"Would people still trust what I know without the title?"

Jess is a Taiwanese American and a mom of a cute toddler. Also a former marketing and communications executive for global consumer brands. She’s currently a solopreneur specialising in narrative strategy for founders, execs, and creatives, and also an adjunct instructor at a university. I discovered her on Substack when her first post named “On leaving a job I worked really (really) hard for,” popped up on my feed. I read it and commented, explaining how much I could relate to her experience. We followed each other. When I was looking for people keen to share answers to my questions, she wanted to join in and share her story.

If I followed you around for a normal day, what would I see?

You’d see a strangely corporate schedule for a non-corporate person—ha! 6:30am-8:30am family time and getting my son ready for daycare. A lot of negotiating and chasing him down with bites of his breakfast. Building magnetiles and singing “It’s a small world.”

9:00am-11:50am on the laptop, matcha in hand, working on my communications and narrative consultancy, invisiblethingsco.com. Again, strangely corporate—calls, decks, emails.

11:52am realizing I’m going to be late to my workout, so I quickly chug my pre-workout even though I’ve already had too much caffeine.

12pm-1pm functional workout—weights because midlife=muscle loss!! Lift ladies, lift!

1pm-3:30pm shower, lunch, more sitting and typing, realizing I haven’t had enough water, so I chug some. I know I shouldn’t chug—that’s pointless hydration

3:30pm-5:00pm working on my class lecture or grading student work. I’m an adjunct instructor at a university.

4:40pm two questions all the time: should I cook? Or DoorDash?

5:30pm-8:00pm a replica of the morning family time but with bath and bedtime negotiations.

8:00pm-11pm catch up with my partner, work. These days, I still feel like I don’t have enough time to work and get all my stuff in. I am supposed to be on a sabbatical.

11:30pm realizing I didn’t run any of my errands while I’m attempting to read. My teeth still need a cleaning, the old clothes still need to be donated, and my Amazon purchases are about to have a permanent home in my house. I’d feel a twinge of confusion about why I haven’t booked that massage or haircut that I so desperately need.

12:00am doom scroll, but on YouTube. I am trying to move up my bedtime. It turns out bedtime procrastination is not an issue for me because of stress or work–I just never feel like I have enough time to do what I want to do.

How many different “versions” of a career or life have you tried on?

I’ve had a fairly linear career—same expertise but different industries. I went from beauty to pharma to restaurants. The big shift was this year when I decided to start my consultancy, but I would say this period is less about being a solopreneur and more about being a multi-hyphenate.

This time away from corporate is my time to experiment with the things I’ve always wanted to do. Now, I’m doing narrative strategy (fancy word for storytelling) for a living, working on a horror children’s book, teaching at a university, and daydreaming about doing something in fashion.

Life try-ons are more plentiful. My family moved from Taiwan to the U.S. when I was in elementary school. I tried being the invisible kid, then the hyper-involved-in-school teen, and then the hustle-till-you-drop college student. Since then, I just worked and worked. As stressed as I was in each job, I loved my career, and I even loved the climb. Each offered a lesson and experience that led to the next. That journey gives me hope in this messy middle phase – that there will be many lessons and this experience will lead to the next, just like it always has. I just have to go for it.

I suppose different lives or versions are more internal, where I feel like I’ve gone through many versions of myself; though on the outside, the shifts may feel slight and typical of a young adult transitioning to adulthood’s many seasons. The shifts are in the narrative I’d write myself and rewrite little by little.

What are you mid-experiment with right now? What’s sticking and what isn’t?

I am testing whether I can build a life around several kinds of meaningful work rather than one title, AND to prioritize well-being more. Everything I’m doing now (writing, teaching, consulting, hobbying) are all experiments.

Most of my artsy hobbies have not survived. I’m finally ok with it.

It’s only been five months, so almost everything else has stuck, but I feel my energy and motivation slipping. It’s hard to be patient. That is my number one flaw—my lack of patience makes me want to run the other way, back to comfortability and the traditional definition of success. Just this month, I’ve been thinking about stopping Substack. This is more about optimizing time (again, corporate life habits) but also probably trying to protect my heart (or is it ego?) because I’m not sure if my essays are resonating. I spend too much time on them. While feeling all this, I’m reminding myself—this platform is my journal. And my audience of 32 forever has a special place in my heart. So grateful.

What’s making you angry lately, about your work, the world, or yourself?

