In my anxiety-induced restlessness, there are always two versions of me. One that is restless, self-deprecating, and hating about the fact that I am falling behind. There is another, kinder, softer, but the more resilient voice I’d like you to hear from. It’s a whisper of how far we have come. The road has been long, and slow, and hard at times, but it was a road of many many often forgotten successes. I want to never lose sight of that.

I was the first to get a university degree in my generation, and still, the first (potentially the only) who has a Master’s degree. The fact that both degrees come from prestigious universities in Singapore and in Canada made that a bit more challenging, and a bit more rewarding.

I was the first Vietnamese in 6 years of NUS Entrepreneurship program in the US, and one of the selected 12 from hundreds of applications. I had 2 promotions in 3 years in Singapore. I became a Project Manager at the age of 27. I am now a Director of Software Engineering, at the age of 35. 

As I handed in my resignation to my current role, my boss, still in shock, said, “You are an adventurous guy. So this choice made sense for you. There is no universe in which you won’t be successful.”

Truth be told, I am very anxious about what is coming up next. I am moving to Ontario in a pandemic, to a much smaller start up firm with a smaller team. I am taking my partner and my family with me, leaving behind our comfortable home and our comfortable life in a comfortable role. I am terrified. And when I look up, at my value statement, I see this.

“Growth and comfort do not co-exist”

No one knows what the future holds. Many stories of greatness start with failures and humble beginnings and tremendous risks. Many many untold stories also have risks like these.

But I’m not afraid. Restless, but not afraid. As long as my supportive partner is with me, and I can still type and program and work with people, I will be alright.

I might even be the next CTO / CPO / CEO of a tech company. Because sometimes, with enough struggles and hard work and humility and risks taking, dreams might come true afterall.

 “What’s terrifying about praying is the loneliness of it. You show more faith praying for your first time more than any nuns. It’s so terrifying to sit alone by yourself in that silence” – Mary Karr

I will never pretend that my life right now is not in a place of privilege. Considering where I came from, I am an able-bodied married man and a global project manager who has a full-time job and a shelter during the global pandemic. I will not pretend that I am not forever grateful for that privilege. 

Yet, just like the rest of the world in 2020, the pandemic has put a lot of our lives on hold, exaggerated, and exacerbate many of my anxieties and restlessness. Career ceilings and roadblocks. Racial injustice. Our adoption. 

I feel lost. I always somehow had directions in my life, either by people telling me what I should do, or people telling me what I could never achieve (and so I did it anyway just to spite them). It’s just an absolute silence with many rejections right now. 

I felt like the people are telling me “We wanted to find a unicorn. You look like it and you sound like it. But we would like to find a unicorn with a bigger horn.” They wanted someone with my skillsets and experience but with way more experience and years of practicing it, without giving me the opportunity to practice it. 

And so I pray and I pray and I pray

Not for something to be given to me for free. Not for something to be bestowed upon me because I deserve it.

I pray for a direction. Just tell me what to do. Tell me what is the right thing to do. So I can do it and commit to it and put it 100% like I always do in my life. 

I arrived at the privileged position I have today because I have always had an internal compass that drives me forward. 

I wanted to go to Singapore because I wanted a better advanced-education. I left for Philadelphia because I wanted to learn and know about entrepreneurship and work in a start-up. I went to Canada because I want to be out and be authentic and be married. 

I know I want to create products. I know I want to become a CTO in my lifetime of a tech company. I thought I knew how to get there. But I’m feeling incredibly restless and fearful that the past years I have spent on the wrong steps in the wrong direction. I can course correct. I will put in the work. I just don’t know where to start and I don’t have many 3-5 years cycle left to explore all the wrong directions.

And so I pray and I pray and I pray

Not for something free. Just for the opportunity to earn it.

This new blog begins with a love letter

We start in 2020, the year of the pandemic, with rising infections and death, and stupidity of people who don’t believe in the virus. The global economy, and Alberta’s, severely struggled after the pandemic and the crash of oil prices, once again. The US is tearing itself apart south of the border. Our provincial government is taking away people’s safety net, privatizing healthcare, firing 11000 people during a pandemic, in exchange for the corporate tax cut. And that’s just the last 3 months. 

So, against that backdrop, I want to dedicate this writing to my loved ones, and to hope.

In 2020 I became Canadian. And, even with the unfulfilled promises, and yet to be fulfilled potentials, Canada has become my home. In the pandemic, and in the global reawakening of racial injustices, Canada has (mostly) responded in a way that is competent and comforting. Of course, living in Alberta, I’ve encountered a fair amount of people who are on “the wrong side of history”, but they are not the loudest voice. And even in their ignorance, I feel safe to be authentic and share my view, because of the legal framework and freedom this country allows. I was lucky to have kept my job during the pandemic. And seeing the programs in place to protect people, and options for us should anything happens. It is comforting and calming.

In 2019, I married the perfectly imperfect Canadian that is meant for me. We do not have a perfect relationship (never had). He is not my best friend (because only Betty-white women-marry their best friends. That title in my heart is reserved for a very argumentative Bruneian woman. Also, most of my very good friends are very argumentative WOC. Coincidence?). Yet time and time again, against the odds, in our very loud and passionate arguments, we found our way. He learned and he evolved. I learned and I evolved. We continue learning and evolving. It is not a perfect partnership, but it creates a perfect condition for us to challenge each other and grow. We were sitting in the car, and we said “I believe in us”. Even if we have to live apart for a bit due to the career situation, or the pandemic situation, I believe we will find a way to continue to grow together”.

In 2020, my uncles and aunt told the aforementioned person “Welcome to the family”. No dramatic coming out story. No tears or drama. Just that. In the promised land, it’s not the emotional labor of the minority to ask for acceptance. The law, the culture, and the people create the condition for the people to learn. And when they do, wonderful things happen. Like bún bò and ice cream and family photos with mixed-race nephews and nieces and grandchild.

“Mảnh đất giữ chân một người khi nơi đó nằm xuống một người thân, hay đang sống một người mà mình yêu thương” – paraphrasing Lý Lan

So here it is, to new beginning and old fears, to new challenges and old friends, we will get through this together.

And even if we don’t, even if the world is to end, I know I have lived a life that fulfills my promises and an earnest attempt to fulfill my potentials.