EVP

When I got into Berkeley, much to the surprise of my peers and college counselor, I gave all the credit to my personal statements. I assumed my SAT scores and paltry extracurriculars were too unremarkable to warrant admission.

When I got my first agency job at LEWIS Pulse, I chalked it up to luck. That I was at the right place at the right time when a college acquaintance offered to refer me to this new company she’d just started working at.

And when I rose quickly at LEWIS, I attributed all of my promotions to the kindness of my managers and good timing, as I rode a wave of rapid growth within the agency.

These are just examples of all the ways I’ve undercut my own achievements.

I used to identify as “lazy,” because I love taking naps and playing puzzle games on my phone. It wasn’t until my therapist asked me point blank during a session, “Why do you think you’re lazy? With everything you do, do you not deserve to rest sometimes?” I felt the foundation of my entire identity shift. It had never occurred to me that what I considered to be bad habits were actually a form of rest.

Since then, I’ve been on a journey of reframing. How many times has my internal monologue been at odds with how others perceive me? How often have I given my power away, attributing the positive events and success in my life to luck, karmic retribution, or the perhaps undeserved generosity of others? I’m going through a similar moment of reframing now, spurred by my most recent promotion to EVP.

I’ll admit - my new title feels big, almost too big. Like an oversized sweater hanging heavy on my small frame. But if I think back to my previous positions, all of my titles have felt bigger than I was comfortable with. I just faked my way through all of them.

The higher I rise and the more visible I become as a leader, the less interested I am in “faking it ‘til I make it.” I think it does a disservice to the younger generation of aspiring leaders, those who might also be struggling with imposter syndrome, to pretend I have my shit together. So allow me to be real for a second -

I have almost never felt 100% confident stepping into any role that’s come my way. Like many others, I used to hide my college graduation year because I feared my age would undermine my seniority. I’ve also had my ass handed to me a few times - by executives and by clients. Each time was scary and deeply uncomfortable, but I ultimately used each experience to learn from my mistakes and get better.

What I’m good at is saying yes - to new opportunities, new challenges, and new experiences. And I’m good at giving a shit about things outside of me - I expend a lot of energy just trying to be a better human, and it’s a philosophy that’s served me well both personally and professionally. This is where my power lies, the power I’ve been so quick to give away in the past.

I’m very grateful and humbled that leadership at my company deemed me fit for this new role. And while yes, I’m still a little uncomfortable about it, I’m using this as an opportunity to fully step into my power, wholly and unapologetically.

"We accept the love we think we deserve."

I first read those words in “The Perks of Being a Wallflower,” when I was 16 and single and pining for a relationship. Over a decade later, my best friend would use similar language to reassure me that I was worthy and deserving of all the love that I desired, as I contended with the slow decline of a “situationship” that wasn’t going anywhere.

Today is Liam’s and my 3rd anniversary, and it is only now (with a ring on my finger) that I feel totally comfortable admitting that I spent the first year of our relationship insecure that this childhood dream crush of a man could be into me. Me, this 4’11” Filipino girl who looked nothing like the leggy models I usually saw on the arms of men who looked like him.

I remember feeling uncomfortable whenever he took pictures of me in the beginning. I felt self-conscious and afraid that if he were to share them, would people be surprised that this conventionally attractive man chose to be with me? Would they silently question the merits of our pairing and whether or not I deserved to be with him? I’ve never shared the pictures below, which Liam took after one of our early dates, because I think on a deep, subconscious level, I didn’t feel worthy of his gaze.

I know where the insecurity comes from. It stems from my high school experience of feeling lonely and unwanted while seemingly all of my peers matched up around me. It stems from a short-lived teenage romance that spanned only a few months, but created ripples of emotional trauma that left me feeling undesirable and unattractive. And if I’m being totally honest, it also stems from a lack of representation - growing up the media I consumed was inundated with tall, attractive, model-looking women dating other tall, attractive, model-looking men and it literally never occurred to me that perhaps “my type” could actually be interested in me until I started using dating apps.

This journal entry from 2005 pretty succinctly captures the limiting belief I’d cultivated since I was 16:

It’s frustrating knowing that I can never have him. Or any ‘him’s. Those one guys I actually desire. These things don’t work out like they do in movies with me. I’m just that small Asian girl who’s pretty, but not memorable. Smart, but not remarkable. Funny, but not hysterical. 

I’m not the girl who gets the guy, but just once, I’d like to break the cycle. Just once out of a gajillion. I’d like to get the guy. 

