My bones were practically empty. In 2022, I was told that my body was actively
attacking my bone marrow and that a stem cell transplant was the only cure. When my
only sister was found to be a match (25% chance), I chose life. What I did not
anticipate was that living would require rebirthing myself, cell by cell, from the
inside out.
Initially, recovery involved isolating myself from people and the outside world.
Loved ones became synonymous with germs. I questioned what it meant to be alive. As
my physical body recovered, a new and unfamiliar truth emerged - I did not want to
resume life as it was. Phrases like “we need to get you back to life” felt like
being asked to try on misfit clothes. Pouring hours into a 9-5 job were emptying my
soul. I felt devoid of time to cultivate life’s nutrients of connection and joy. It
felt like the world wanted me to accept its dysfunction and exert myself to make up
for how poorly it is designed for vulnerable people.
After many years of discombobulation, I committed myself to creating a life full of
nourishment and joy.
In 2023, I left my role as a design executive before figuring out my next steps. Every
few years, when growth slows, I find that I need a change. I had been through several
transitions in my career across startups and big tech, even taking time off at times
to explore my own ventures. To expand beyond my comfort zone, I had taken many
leaps—though none that impacted both my professional and personal life at the same
time.
Ongoing existential and relational challenges brought on by new motherhood had been
difficult for a few years, adding to the uncertainty. While I was arguably successful
and seemed happy, the person I felt on the inside wasn’t fully reflected in the world.
My 21-year partnership ended. My longtime coach passed away. I had created a life
based on internalized expectations, partly shaped by being a first-generation
immigrant, but the life I had known for decades no longer existed.
To rebuild a life true to me, I had to figure out what I wanted. But wanting was
foreign when other voices were silent—I had to learn to hear my own voice.