Another week has slipped away. I’ve been so busy that even the habit I’ve kept since childhood—writing a daily journal—was left untouched for days. And yet, when I finally sat down, pen in hand, a question came to me:
Why do I keep writing at all? What do I get from it?
My mother, my very first teacher, insisted I write daily long before I even started school. At that time, it felt like a tedious chore. But over the years, it became an anchor. A quiet space to listen to myself. Still, I never asked: What is it really giving me?
The answer came unexpectedly, through Rollo May’s Love and Will. He wrote that the urge to create—whether through writing, painting, or any form of art—often comes from inner conflict and discomfort.
These emotions are too complex to resolve through action alone, so we turn to expression. We create not because we have answers, but because we are searching for them.
And suddenly, it made sense.
I write to live with discomfort.
Discomfort as a Modern Condition
After hosting my first big event, my body felt emptied—medical tests confirmed what I already knew: chronic fatigue. I had been running on adrenaline, pushing through endless to-do lists, trying to match the pace of everyone else sprinting through life.
Somewhere along the way, I confused “being busy” with “having meaning.” Maybe I wasn’t working for growth or purpose, but simply to silence that gnawing unease inside.
But I’m not alone. Many of us fight discomfort in different ways. Some accumulate wealth, hoping that financial freedom will calm their anxieties. Others chase status, beauty, or success to keep the doubts quiet.
And then there’s entrepreneurship—hailed as the ultimate cure-all. In China, especially, it often feels like everyone is starting a company, rushing to become the next CEO.
But is it always about passion? Or are many simply following the tide, using work as a shield against their inner unrest?
The Paradox of Freedom
At some point, I realized something I should have known all along:
Freedom is not given—it’s earned.
True freedom comes not from trends, money, or even passports, but from building strength: the ability to choose your own pace, your own partners, your own life.
Success isn’t about fitting in or copying others. It’s about creating a rhythm you can actually dance to.
This is why I hesitate when people joke about my trips abroad—“Will you get cosmetic surgery in Seoul?” Perhaps. But what struck me more was how many willingly sacrifice so much just to look identical to others. Maybe their discomfort comes from being different, and conformity feels safer.
But sameness is not freedom. It’s the opposite.
Choosing Growth Over Escape
So here is where I land:
You can fight discomfort at work.
You can fight it with money.
You can fight it with beauty, attention, or even distraction.
But in the end, discomfort is not something to be defeated. It’s a teacher. A signpost. Sometimes even a friend.
Every creative act, every attempt at growth, every moment of courage is born out of that friction. The goal is not to silence it but to learn how to live with it—how to let it sharpen you, not break you.
As The Godfather once asked:
“Why did I win all the battles, and still I failed? What betrayed me? My mind? Or my heart?”
The truth is, discomfort will always be with us. The only question is: Do we run from it, or do we grow through it?
My Quiet Conclusion
Writing taught me this: life is not about eliminating discomfort but about becoming larger than it. Growth, freedom, joy—all come when we keep walking, keep writing, keep creating.
So when discomfort knocks on your door, don’t panic. Sit with it. Listen. Let it shape you.
Because on the other side of discomfort, a truer version of you is waiting.
Ten years later, my voice has grown, my world has expanded, but the essence remains.
This series is a trace of my journey—a way to honor the beginnings, and to let you walk with me through both the fire of the past and the becoming of today.
