This started as an email to some close & dear friends in San Francisco. It’s all about closing one chapter and starting anew. Some friends have offered to throw me a little farewell party, and honestly, I’m never sure about it. This is because saying goodbye has always been hard for me since I was young (a lot of moving to different places). I’d like it to be quiet, nonverbal, formless, and even a little bit passive.
That's also why my blog is non-interactive – no likes or comments. I'd rather have fewer likes but more genuine connections. Some have suggested using Substack, but my response is always, "No, but you can always text me to 'like' it!"
Because what truly matters will always matter, no matter where or how we express it, or if we ever express it at all.
This is why I stay away from Twitter and TikTok. When I was designing a therapeutic workshop in China a couple of months ago, the founding team urged me to build my “US registered therapist” IP on social media to boost credibility. (Apparently, everyone is doing that in China. I am the weirdo who doesn’t have a TikTok account.) Their logic is simple: attention equals credentials. (I agree and disagree, it really depends on what you do and your personality.) But if I need to maintain an online persona for attention, I can't be a genuine me – and that persona will distort everything I touch, more curse than blessing.
I've spent the past four years and a half with my head burrowed deep in psychotherapy - wearing the hats of student, client, and therapist, which paralleled and coincided with my "double life" somewhat entangled with Silicon Valley AI & tech world, where I've often found myself straddling the line in-between - one foot in, and one foot out. In these dual roles, I've observed that we are (mostly, myself), in some way, escaping from one thing and overcompensating elsewhere.
What are we avoiding? And what are we seeking?
Besides therapy, several keywords summarize my past five years in San Francisco (not about me, but around me): tech, founders, AGI, group house, mommy issues, polyamory, date-me page, feminism, and the list goes on. I’ve learned to tread carefully around all the labels, especially those ending in “-ism.” It's not about malice but about the elusive nature of identity here:
- Attention could be your main currency.
- You're only worthy if someone else finds you worthy.
- "Impact" must be immediate, visible, and quantifiable.
(E.g., body count, Twitter followers, and the funniest example I can think of is a guy on Hinge adding his startup valuation next to his name. Ahh, I love how odd SF is!)
But take a step back, how can anyone be so certain about who or what they are? Looking at myself five years ago, I'd feel like a stranger! Life now feels like a series of random twists, turns, and hilarious surprises. I never would have imagined back then that I'd be working with people's suffering now. I've come to know more about divorce than marriage. Gender is fluid, everything is nondual, and the word "in-between" is my new gem. (Friends have started calling me "woke," haha!)
There was a period of time I was particularly curious about "Founder Identity" as in what motivated them to come to Silicon Valley. I had some talks with some "founders" (yes, air quoting), asking them, "What's the real reason you chose to be a founder? What's your product? How do you plan to run a company?" Their eyes would flicker with a hint of guilt. I could almost see their brains generating answers like the chatbots they build. (They feel so much commonality with machines?!) Then, in an amusingly honest way, they'd say, "I don't want to go back to Meta." (For the record, only three friends gave me answers like this. Most people I asked are still passionately building their startups or projects.) This logic is as funny as when I ask a guy, "What kind of girl do you want to date next?" And he says, "I don't know, just someone not like my ex." (facepalm here.)
Sometimes, we obsess over one career (or one person, or one identity) simply because we cannot not do it - it defines us in ways we struggle to imagine otherwise. By taking a rebellious (or obedient) stance, we are likely reacting instead of choosing. In addition, we might base our life on avoidance, resentment, and anger - an exhausting and costly foundation.
Ironically, 7000 miles away in Beijing, two months ago, I was taking a walk with my friend S in a forest. She told me she finalized her divorce with her husband (we call him "Wasband" now). The conversation was epic:
S: I feel it in my body, I wanted to give birth. It's not me, it's my body.
Me: What do you mean by in your body?
S: Just like this energy from my head to my vagina, it wants to get out!
Me: Then why divorcing now? You need a man to do that, no?
S: I just don't want to have sex with him. I want a baby, but not with him.
Me: Is this some new feminism shit going on in China?!
S: What is that?
Fascinating!
We think we know much, yet understand so little. We can feel ensnared by our knowledge, but shouldn't it liberate rather than trap us? We spend so much time strategizing the "right" way to do things, only to realize that we overcomplicate things with "norms" and labels and our own identity crises. It's easy to confuse what we truly desire with what we think we should want. Like those founders diving into startups to avoid some life or my friend S, divorcing to seriously pursue motherhood, many things start to contradict oneself while others make perfect sense if you really dive into it. Life is about exploring what actually works for you and navigating the unexpected bumps with honesty.
Honesty is so hard, it requires me to recognize and then let go of my ego, fears, outdated identity, and perhaps, some fantasies. The whole past year has been a hardcore practice of self-honesty. It was definitely not a “magic-mushroom trip” like aha realization. (I really wish it was.) It has been back and forth, better and worse, ups and downs. It’s been an identity transition.
(Side note: During a recent conversation, my friend J and I explored the parallels between moving on from the identity of a San Francisco founder and going through a divorce after a five-year marriage. J even wrote a blog discussing how he and others have experienced a sort of "breakup" with this identity. Such transitions can lead to real identity crises, not merely situational but deeply psychological and existential.)
SF is such an amusingly unique place. (Just like other places unique in their own way.) Here, I've seen broke guys dating multiple gorgeous women at the same time and wealthy men in their 40s still struggle to find a girlfriend. I've seen people stay loyal in their dead marriages for decades and others cheating anyway in their happy relationships. I wish there was a formula for life, but unfortunately, and also thank God, there isn't one.
Life isn't linear; sometimes, it's so so so random. This might be the most hippie thing I am going to lay out: The best stories have no meaning. They serve no "bigger picture." They are sheer and childlike. They are illogical, irrational, unprocessable, mind-blowing, and even mindfucking. They keep you up at night. They feel like a free fall. And they tap into your nerves and resort to fantasy.
You escape from one country to another, from the gritty world of startups to the lalaland of psychology and spirituality. Expressing yourself in the most post-modern, liberating manner at Burning Man, only to spot yourself returning home to write a "Love Contract" that offers no real protection.
As many of us step into our 30s, the real fun has begun: Shedding or reshaping old identities, values, and purposes—I, too feel the inevitable, almost manic urges for Meaning. These urges aren't just intellectual; I've felt them vividly in my body. It's like the journey of an alcoholic becoming sober—where everything loses its illusionary charm, yet everything feels refreshingly new and real. And I feel my feet standing on the ground, with the dust settling around me, along with all my fears and vulnerability, but in a lighthearted way.
Let me pause here, right in the quiet space between what I know and what I don't understand yet. Let these stories take a breath or two before I burden them with any meaning.
As my friend N said: I think you are attempting into reality. And reality is hard. Stop processing.
Enjoy life & just be.