That could mean creating a user with specific permissions, editing configuration files, or even identifying a malfunctioning process from log output.

To get better at PBQs, I began giving myself mini-labs. I’d spin up a fresh VM and try to replicate a task entirely from memory. One challenge I created was setting up a simple FTP server from scratch, configuring it to accept anonymous access while blocking write permissions. Another task involved creating a backup script using tar and scheduling it with cron. These mini-projects brought theory to life.

I also began using a countdown timer while working through these exercises. Time pressure changed everything. It forced me to not just understand the task, but to complete it efficiently. That rhythm—read, act, verify, move on—mirrored the demands of the actual exam. Slowly, I began to think more like a system administrator, less like a student.

Exam Strategy: Thinking Like a Tester

Studying content is one thing, but developing an actual strategy for taking the exam is another. I began to prepare myself mentally and logistically for what the real exam experience would entail.

First, I learned the structure of the test day. The Linux+ exam typically begins with performance-based questions and then shifts into multiple-choice. Because PBQs require more time and focus, I resolved to take a deep breath before diving in and to read every instruction twice. Skimming could lead to missing crucial constraints.

For multiple-choice sections, I practiced the art of elimination. If I didn’t know the correct answer immediately, I worked backwards by ruling out the clearly wrong choices. This method often left me with a fifty-fifty decision, where an educated guess had a higher probability of success. I also practiced flagging questions I wasn’t sure about so I could revisit them at the end without losing momentum.

Another strategic decision I made was to spend no more than 90 seconds on any multiple-choice question. If I went over, it meant I was overanalyzing or lacked the knowledge. Lingering too long could cost me other easy points later on.

Reinforcing Retention

In the final three weeks, I shifted to reinforcement mode. Every day began with a quick review of flashcards. I grouped them by domain: file systems, networking, scripting, users and groups, services, and security. I stopped adding new flashcards at this point—only reviewed existing ones to sharpen recall.

I also began revisiting earlier topics in what I called “spiral reviews.” Instead of learning linearly, I returned to areas I had studied a month prior. This helped me realize how much I had retained—and more importantly, what I had forgotten. Often, the repetition revealed new layers of understanding I had missed the first time.

One tool I used during this phase was writing “explain like I’m teaching” paragraphs. I’d take a topic like the Linux boot process and try to write a plain-language explanation as if I were training a new hire. Doing this forced me to internalize complex concepts and express them with clarity—a skill that translated directly into confidence during the exam.

Managing Exam Anxiety

As test day approached, anxiety crept in. There was a part of me that feared I’d open the exam and draw a blank, or that performance-based questions would ask something I’d never seen. To counter this, I reminded myself that the exam was a measure of competence, not perfection.

I started visualizing success. Each night before sleeping, I mentally walked through a calm, composed test scenario. I visualized logging in, reading each question, handling PBQs methodically, and using logic for unknown answers. I practiced breathing exercises to keep my heart rate down during study sessions. These small habits helped rewire my response to stress.

I also made sure my test logistics were smooth. I scheduled my exam for a weekday morning when I felt most alert. I visited the test center in advance to know exactly where it was, and I made a checklist of what to bring: ID, confirmation email, and confidence.

Final Review Sessions

In the last week, I didn’t learn anything new. That might sound strange, but I firmly believe that cramming new content at the eleventh hour increases confusion. Instead, I focused on mastering what I already knew.

I re-watched high-yield video summaries. I ran through a final mock exam at the same hour as my scheduled test, simulating the timing and pressure. I repeated three performance-based tasks without peeking at notes: creating a new user with specific permissions, configuring a firewall rule, and scheduling a job with cron.

On the day before the test, I stopped all studying by mid-afternoon. I went for a long walk, ate well, and watched a movie to distract myself. I knew my brain needed rest more than reinforcement.

The Night Before

The night before the exam, I laid everything out: ID, clothes, water bottle, and the address of the test center. I checked in on my own self-talk. Rather than think, “What if I fail?” I told myself, “I’ve prepared with intention. I’m ready.”

I slept surprisingly well. No frantic mental rehearsals, no anxious awakenings. I had done the work, and I trusted that preparation would carry me through.

