How I got to Japan, Part 2: Letting Go

I returned to the USA with my new goal in mind. Asked for an internal transfer, and was told "maybe."

I was a few years into my career and frankly, a bit lost. Didn't have the right mentoring structure. Was quietly dealing with a health issue. My work on DEI at the company had attracted contrarians (again, this is Texas). My new manager was well-intentioned, but fairly absent, so feedback came very late.

When I think about the eight or so months between Japan and turning in my notice, I feel a sadness. I didn't know how to pivot out. I was tired of coworkers making sexist jokes and questioning if women belonged in tech. I was tired of working on a team that was more a collection of individual contributors, where asking for help would be ignored.

I wish I could go back in time and teach myself more about managing up, about building and leveraging a network, and how to use the broader tech community to skill up. I wish I could pull myself out of that rut. But sometimes, the only way out is through.

Occasionally I'd travel to San Francisco on the weekend to finish my tattoo. Generally this would involve a visit to Circus Center for some flying trapeze, and then a few hours on the table at Tuesday Tattoo. I loved the Outer Sunset. It felt so detached from the corporate hustle culture that had been slowly creeping up from the Valley. The sign at Trouble Coffee to "thrash or die."

I visited my friend Sara from Gonzaga, who was now working with international students at a nearby university. Back in Spokane, I remembered when she was preparing to leave for the JET program in Japan. She invited all the international student community over to inherit possessions, leaving me with a beautiful Mexican folk art horse and my first cobbler shaker. She'd lived in Nagoya for three years before returning to the States.

"How can I get a job in Japan?" I asked her, explaining that the internal transfer option was unclear.

"Set a date for when you want it to happen. If the timeline isn't moving, find a different way," she noted.

I nodded.

I want to preface this next part by saying we're gonna talk about death. And if that's a subject that makes you uncomfortable, read with caution. And if you are feeling unwell or have thoughts of suicide, please ask for support (USA) (Japan). Sending love.

During that time, I was reading a lot of self-help books and thinking about detachment, buddhism, and transformation. The Cole Valley apartment I'd stay in had a chipper black cat and a stack of interesting quotes, and one by the Zen master Bunan stood out to me:

Death naturally makes most of us uncomfortable. But what if thinking about the fragility of our lives helps us live with more intention and meaning? What if we start thinking of our lives from the end, and write backwards? What kind of life would you live if you wanted to live with no regrets? What values would you hold dear? What would you give to your community? What would you build?

Detachment can set us free.

Things weren't improving. My quarterly review was disappointing, with feedback that really needed to come months earlier. And I took it personally, an early career pattern that I also wish I could time-hop and intervene.* My health situation was a continual distraction. I took a road trip up the California coast, and planned my next move. I decided to resign and take a Sabbatical. I'd saved a bit of money so I could pause for a bit and re-align. (I want to be transparent about the safety net I had built, and I recognize that I am very blessed to have had that ability. I'm not advising for folks to quit their job and expect things to magically fall in place.)

The company assigned me a new manager, as the prior one had too many other obligations. The new manager actually had a great reputation as a kind and empathetic leader. I remember handing him my resignation letter and crying. He pleaded with me to stay. Sometimes I wonder if I could have made it work. And I'm forever grateful that he valued me, that he saw potential in me when I felt like I was at the bottom.

I wasn't really sure where I would go. I almost dropped out of tech. For a month, I tried driving Lyft, before figuring out that it was a scam that slowly sucked away my time while depreciating my Toyota. I worked on selling art on my Etsy store, but it was also tough.

I took care of the medical thing. I started taking online courses in Human Computer Interaction. On Saturdays I'd Japanese conversation at Austin Community College. I went to AlterConf in Texas. I traveled around Asia and took textile workshops in Laos and Japan. The farmstay indigo workshop was life-changing.

I interviewed at Google Tokyo after a lot of algorithm study. Slashed my "cracking the coding interview" to cut out the answers to keep it light when on the road. Didn't pass at Google. But I kept trying, and I kept rebuilding.

I decided I would buy a ticket to Japan so that people would take me more seriously. So I set a date: February 14, 2018, I would go to Tokyo on a Tourist visa and make this dream happen.

I sold 80% of my belongings. I had this feeling that I was scrapping my life for parts. Goodbye car. A few things in a storage unit. But when I let go of things (which is very hard for an artist!) I felt more hope open up. When I told people my dream of living abroad, they supported me. They believed in me. When I messed up the rabies certification for my cat, my friends stepped in and volunteered to care for her for six months.

My community helped me rebuild. Another blessing.

I'll never forget the weird people I met selling things on Craigslist. The couple going through an ugly divorce. The ex-husband passive-aggressively parked the truck far down the road, the ex-wife and teenage son came to carry the couch. The poor kid had to relay messages between mom and dad, who wouldn't speak to one another. He was naturally exhausted, and reacted with the honesty emotion of most teens. And the mom turned to me and snipped "You should have kids and enjoy them growing up and mouthing off to you!"

This tripped some wire in my head. One should NEVER badmouth their own family in front of strangers. Given this woman had already paid me $150 for the couch, I'd had enough.

I looked her square in the eye and said: "Hey—I'm moving to JAPAN in three days. I don't need this energy in my apartment. So would you like your couch? Then stop fighting and haul it out."

She quieted down real fast and carried the couch out. I feel bad for that kid. He didn't deserve that.

I'd become a Real Texan, with a confidence to set boundaries. Soon it would be time to become something new.

✌️

*Your time-traveling Career Coach says: The book "Thanks for the Feedback" has been one of my favorite resources on learning how to take feedback better. Depersonalizing allows us to hear the message with less emotional charge, so we can consciously decide what to do with the feedback. Gamechanger.