I still remember the morning of my first speaking engagement years ago. I had been mentally preparing for weeks, and was soo excited for this opportunity because I knew I was meant to do this work. During multiple guided somatic visualizations, I had seen a vision of myself holding a microphone (pregnant) on stage, and I knew deep down in my bones this was a great next step for me. 🤰🏻🎤 But the night before, I felt a tightening sensation in my stomach, tingly nervous energy in my arms and feet...and I wondered if I was actually ready.

I met my younger self for coffee today. She showed up stressed, her shoulders tight from carrying pressures and burdens she didn’t yet have words for. Chronic back pain made it hard for her to sit for more than ten minutes. I told her, your body is carrying so much. It won’t always be this way. She was in her 20s, feeling lost, chasing after security, success…a sense of worth and safety. But no matter what job, relationship, or city she ran to, she couldn’t sit still. She felt stuck, like her voice was buried somewhere deep inside. She longed to create, to express, but something blocked her. I told her, you’re carrying generations of silenced stories, but one day your voice will flow freely.

Being an eldest daughter and a 누나 (“noona,” or older sister) has been a huge part of my identity. I mean, how could it not? My earliest life memory is when I was 4 years old sitting in our Seoul apartment, wearing a ballet tutu and my Minnie Mouse headband, bottle-feeding my 6-month-old brother. It’s almost like my life began when my brother was born and I became a noona, according to my memory.