Exam Day

I woke early, skipped caffeine to avoid jitteriness, and ate a light breakfast. I arrived at the test center 30 minutes ahead of schedule. After check-in and security screening, I was led to a terminal in a quiet, temperature-controlled room.

The exam began with a short tutorial explaining how to use the interface. Then the real questions began.

The first screen was a performance-based task. My pulse quickened, but I reminded myself to breathe and read the task carefully. It required creating users with specific group assignments and file permissions. Fortunately, it mirrored a practice task I had done the week before.

One by one, the PBQs appeared. They weren’t impossible, but they demanded attention to detail. I double-checked commands, verified outputs, and moved on with resolve.

Then came the multiple-choice section. Some questions were straightforward; others were nuanced. I flagged four for later review. Some were tricky not because they were hard, but because the phrasing was deliberately complex. I kept my pace steady, trusting that I’d encounter easier ones along the way.

After 70 minutes, I had completed every question. I used the remaining time to revisit the flagged items. I changed one answer after closer review, left the others unchanged. Finally, I hit submit.

A short survey followed, then the screen went blank. My heart pounded.

And then—“Congratulations.”

After the Storm

Seeing that message was like watching a curtain fall on a long, intense performance. Relief, pride, exhaustion—all at once. I had passed.

As I walked out of the test center, I realized something profound. Yes, I had passed the CompTIA Linux+ exam. But the greater victory was how much I had changed. I was no longer intimidated by Linux systems. I had developed not just knowledge, but intuition and poise.

By the time I walked out of the test center with a passing score on the CompTIA Linux+ exam, I thought the hard part was over. In some ways, it was. But the days and weeks that followed gave me space to reflect—not only on how I passed the exam, but also on how it reshaped my confidence, career outlook, and approach to learning.

This final part of the series is a retrospective. I’ll share what happened after the certification, what I’d do differently, and what you might consider if you’re preparing for Linux+ or thinking about whether it’s worth your time.

Walking Taller: Immediate Aftermath and Personal Growth

Passing the exam didn’t come with confetti or a marching band, but I felt different immediately. I walked taller—not because I had a new credential to add to my résumé, but because I had conquered something I once considered insurmountable.

There’s something transformative about wrestling with a complex subject and not quitting. In the early weeks of preparation, Linux was like a foreign land. By the end, I could navigate its landscape with a kind of quiet familiarity. That change in internal posture—from hesitance to competence—was perhaps the most valuable reward.

How the Certification Opened Doors

Within a month of passing the exam, the first signs of career progress began to surface. I updated my résumé, LinkedIn profile, and job site profiles with the Linux+ credential. Recruiters who previously ignored my messages started responding. It was clear that the certification added credibility—especially for roles involving cloud operations, cybersecurity, or system administration.

More importantly, during job interviews, I could speak Linux. Not just regurgitate theory, but explain how I would handle real-world scenarios. One interviewer asked how I would troubleshoot a network service that wouldn’t start on boot. Thanks to my PBQ training, I rattled off several steps involving logs, systemd, and firewall rules—all with calm assurance.

The certification wasn’t a golden ticket, but it signaled seriousness. It showed that I had put in the work to understand Linux—not just dabble in it. I eventually landed a position as a junior DevOps engineer at a midsize company. My Linux+ journey gave me the edge in a crowded field of applicants.

What I Would Do Differently

While the outcome was positive, I can now look back and see a few things I would do differently if I had to start over. Hopefully, these insights can help you avoid some of the missteps I encountered.

1. Start Practicing Earlier

I spent too much time in the early weeks just reading. The moment you start reading about permissions, you should jump into a shell and create some files and test permissions. Reading is passive; Linux is learned by doing.

2. Don’t Ignore SELinux

Many learners skip over Security-Enhanced Linux because it’s arcane and intimidating. I was one of them—until I got a PBQ involving SELinux contexts. Understanding SELinux at a conceptual level—not just the commands, but the why behind it—can be the difference between passing and panicking.

