“ My parents crossed an ocean for me, and I did everything right — the degree, the job, the money home every month. My father still compares me to cousins who did more. I am tired in a way sleep does not fix. ”
I grew up hearing that when something fails, I should look for the reason in myself: What did I do wrong? What can I improve? That can be useful, but it can also become misleading. It can make every outcome feel like evidence about who you are. I remembered this because of a difficult period at a previous company. A new manager seemed determined to diminish me. At the time, I kept asking myself what I had done wrong. I assumed that if I worked hard, treated everyone well, and was capable, people would like me. But the situation was more complicated. I was one of the strongest engineers in the organization, and senior leaders already knew and trusted me. The new manager was also trying to establish authority and prove their technical leadership. Looking back, I can see that the conflict was not simply a performance problem or a failure on my part. I was young then, and eventually I decided to leave. Now I think the important thing is not to treat yourself as the dominating factor in everything that happens. The world is made of many people and many conditions, and you are only one of them. That applies to success as well as failure. When you succeed or lose, it is not just you. Remembering that makes life easier—and most of the time, better—because you do not torture yourself trying to fix what was never yours alone to control.
I don’t think one thing failing should define my whole self. In meetings, I used to say an idea, have someone reject it, and get angry. I would stop listening to the opinions being offered and insist that I was right. Then I would end up unable to get down from the position I had put myself in. After being left in that position many times, I suddenly began to reflect. If something fails, I think I need to look back at where the problem was and why I handled it that way. Then, if something similar happens again, I can remember. Now I tend to listen first. I am still learning to separate the failure of an idea, or the way I handled a moment, from the failure of myself.
In 2018, I had some money and thought, I should invest this. I found a small plaza in another city and bought it for about a million dollars. The math seemed simple: if I rented it out for ten years, I would get the money back. I didn’t think too much beyond that. Then the fundamental problems appeared—the foundation, the roof, things that needed money straight out of my pocket. The pandemic made everything worse. One of the two restaurants kept paying, though with reduced rent. The other closed. I had a well-paying job at the time, so I used my own money to keep paying the loan. I tried to sell in 2022 or 2023. When I counted everything—the repairs, the money I put in, the income, and the sale—I was down somewhere around twenty to thirty thousand dollars. That was the direct loss. There was also the indirect loss: I had sold a lot of company stock to keep the property going, and that stock rose afterward. That part still stings. People can call it a win because I didn’t lose more. I can call it that too. But it was still torturing. My takeaway is that I don’t want to touch property again. It isn’t liquid, and you can’t always turn it into cash when you need to. When this week’s topic came up, I immediately remembered that plaza—and the feeling of having given so much just to get out.
Two years ago, I was bored with my job and looking for another way forward. I had a choice between returning home for a very good job and staying where I was to start a company. Just before I packed everything up, I changed my mind. I stayed and founded a startup. At first, I wanted to build an AI mental-health product. Then, partly because of other people's opinions and partly because I doubted whether I understood the patients, we moved toward social products. I stopped those projects after realizing something that took me a long time to admit: the company has to build something my soul actually echoes with, not something that only makes sense to other people. By then, we had raised money, opened the company, spent most of it, and carried a lot of pressure from investors. The constant changes exhausted the team. Now we have a product under development that feels much more like me. I have decided to stay with this direction until the company closes, whether it succeeds or fails. I am not going to keep changing it. That decision has not made me feel proud yet. I still think it is not enough. I keep wondering whether I need to work harder or become more open-minded, but I do not know what it takes to reach a better stage, and I cannot see that stage yet. The pressure follows me everywhere. I cannot remember the last day I took off.
There was a period when my work was extremely busy, and I felt completely worn down. I had headaches every day. I faced challenge after challenge, often figuring things out while doing them, and it was very painful when something was beyond my abilities. I gritted my teeth and kept going, but I became slower. My body and mind were under enormous pressure. I am in a similar situation now. I still have not found a real solution, but I cannot simply leave because the pressures of life do not allow it. What I fear is not having enough money to support the rest of my life. “Enough” feels like something I may never reach. Whether it will come depends on having sufficient funds—but isn’t that a cycle? I am confused now. I can see it a little, but I do not know how to get out.
