On my 43rd birthday, I got butt hurt. It’s only been a week since then and I’m still a mess.
On the mental wellbeing aspect, a lot was going through my mind that morning. I joined my local running club for an 11-mile run and as much fun it is to talk and enjoy my peers’ company, I kept thinking in the back of my mind about my past, present, and with some anxiety, my future. This era of my early 40’s has been filled with more uncertainty. The pandemic. Anti-Asian sentiment. Mass shootings. My career. My health. And if the things I’m passionate about will endure. That’s a lot to process.
But for the past 6 months, since I left my corporate career, I’ve been in an awkward stage. For the first time in over two decades, I didn’t have any deadlines or a manager to tell me that I need to work on a project that will take over my evenings and weekends. I could actually think and focus on myself. What do I want out of life? How can I provide for my family over the next few decades? What does God want me to focus on?
The inner voice of optimism reminds me that if I can summarize this new season of life in one word, it’s “progress.” My skills and artistic abilities have undoubtedly improved. Coming from zero training, to drawing nearly everyday the past several months — there is really only one direction to go. Up. And I’m proud of my latest project. It was an ambitious goal to not only recreate my man cave, but also the 12 comic books mounted on my wall.
On top of developing my artistic skills, I’ve learned to slow down. Go on nice walks with the wife. Read out loud The Hobbit and other geeky books to the kids for longer sessions prior to kissing them good night. Catch up on some films and TV series I’ve missed the past several years. Walk Momo (our orange tabby cat) outside without worrying about being late for a meeting. Read more books. Exercise. Enjoy cooking for the family my favorite recipe, Kelaguen (a Chamorro chicken dish I learned from one of my best friends in college).
In essence, I’ve been taking extra care of myself and I’m happier.
But as much I love illustrating and funemployment, there is another force that haunts me. Is it fear? Doubt? Reality? I keep thinking – is a full-time illustrator career viable for someone like me? Sustainable? How can I break into this industry? And that’s where my confidence is not strong. There are so many more talented people out there who are barely able to pay their bills. Much less thriving as a full-time artist. I know this because for the first 3 months of funemployment, I’ve been meeting up with an illustrator nearly every week. And the majority, I discovered, have a spouse who provides for them, or a side career, most often, a full-time alternative career to sustain their lifestyle.
So with my current season of life of marriage, family, mortgage, and the high costs of living in California, I’ve made the decision to not pursue illustration full-time anymore. Since January, I’ve been a part-time consultant for a few companies which has been productive. I’ve also been day trading. Both have been quite lucrative in the mornings and give me the afternoons to pursue my creative projects. But is this predictable, stable income? Not at all and I recognize there is immense value in stability, predictable income, and benefits while pursuing illustrating. So I’ve been applying for a few roles and am interviewing.
Am I disappointed with the outcome of my 6-month experiment of leaving corporate work? No, if anything I found that the sacrifices I made in the past to advance my career and increase my net worth – these things are not as appealing anymore. And that’s why I’m not planning to return to the leadership roles I’ve held the past few years that demanded much of my time and energy beyond normal business hours. Rather, if I return to the corporate career I left behind, I’m more likely to pursue mid-level roles and focus on the aspects of employee communications I absolutely love. That way, I’ll have more opportunities and energy to continue drawing, spending quality time with my family, and enjoying life.
So when it comes to mental wellbeing, career, and passions, I know I’ll be fine. That’s not what got me butt hurt on my birthday. No, it’s something more horrifying.
The problem started with that 11-mile group run I completed on my birthday morning. I felt amazing. The running club introduced me to a new hilly run and it really tested my body. I even had to temporarily walk the steepest uphills. I knew I was going to be sore later on.
But there is a family birthday tradition I did not expect would be the end of me. It’s called flag football. My siblings and I and our kids always look forward to our pickup games. I cherish these moments as our children continue to grow up, become stronger, run faster, and perform bolder plays every year. This year, my eldest nephew, Tyler, my daughter, Maya, and I were playing against my brother, Mark, his second son, Ethan, my son, Jeremy, and my sister Em. Em was covering me and she and I are about the same athletic build so it was going to be difficult to get a completion with her on me.
And my competitive nature got the best of me. It didn’t matter if I already had a long run in the morning. I’m going to be a contributing member to my team. I can’t let Tyler or Maya down. We have to win! So I sprinted harder than I normally do. Tyler was our quarterback and saw me gaining distance from Em. He threw the ball over everyone’s heads and I caught it. But I was still a good five feet away from the touchdown area. I saw Ethan’s and Em’s hands inches away from grabbing my flags. Instinctively, I moved. Faster than I anticipated. And I forgot that the last 5 feet of the touchdown border was a grassy hill.
I took two powerful steps to climb the slope, crossed the touchdown line, and then there was a lot of noise. My team erupted with hoots and cheers. My opponents groaned. And I screamed.
Yes, I screamed.
Never before have I felt a sharp, intense pain coming my Gluteus Maximus. My freaking ass! I couldn’t bend over and my hands immediately grabbed my butt as I was in so much pain. Immediately, everyone stopped their shouting and stared at me. I was in agony. And then, came the humiliation. With my eyes closed because I was hurting so much, all I heard was laughter. And I could not blame them. How often do you see a grown man screaming while standing up and tightly holding his butt cheeks?
While the laughter and giggles continued, I finally fell to the ground and just let the pain subside. It only took a few minutes but it felt like an hour because I heard Mark’s phone taking photos and recording this ridiculous moment. Em, as a physical therapist, was making sure I stretch properly to help reduce the tightening of my muscles. There were concerned comments but for the most part, laughter filled the air. It was hell.
Thankfully, I was able to walk shortly after. But I was done. No more running for the day. No more football. Lots of foam rolling in the near future. Tyler and the team, in honor of my sacrifice, officially declared themselves as “Team Cheeks” and continued playing without me. We won in the end. But let’s be real: years from now, no one will remember how many touchdowns were completed or who was victorious that day. No, the real winner is the person who can make the best butt pun. So I guess you could say, I’m sitting pretty now.