I am angry at myself for not feeling the drive to go all in on building a personal brand the typical way. I’ve seen the power of going all in and am literally in this line of work, but I just want to do it another way. Yet I am angry at how slow my momentum is. It’s a cyclical pattern of hypocrisy. Lol.

I am angry about current politics and the lack of gun control and safety in the U.S. I am angry about the lack of corporate benefits and policies around family building, women’s health, and childcare. And within these macrotopics, I can go on forever. I’ll spare you and keep it at this.

What’s a fear that’s been steering your decisions lately?

The fear that my authority belonged to the institutions I worked for more than it belonged to me. Without the title, team, or recognizable company, would people still trust what I know?

That fear can make me hedge. It makes me keep several doors open, overprepare, and look for external proof before fully backing myself. The work of this chapter is discovering what remains when the borrowed power disappears.

Have you ever failed at something you were worried about failing at? What happened afterwards?

Before I became a mom, I was worried about “failing at” staying in corporate leadership and operating at the same level when a child came into my life.

When I had my son, the fear of that particular failure was always on my mind. Then a major corporate chapter ended in a way I had feared and worked very hard to prevent. At first, it felt like evidence that I just couldn’t cut it. I felt shame before I felt relief. But the mom-bit was only a part of it. So much of why that chapter ended was because of the environment, a shift internally to live more values-aligned, and maybe just a destined time for change. Now, I so firmly, firmly believe that it has nothing to do with capability and everything to do with capacity. And capacity is a very neutral thing.

What happened afterwards brings us to the now—me, here, answering this QA in the middle of this messy middle/reinvention/excavation/liminal space era of my life.

What do you want people to remember about how you lived, not just what you did?

I want people to remember that I helped them see something in themselves that they could not yet see, that I told the truth without making people feel small, that I used whatever authority I had to create room for other people.

Most of all, I want my family to remember that I was present. Not always accomplishing something. Not perpetually working. Present enough to notice the ordinary moments that make up a very interesting life.

What’s a role you’ve played very well for a very long time that you forgot you were even playing?

The capable one.

I anticipate what people need, absorb uncertainty, translate complexity, and make things work. I became so good at being useful that I forgot usefulness was a role, not my identity. Competence gave me safety and belonging, but it also made it difficult to admit when I was overwhelmed, angry, scared, or simply did not want to carry something anymore.

What in your current life feels aligned and misaligned with your core values right now?

Before leaving my corporate career over the last year or so, there were big gaps in how much agency and voice I wanted in my life. Work and achievement are top values of mine, and those were doing just fine, but they ended up crowding out everything else that mattered. When I became a mom, I kept on wondering if family should be higher on my values list.

My life now is structured around closing that values gap between my ideal life and “current” life. The sense of agency and voice are much more aligned, but achievement has fallen to an all-time low. The work now is understanding how I can feel a sense of achievement without the built-in structure of work. If I peel back the inner critic and just look at the facts, I’ve achieved and accomplished a lot in this break, but I haven’t really allowed myself to feel the joy or celebrate it. I tell myself “be proud,” but it’s so dang hard to really take it to heart! I’m working on it.

Have you ever said or done something you felt was right, but now realize was actually a mistake and caused harm?

I used to believe endurance was a form of integrity. If I could carry something, I assumed I should. If a situation was difficult, I thought gritting through it proved my character.

That belief hurt me, but it also affected the people around me. There were times when I translated organizational pressure into urgency and called it excellence. The team members that I’ve trained and developed also have become the capable ones. Then at home, my family received whatever energy remained after work. I understand now that being able to survive something does not mean continuing to survive it is the right choice.

What’s a thought you actively avoid thinking about?

I think I can’t help but actively think about everything that worries me. There’s no avoidance in my head lol! If the question is what’s a thought you are most scared of facing, it would be “what if I never live up to my greatest potential.”

If you ask me what my greatest potential is defined as, I can’t confidently tell you in words because it’s more of a feeling. It’s a splenic feeling that says, “There’s something more. This isn’t it.” When that thought appears, I start measuring and calculating. I search for jobs, revise the business, compare myself with people who appear more established, and try to solve the next five years in one afternoon. Underneath all that activity is a simpler fear that maybe the only way was the old way, and I just walked away from it.

What are the inner demons that stop you from doing or being everything you want?

Self-doubt disguised as discernment. Perfectionism disguised as standards. Hypervigilance disguised as preparation. The classic angel on one shoulder and demon on the other, but both can coexist and are true.