I know I joke a lot about Liam being “my favorite snack,” but it’s because on the flip side, I know that being with him has forced me to confront deep insecurities and negative self talk that I’ve harbored since adolescence. And it strikes me that my early insecurity was another form of imposter syndrome, as I questioned whether I had a right to this kind of love and mutual attraction. But like my experience overcoming imposter syndrome at work, I consciously chose to power through the discomfort until eventually the confidence I was faking turned into something real.

I’m grateful that through therapy and a ton of self-work that I’ve learned how to receive and accept Liam’s love, because it’s been so worth it. I’m 3 years into this big, earth-shaking, uncontainable love, and I can’t wait to see what forever has in store for us.

Love you, Liam. Happy anniversary. 💝

I'm Tired.

But not for the usual reasons you might suspect.

I haven’t been working an unmanageable number of hours and I haven’t been doom scrolling the news. Instead I’m tired for more mundane, everyday reasons.

Like forgetting to go grocery shopping over the weekend and therefore struggling to figure out what to feed myself during the rare 30-minute window I don’t have a meeting. Or having to remind myself to do my physical therapy exercises because I dislocated my shoulder a year ago and am still dealing with persistent pain around my shoulder and down my spine. Or feeling burnt out from “being on” and having to solve problems all day for my job.

I pride myself on being a strong, emotionally resilient, and capable person, so when I catch myself feeling like this - tired and worn down by things that seem truly inconsequential in the grand scheme of things - I feel a little guilty. What a luxury and a privilege to have such trivial “problems” when there are others who struggle with far worse in the world.

But I’m taking this moment to remind myself that all emotions are valid, contextualized within our lived experiences. We can be empathetic to the experiences of others without also discrediting the validity of our own emotions and experiences. Because how can we be empathetic and of service to others if we lack the ability to bear witness to our own emotional world? How can we acknowledge and validate another’s feelings if we are unwilling to acknowledge and validate them in ourselves?

So here I am admitting that I’m struggling to be “on” right now, and giving myself permission to sit in the feeling rather than dismiss it. I know it will eventually pass, as it usually does. And I will come out the other side better for it.

I hope this also gives you permission to feel what you’re feeling, however ugly or silly it may seem. You are allowed to feel the way that you feel.

A Birthday Commitment

I’ve been journaling since I was 9 and online blogging since I was 15. You can find my words littered across the internet if you search hard enough. 

And yet, despite the fact that I (hesitatingly) self-identify as a writer, my writing isn’t widely known in my professional life. I don’t actively hide it, but over the years I’ve been careful to delineate my personal and professional identities, and I recognize that my style of writing is intimate and deeply personal. I’ve been afraid that sharing it would inadvertently lead others to take me less seriously, and so I’ve kept my words tucked in corners of the internet far away from my resume. 

But I’ve felt antsy this past year, and have spent a lot of time meditating and reflecting on what’s missing in my life. Eventually I realized that while I spend a lot of time espousing the benefits of bringing your full self to work, I haven’t stayed true to that, at least not on my LinkedIn (aka the online representation of my professional identity). My old LinkedIn bio used to say:

—

Digital marketing leader with extensive experience developing and executing integrated digital marketing strategies across paid and earned social media and online media. Strong understanding of social media platforms, digital marketing trends, and best practices. Have conceived and launched multi-channel social media campaigns to drive brand awareness and lead generation with measurable success. Core strengths include campaign planning and development, reporting and analytics, client relationship development, team leadership, and process improvement.  

I thrive in fast-paced, high pressure environments and pride myself on being an instinctive problem solver who doesn’t shy away from challenges or issues. I’m passionate about learning new skills (both on the job and independently in my personal life), and part of what I love about the agency world is that there's no shortage of new things to learn. 

—

Honestly, this doesn’t even fucking sound like me. It’s not that any of it is untrue, it just doesn’t accurately convey how I see myself as a person. I’d crafted that bio after looking at many, many other bios, and I thought that this is how I had to portray my skills and experience in order to be taken seriously as a job candidate. This is how I had to talk about myself in order to get hired. 

As I’ve risen in my career, and especially as I’ve become more visible as a Filipino woman in a senior leadership position, it’s become increasingly important to me to set an example for other young women of color - that you can be your authentic self AND find success in the corporate world. It doesn’t have to be one or the other, you don’t have to shed your personality to earn a seat at the table. I want young women to see that the part of me that leads global clients and global teams couldn’t do it without the parts of me that write, practice yoga, pole dance, and read tarot cards. They’re inextricable - I am uniquely capable of doing my job because of the confidence and insight I’ve gained from my hobbies and life experiences.

