I’m on a quest to grow a tree, not a forest

If you follow me on social media you know I’m pursuing mindset coaching.

A few weeks ago I reached a breaking point. I knew I wasn’t being honest nor fair to myself.

I knew I was hindering my own personal growth. I was preventing myself from seeking out my passions and becoming the individual I hope to be one day.

One who is courageous, compassionate, and disciplined.

I want to be a resource for those lost like I once was – and still am. I want to shed light on a path to greatness, endless joy, and success.

I want to create a comforting environment for growth.

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I once considered being a therapist or a writer. While both would provide knowledge and comfort to people, they wouldn’t ensure empowerment. They wouldn’t ensure my work was motivational or inspiring. While they would ensure growth – I wanted to provide more.

I wanted to provide an avenue for success. Both mental and physical.

My goal is to empower individuals to discover and pursue their passions. As messy and terrifying as that process is, it’s a rewarding one.

I’ve found so much joy in exploring writing over the years. In elementary school, I tinkered with the characters and personas I could create and puppeteer. Creating my own personal heroes and enemies to live vicariously through.

In middle school, I learned how to create storylines. To show how a protagonist endures a hero’s journey from start to finish. My characters developed depth, personality, and passion. They were human, just like us.

In high school, my view of writing was altered. No longer were my stories fairytales. They spoke the truth. The cold, hard, reality of human existence. War, trauma, and pain flowed from my history books to my fingertips.

No longer would I wish to live vicariously through my characters, I then hoped to avoid and never encounter their often bleak realities. The trauma and hardship of refugees fleeing their homes in Syria to a neighboring country for safety. The fear in an infant’s eyes as tears welled up. The reflection of a soldier in her eyes, geared up for a war he would not win.

Over battles that are not his own. And ideals he did not choose.

This was the meager reality of my high school writing. It was honest, but it was also incredibly painful. I distanced myself from books and creative writing during this time.

A pen seemed to hold the generational trauma of millions. I couldn’t bear it.

I was but a sixteen-year-old – burdened by the hardships of centuries. While I chose to avoid literature, I didn’t avoid public displays of justice.

I pursued law. I interned with Catharine Baker as she ran for assembly. I joined Youth and Government and signed up for We The People instead of our typical American government class. I interned at the San Francisco District Attorney’s Office in the Victim Services unit. I attended trials and watched the legal system at work over murder and other violent crimes. These trials were real, not fictional like they once were in my legal books, mock trials, and mind.

The weight of that reality was heavy, but also inspiring. I wanted to do good.

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During my time interning at the DA’s office, I would subtlety pass by the booking’s attorney’s office every day to say hi and hope one day she pulled in and asked for my opinion on a case. And one day she did.

I was eighteen. The summer before my freshman year of college I decided the verdict of a case brought before the SF District Attorney’s Office.

I sat there pensively reviewing the documents – the police report, the witness testimony, then the victims, and finally the assailants. While sitting in her office, the officer on record stopped by and provided his record on the case. I listened intensively.

I gave my opinion and my reasoning, and the booking’s attorney agreed.

And while that day I had an effect on the legal and judicial system. Felt I had done something that summer to make the Bay Area a juster place. I still felt empty.

I felt the immense pressure and weight to do more. To do better. To be better.

From the age of five – I knew I wanted to be an attorney. Instill and uphold justice. To write the many wrongs of our legal and judicial system.

That dream changed my sophomore year of college.

I accepted the fateful truth that the law was not for me. That I would not have the effect I always dreamed of as a kid. I knew I needed a more active and personal role. What that looked like I did not know.

Time went by. Writing continued to be an intensive experience. Where I sought to right the wrongs of generations passed. I was angry. I was distraught. And I was lost.

I was aimlessly fighting a battle against an unimaginable enemy. Was it the government, god, my family, or something else entirely? I didn’t know.

I continued down this path. Until I decided business was the answer. I would alter the world by being an empowering, and comforting force for women and underrepresented groups in the international business sector.

I believed I could make a difference. I thought that being able to connect with people from various backgrounds having grown up in China and in the Islamic Religion was enough. That I could speak the language and elicit change.

I planned to alter the narrative and the effects of big business. So I completed the technology management program at UCSB, in addition to a minor in Chinese and a major in political science.

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The summer after graduating from university I joined a tech company. Two to be exact. One was a startup based in the Bay Area and the other was an IT company based in Santa Barbara. I worked hard. I met and exceeded expectations where I could. I believed naively in the promises of those supervising me.

That they had my best interests in mind and not only understood but supported my larger objectives. To alter the narrative – and do meaningful work.

I was wrong.

The classic tale of a young grad lied to and strung along. They didn’t believe in my goals – more importantly, they didn’t care about me. They were willing to lie to me as long as they needed to-to achieve their goals.

Which was profit. Simply that.

I found myself in toxic and often inappropriate situations with colleagues. Unsure of what to do, and how to address situations that left me feeling used, unheard, and uncomfortable.

I didn’t want to jeopardize my future. I didn’t want to ruin the progress I had made. Most of all, I didn’t want to tarnish my reputation.

This is when I realized tech wasn’t it either. That the field can be and in this instance was toxic and manipulative to its core. And I would not have the impact on society that I hoped to have.

So I left. I found a new job in a sector I’m passionate about. The outdoors.

I continued to write. This time in a journal and this blog, soshedares.

I wrote about nature, my adventures, and learnings. I wrote about anything I felt like sharing or exploring.

I began journaling by noting an element, an object, or a feeling.

I would write about the ocean, the wind, the sun, and the sky. I would write about fear, anger, dissatisfaction, and joy.

I would write about life and what that meant to me.

I would write about my learnings on this blog, my experiences, and my process.

I shared what felt right. Even when I was unsure of its effect.

I’ve shared aimlessly for the past year and a half. And while I’m so grateful to have started this blog following that trip to Mount Tamalpais.

I am eager for direction.

Focus.

It’s time. It’s time for me to hone in on my craft. To create something beautiful. To create something lasting. Something great that will help many to come.

I’ve decided my path forward. My blog will continue to be a place where I share and explore my experiences. It won’t be a requirement – it will be an option.

An option, separate from work and reality to share and be honest. With you and myself.

My day to day life will be consumed by my work both professionally and passionately.

I’m going to hone my craft in creating short-form content, creating meaningful storylines that leave you feeling an unavoidable emotion.

My goals are to inspire and cultivate growth and compassion.

I will also be offering mindset coaching sessions once a week.

This is my path forward. I accept it may not work. That it may be difficult and all-consuming.

But I also accept that I cannot continue to lay a million seeds and forget to water my many new beginnings.

I must lay one seed, and remember to water it, care for it, and teach it. I must develop the discipline to focus on this singular tree so it can one day grow to be tall, resilient, and everlasting.

This tree will one day be centuries old and no longer require my care to thrive.

My teachings are my seed.

My legacy is my tree.