Grieving is a strange thing. Perhaps we have been taught to wipe our tears and move on from an early age. Or maybe that it is not that important. It could also be that we have very well-meaning people in our lives telling us to only focus on the positives and turn away from the negative. But without acknowledging the negative and drawing lessons from it, we risk not understanding teachable moments.
I am walking away from a strange 13 years of trying hard to break through journalism. I am not the greatest writer nor have I been taught to write. I enjoy sharing and communicating. Success was always elusive, frustratingly so. I was recognized within my industries but never outside. My wife would get public recognition for her amazing work. It is noble, but so is mine. I did not get that public recognition. I guess I wanted, after all, hiding under false modesty. Instead, I had to deal with trolls, those nasty people who hide behind the anonymity of their keyboard never revealing their faces or real names. They take cheap personal shots at you, the messenger. It was brutal, painful, and frustrating.
Eventually, after 13 years of dubious work, making little to no money and the constant humiliation of not being financially independent, California AB5 and COVID-19 stopped dead in its track that career. No more publishers save for one. Although my favorite, it is the one that pays the least. POtentials came knocking at my door, tantalizing me with eventualities that never materialized. I was flown all over the world from China to Croatia, most of Europe, and, of course, the US. I was flown business class to land a day in Beijing, off to Taiwan the next, southwest China the following day, Korea after, and Los Angeles in five days.
