You’re probably here because you’re curious to know more about me. But before I jump into my resume, it’s important I share that the changes I made in my life were slow – a series of two steps forward, one step back.  It wasn’t until I hit rock bottom in my 40’s where I began to question the very foundation I built my life upon. I had the life I was taught to want: A house.  A dependable provider husband and a young family.  And, to my parents’ pride, a doctoral degree that allowed me to teach at the highest levels of education.  From the outside, everything looked picture-perfect.  Inside, I felt hollow and disconnected. 

So how did I get here? I grew up learning how to live in two worlds.

At home, I was taught to be grateful, quiet, and accomplished – to honor my parents’ sacrifices by doing everything “right.”  In the world outside our home, I learned to adapt, to assimilate, to succeed in a system that didn’t quite know what to do with me, but was happy to reward me if I stayed within the lines.

Like many of us in the Asian community, I learned early how to shape-shift.  I learned how to work hard, not complain, and prove my worth through achievement.  I learned how to keep parts of myself hidden – my creativity, my questions, my needs – because proving my value to belong and external success felt more urgent.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had done everything I was supposed to do and still felt disconnected from myself, exhausted and burned out.  I didn’t have language for it then, but I was living in the tension so many of us know well: external success yet completely unseen and empty inside.

This eventually became my turning point. I had no choice but to give myself permission to say I am not okay – an incredibly difficult thing to say out loud for this self-proclaimed perfectionist-who-wants-everyone-to-know-I’m-fine.

I started running.  In that movement, I began to feel clarity again. Running grounded me enough to ask the questions I had avoided for years: Who am I really? 

As an educator and researcher, I did what I knew how to do – I turned to the research, therapy, and tons of self-development podcasts. I immersed myself in work on burnout, perfectionism, people-pleasing, identity, healing, and the nervous system. What I discovered mirrored my own experience and the experiences of so many Asian Americans I knew: We are taught how to function, not how to feel.

Five years later, that personal reckoning has grown into something larger. I launched Courage Class, a podcast and storytelling platform centered on the Asian American experience, and created a short-form documentary about my own transformation – not because my story is unique, but because it’s deeply familiar to my community.  I wanted to create the space I couldn’t find when I needed it most.

Here’s what I’ve learned, and what I want you to know: There is nothing wrong with you.

Many of us were raised to build protective strategies to survive in a Western world that often flattens or misreads us. Those strategies helped us succeed but they can also keep us disconnected from ourselves. Healing doesn’t mean rejecting our culture. It means honoring what kept us safe, while gently releasing what no longer allows us to live fully.

That work is hard to do alone.

Transformation happens best in community – especially one that understands the complexity of navigating multiple identities, generational expectations, and unspoken cultural rules and expectations. Courage Class exists to hold that space.

If you’ve ever felt like you were living between worlds – doing everything right but still feeling something missing – you’re not alone.  I’m so glad you’re here.

With Courage (and still learning),