3. Track Your Progress More Deliberately

I used to tell myself, “Yeah, I think I understand that.” But vague confidence is risky. What helped late in the process was grading myself objectively across domains. If I had done this earlier, I would have corrected weak spots much sooner.

4. Practice Under Pressure

Simulated testing conditions made a major difference in the last month. I wish I had started this sooner. Even basic exercises feel more challenging when a timer is counting down. Pressure testing builds mental endurance and reduces surprises on test day.

My Most Trusted Resources

A lot of people ask what tools or platforms I found most valuable. Here’s what actually helped:

• Official CompTIA Linux+ Objectives – This was my blueprint. I didn’t study anything that wasn’t explicitly listed in the exam objectives.

• YouTube Channels – Several Linux educators post walkthroughs, live shell demos, and Q&A sessions. Watching others navigate a terminal helped me pick up nuance and command combinations I wouldn’t have discovered on my own.

• Virtual Machines (VMs) – Using tools like VirtualBox with Ubuntu, CentOS, and Debian images allowed me to replicate real-world scenarios. If you’re not hands-on, you’re not really learning Linux.

• Flashcards – For commands, flags, and key configuration file paths, flashcards were a godsend. I reviewed them daily during my commute or lunch break.

The Real-World Value of What I Learned

Some people ask whether the Linux+ exam teaches you things you’ll actually use on the job—or if it’s mostly academic. My answer? It absolutely reflects real-world knowledge. Here’s how:

• Service management: Understanding systemd, journalctl, and service status is crucial in most enterprise environments. This wasn’t just exam fodder—it was foundational knowledge I now use weekly.

• User and group management: Assigning permissions correctly is essential for security. This skill directly impacted how I configured internal tools at my job.

• Shell scripting: Writing small automation scripts not only helps reduce manual labor, but also shows initiative at work. My boss was impressed when I created a simple backup script as part of my onboarding project.

The exam taught me not just what to do, but how to think. It forced me to ask better questions: Why isn’t this working? What’s the root cause? What logs can I check? That level of thinking is what separates a checkbox-certification holder from a true practitioner.

The Intangibles: What You Really Gain

Besides job opportunities and technical knowledge, the Linux+ journey gifted me several intangibles that no multiple-choice test could measure.

1. Grit

The Linux+ exam isn’t impossibly hard, but it requires real persistence. Especially when things don’t work as expected on the command line—and trust me, they often don’t. Learning to push through frustration was a personal milestone.

2. Humility

You don’t “master” Linux. You simply become less lost. The OS is vast, evolving, and complex. Getting comfortable with ambiguity and continuous learning was humbling—and healthy.

3. Focus

Preparing for the exam forced me to manage time better, set priorities, and cut out distractions. That discipline bled into other areas of my life, from fitness to finance. Oddly, prepping for Linux+ helped me grow up a bit.

Would I Recommend Linux+?

If you’re wondering whether the CompTIA Linux+ exam is worth pursuing, here’s my honest take:

Yes, if:

• You want to validate your Linux skills for employment purposes.

• You are early in your IT career and want to specialize.

• You enjoy hands-on systems work and want a strong foundation in command-line operations.

• You’re planning to go into cybersecurity, DevOps, or systems administration.

Maybe not, if:

• You’re already deep into a Red Hat or Debian-based certification path (RHCSA or LPIC may offer more targeted advancement).

• You’re not interested in systems-level work or prefer development over operations.

• You struggle with self-paced learning or dislike command-line environments.

The exam is rigorous, but fair. It teaches valuable skills, but it demands consistent effort. If you’re willing to put in the work, the reward is not just a credential—it’s transformation.

Final Thoughts: 

When people ask me how I passed the CompTIA Linux+ exam, I often say: “Slowly. With struggle. And eventually, with skill.”

What made the biggest difference wasn’t my background or intelligence. It was the decision to persist. I learned that you don’t need to be an expert to start—you need to start to become one.

So if you’re standing at the base of the Linux+ mountain, unsure whether to begin, let me assure you: the climb is worth it. You’ll gain more than a certificate. You’ll gain confidence, clarity, and an entirely new way of seeing the systems that power the world.