Is there a part of yourself you keep hidden from the people who love you most?

The part that wants to be taken care of.

I am comfortable being the person who anticipates, solves, and steadies. It is harder for me to be visibly needy, uncertain, or dependent. Even with people who love me unconditionally, I sometimes present the processed version of what I am feeling rather than letting them witness the unfinished version.

Have you ever hurt someone and never really apologized, but it still haunts you today?

No, and I’m grateful for it. I’m quick to take accountability and also have enough conviction to know that some things and some people are meant to be left alone and in the past.

What’s something you avoid even trying, purely so you never have to find out you’d fail at it?

I think I’m trying the things that I really don’t want to find out I’d fail at. Lol. Building a consistent public body of work under my own name.

I know how to create visibility for companies and other leaders. Doing it for myself is different because the market is no longer judging a campaign. It is judging me. As long as the YouTube channel, essays, or larger creative projects remain ideas, I can preserve the possibility that they would have been good. Publishing removes that protection, but I’m doing it anyway.

What’s a version of your life you gave up on? Do you still grieve it, or are you at peace with it now?

I gave up on the clean, linear version of success: keep climbing, become a C-suite executive, earn more every year, and let the title explain who I am. I still grieve parts of it. I miss the certainty, the scale, the income, and the feeling of being immediately legible to other people. I am at peace with giving up the idea that climbing is automatically progress. I am less certain that I have given up corporate leadership forever. If I return, I want it to be a choice rather than a rescue.

I don’t think giving up on something now means I’d never try it again. I may go back to corporate as life is hopefully long, but I do want to give up the linear view of success and identity forever.

What do you think happens after we die, and how does that belief shape the choices you make while you’re alive?

After we die, we will reincarnate and/or become a spirit guide or angel guide if you’ve lived enough lifetimes to resolve your karma. I wonder if you can be both at the same time given the multi-dimensional nature of that space.

How does this shape the choices in this life? I don’t run away from challenges because I know this is the karma I have to resolve in this lifetime. I will go through the trial fully — heart, mind, and soul — to learn something, to help myself and others in this life but also the next. I see every relationship as a fated encounter. We were meant to meet, and you’re important. Importance isn’t defined by length of time or even depth of relationship; it could be a moment of mattering or a catalyst that propelled me and my life in a certain direction.

What irritates you in other people that you suspect reflects your own experience or shortcomings?

Performative certainty. People who take up enormous amounts of space without appearing to question whether they have earned it.

I suspect it bothers me because I have spent so much of my life doing the opposite. I overprepare, qualify what I know, and wait for permission. Some of my irritation is legitimate. Some of it is envy toward people who possess a freedom I have not yet given myself.

Have you ever felt pity for yourself, even when you knew it was a bit silly?

This one is really silly, but I pity the future mom me when my son reaches his teen years and calls me “bitch” for the first (and only!!!) time or stops talking to me for no reason other than boy hormones.

What’s next? In what direction do you intend to move now, and how confident are you in it?

I am testing whether a plural career can be both meaningful and financially real. That includes building my consultancy, teaching, writing and publishing, and making room for creative work. The real test is not whether people like the idea. It is whether the right clients will pay for the work at a sustainable level and whether I can build it without recreating the life I left.

I am confident in the direction and less attached to the form. I know I want more voice, agency, creativity, and presence. I do not yet know whether the final shape is entrepreneurship, corporate leadership, or some combination of both.

Is there a specific section in a song, movie, or book that changed the trajectory of your life?

I love this question so much because I have so many. I’d like to share two!

First Wives Club – the whole movie changed my life and shaped my view on feminism, gender roles at home and at work, agency, and friendships. The last scene where Golden Hawn, Bette Midler, and Diane Keaton are in all white and singing, “You don’t own me” is my anthem.

You’ve Got Mail – so many classic lines, but this movie sparked my dream to move to New York. Eventually, I did, at 28 years old.

Mid-Experiment is a series of long-form interviews with people who are building their lives intentionally rather than defaulting into them. Career switchers, job quitters, life experimenters, and people who want to see what else is out there for them.

Designing a life is mostly guesswork done in private, and these interviews are here to make someone else’s guesswork and uncertainties about building the life they want visible. If you’re able to relate, resonate, or get useful insights into someone else’s messy middle, then the series achieved its goal.

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