This is why on this birthday I’m committing to sharing more of my writing - not only on my personal blog, but on my LinkedIn as well. My words are the truest and most authentic expression of me, and I’m no longer interested in fragmenting my identity to better fit within different spaces, or tailoring my voice to appeal to different audiences. 

I hope this also inspires you to pause for a moment of reflection. What makes you authentically you? What would have to change to make you feel more alignment between your personal and professional lives? How can you get there?

Since writing again I have felt a greater sense of purpose and meaning - a feeling that’s been absent despite how happy I’ve been in other areas of my life. I’m looking forward to following through on this birthday commitment and becoming the version of myself I’ve always aspired to be. 

The one who writes. 

---

This is my 5th annual birthday reflection. Past blogs for reference: 

2020
2019
2018
2017

The Truth About When I Was Unemployed for 10 Months

In 2016, I left my cushy agency job and decided to take a break from the corporate world. By that point I’d saved a comfortable amount of money and thought I’d take a few months to be funemployed and then freelance, potentially forever.

10 months later, I decided it was time to return to salaried work and I posted this on my LinkedIn:

After taking a magical career break to work on some personal passion projects, volunteer, and freelance, I'm feeling refreshed and ready to get back into a full-time role. I thought I was done with the agency world, but who am I kidding? I love the hustle.

I'm now looking for opportunities in account services or planning/strategy at an advertising or creative agency in LA. I'm also open to digital, integrated, or brand marketing opportunities at the right company. Let me know if you know of any leads!”

What I didn’t say was that I was down to my last few hundred dollars in my bank account, weighing whether I should move back home with my parents or cash out my credit card points to pay rent. 

Why didn’t I feel like I could tell the truth?

There’s a lot of shame around taking extended periods of time off from the workforce. While career experts tell us that it’s ok to have resume gaps, they also say that we should be transparent and have a story to tell - for example caring for a sick family member or traveling the world or going back to school. Something that proves we were still productive members of society.

But what if we don’t have some noble, Pulitzer-worthy story to tell? Is it not enough to accept that sometimes people just need time to get their shit together?

My LinkedIn post did end up helping me land my current job at Edelman, but the feeling of shame I’d gained during my unemployment spell didn’t just wash away after signing my offer letter. By that point I’d submitted many job applications - few of which materialized into interviews. Fear and self-doubt had already become too deeply embedded into my internal monologue. Maybe my prior career success was just a fluke? Maybe I would need to settle for a pay cut and a title demotion? My shame spiraled into a feeling of imposter syndrome that haunted me in my new role, and I felt totally out of my depth my first year at Edelman.

The only reason I feel comfortable sharing all of this now is because I’ve achieved some measure of success since then (and have also gone to a lot of therapy). I’m no longer embarrassed about what I failed to accomplish, because I know that experience helped get me to where I am today.

There is a tremendous amount of personal growth and transformation that happens during one’s resume gaps. During my gap I went through two breakups, took a spontaneous trip to Europe, and enrolled in a Yoga Teacher Training - all of which taught me new tools to protect my physical and mental well-being. And so I argue that our worth should not be measured by our productivity during periods of unemployment, but rather in the lessons we learned that made us better versions of ourselves.

One unintended benefit of the pandemic is that it shattered the facade that we are all high functioning and productive members of society 100% of the time. That’s just not reality. The truth is we are whole humans with a whole range of experiences and emotions that cannot be easily decoupled from the way we show up at work. 

As the world slowly returns to some semblance of “normal,” and especially as many people return to the workforce after their own extended absences, I challenge other leaders to use this as an opportunity to practice empathy. Instead of asking people to explain their resume gaps, can we instead ask them what they learned about themselves during this period? How have they grown? Can we offer more grace so that there isn’t an unspoken pressure to pad one’s resume with consulting jobs or freelance gigs that are sometimes just euphemisms for trying to find one’s way (like I have on my resume)?

Imagine if we had the freedom to admit, "yes, I struggled, but now I know myself and feel ready to get back into the world and make an impact” - without fear that it would negatively influence our employability. Imagine if we gave more credit to each other for having the bravery to admit that we are human and have experienced moments of humanity. If we didn’t feel the need to mask the challenges that shaped us, maybe it would make the corporate world a more inviting place to return to and show up as our full selves. 

As humans, I think we would all benefit from a world - both corporate and otherwise - that was a little more empathetic.