Distrupting Myself

We like to believe that life has a rhythm.

A way forward.

A way up.

For a while, I followed that rhythm.

I started at JP Morgan,

moved to IBM where I learned tech and sales,

then pivoted to marketing at Microsoft.

Each move came with a bigger title,

a broader regional scope,

and a more polished résumé.

On the surface,

it looked like the perfect drive.

But underneath,

there was always a quiet question:

"Is this really my road?"

Disrupting Myself — Before the World Did

I lived with constant restlessness.

Not because I wasn’t doing well —

but because something always felt incomplete.

So I pushed myself.

Beyond what was comfortable.

Beyond what was familiar.

I left the familiar path of Korea to live and study in London.

It wasn’t just a career move —

it was a conscious step to reframe my thinking and grow beyond the familiar.

Every day,

I met people who were smarter, faster, and more accomplished.

I began to ask:

"Who am I in this game?"

Even as I pushed myself to level up,

the bar only rose higher.

And slowly,

I realized:

I was no longer enjoying the work I was doing.

The Cost of Doing What Worked

Despite the restlessness,

things on paper looked good.

At Microsoft,

I led big projects,

earned recognition,

and finally got the promotion I had been working toward.

For a moment,

it felt like I had arrived.

But three months later,

an email changed everything.

A global layoff.

10% of the workforce — gone.

Including my team.

The promotion, the team, the achievements —

none of them could protect me.

For the first time,

I had to ask myself:

"What was I really working for?"

And for the first time,

I had no answer.

The Pause That Changed Me

I decided to take a break —

a real break.

Not a vacation.

Not a sabbatical disguised as productivity.

A full year.

I moved to Chiang Mai,

joined the digital nomad community,

and for the first time,

stopped chasing.

I met people from all over the world —

people building companies from scratch,

switching careers,

starting over.

I tried to learn new skills —

blockchain, coding, entrepreneurship.

But more than anything,

I learned this:

All the skills I had built inside big companies only mattered inside those systems.

Outside?

I was back to zero.

No infrastructure.

No brand behind my name.

Just me.

Finding My Own Road

But slowly,

people started asking me questions.

How do you build a Go-to-Market strategy?
How do you design a customer journey?

At first,

I hesitated.

I didn’t think I had anything special to offer.

But the more I shared,

the more I realized:

I wasn’t empty. I was carrying a blueprint.

The systems and structures I had once taken for granted —

startups needed them.

They just didn’t know how to build them yet.

And maybe,

that was where I could start.

Taking Back the Steering Wheel

I returned to Korea

and joined a startup —

a company that wanted to go global,

that needed to build their Go-to-Market strategy from the ground up.

There were no playbooks.

No guidelines.

No guarantees.

Just the opportunity to build —

from scratch.

At first,

it felt overwhelming.

But over time,

I realized:

All those years of being a passenger — watching, learning, waiting — had given me the fuel to finally drive.

This time,

on my own road.

At my own speed.

In my own direction.

Hop in. Let’s drive — together.

I’m still driving.

Still learning.

Still building.

And if you’re somewhere between maps right now —

uncertain, restless, questioning —

know this:

You’re not lost.

You’re just on a different kind of road.

Hop in.

Let’s drive — together.