My Fucking Feelings
I get in my own way a lot
Warning: A little bit of bitching and complaining. Just a tad. What? I’m human.
It’s 6:01 am on a Saturday.
I have two hours to gather my thoughts before we inhale a couple of breakfast burritos sprinkled with some bro-down conversations about life and love and a few Would you rather… questions I’m sure.
Then we will ride down to a motorcycle show in the middle of nowhere called Born Free. There will be a sea of bikes, a wall of death, and funnel cakes which I will do my best to avoid.
I hope today calms me.
I need it.
Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.
Okay, so there’s been a lot on my mind these days. I’ve been having some anxiety and internal stirs that’s been bringing up residue from the past. If I’ve learned anything about life, it’s that it’s a circle. History repeats itself. But if you’ve changed, you can break that loop and stop living in yesterday. Write a new story. Make a left at the fork. And that’s what I’ve been trying to do. For the last ten years.
Four things that are bringing shit up for me.
- I have to turn in a book in a few months.
Yes, I know I should reframe that to I GET to turn a book in… But here’s the thing. “I Used To Be A Miserable Fuck” wrote itself. I swear, I don’t even remember writing it. And the problem with I don’t even remember experiences is they rarely come twice in a row. Unless we’re talking about sexual experiences in our twenties. So this means I will most likely remember writing this one, every second of it. Like giving birth.
On top of that, this book is different. It’s part memoir and part self-betterment. I guess you can say it’s my Eat Pray Love, meets barbells, motorcycles, and donuts. It’s about empowering singlehood and challenging the lie we have all been fed since we could drive: You have to be with someone in order to be happy. The truth is Barbie didn’t need Ken. The world gave her a man and a house. All she needed was that fucking convertible Vette.
Anyway, every book I write needs to be its own thing. I don’t want to just jump on the carousel of self-help books because I got another ticket into the park. I want to create art. Not templates. And that process is terrifying. You have to take risks and put yourself in a space that makes you constantly question yourself and vision. You have to stand alone sometimes, with a smile. But that smile can’t be forced. And that’s the hard part. It has to come from a place of truth, a knowing that your story has brought you here and you have what it takes.
I hope one day that smile is a shit-eating grin.
Today it’s a crooked half smile.
But a smile none the less, one that took years of pain and growth.
2. I’m texting people now.
It’s my new favorite thing. I haven’t been this excited since I used Google Hangouts to run online groups ten years ago. Daily texts + a private link to a Google Doc that takes you deeper on the week’s topic at the end of the week. It’s my new toy — playing with different ways to be a catalyst in one’s life. It’s what gets me up at 5:30am on a Saturday.
But with anything new comes self doubt, learning, failure,and getting back up. New always requires a journey and this is becoming one. The first step was to hire my first assistance. I needed help. There’s tons of admin, management, and research involved. Thank Jesus she’s a writer and a badass. She was a God send. If this texting thing grows, I will have to build a team and TAT will no longer be a one Korean man show.
Fear.
3. JRNI Coaching is all grown up.
I started Jrni seven years ago after going through the lonely and frustrating therapist journey. If you’re a therapist or social worker, you know what I’m talking about. I started the course in my kitchen in my underwear with just one question. Is there a better way to help people help people? After many years, a few rotating partners, and the building of a team, JRNI is now a thriving community. We are ICF certified and have graduated nearly five hundred students. It’s not just a life coaching intensive. It’s a life changing intensive. I’m so proud of everyone who has made it what it is today.
As it continues to grow, there is a letting go involved. It’s like your baby is now going off to college. You have to let her go and live her life. And that can be hard.
4. My past life comes back.
If you didn’t know, I wrote screenplays before case notes. I was a struggling screenwriter before becoming a therapist. I did it for many years and burned the fuck out. It wasn’t making me happy anymore so I changed careers. Now I find myself in pitch meetings again. I recently wrote a TV pilot. It brought up tons of old insecurities and triggers. I have no plans on being a screenwriter again. But the universe has opened some doors in the world I ran from. And if the higher ups want me to help people using this platform, I will answer that call.
So all these things have been on my mind lately. They have also been triggering me. Flooding me with self doubt, false beliefs, and the tugging of my old chasing state, behavior, and energy. I feel like it’s a test. To see if I am different. To see if anything has changed. To see if I’m just a talking head.
I don’t know. Maybe I am. Or have gotten to be. I do talk a lot. But then I play back my story. And see all the people I have been privileged to work with in the last decade. The drug-addicted kids in nonprofit. The eating disordered patients in that treatment center. All the one on one sessions, in coffee shops and online. The students I teach in the Catalyst Intensive every Sunday. The people in the airports who saw a book titled and related to being a miserable fuck. Everyone who listens to my weekly podcast or gets my daily texts.
And THAT’S what gives me strength. It’s the vine that pulls me out of my mental quicksand. Because like you, I also struggle with cognitive distortions and limited beliefs. I live in the past and allow what was to strangle what is or what could be. With both hands.
But when I think about my journey and everyone I’ve collided with over the years, it’s easier to trust the unfolding. To let go. To believe that this is not even about me but something greater. You. Us.
It’s easier to breathe, to trust, to continue to be me and feed my passions, without worrying about push back or what others may think. It’s easier to hold on to decisions because they feel honest to me. Not because other people have highlighted them with their shoulds.
As I get older and learn more about this thing called life, the more I believe we are all meant to be conduits. By starting to live a through-me life instead of a to-me life. And to do that, we must get out of our own way.
Which I’m still working on.
- Angry
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