Naming Burnout And Losing Choice

Vulnerable Leadership In The Room

Going Back To Korea To Heal

Jeju Stillness And A New Legacy

The Lesson And The Hard Stop

SPEAKER_00 0:26

So three weeks ago, something happened to me that I almost didn't share publicly. So I was in the middle of leading a small group workshop, about 15 people, my own conference room right here, and my body told me it was done. I had a choice to make, and what I chose changed everything that came after. So it was a small group, 15 people, physicians and practice owners sitting around the conference room table, right? People who had flown in specifically for this workshop, mastermind level, high trust, intimate. And in the middle of facilitating the room, suddenly felt my heart started racing. Palpitations running between 100 to 120 beats per minute. My blood pressure I checked, I got scared, and it was climbed to uh 150 over 110. So as a physician, I knew exactly what those numbers meant. And I kept going anyway, not because I didn't feel it, because I felt like stopping wasn't an option. So I felt like no exit, no alternative. I mean, these people were counting on me, and I told myself I had no choice but to push through. That's what I want you to hear, not the numbers, the feeling that I had no choice. Because that feeling, that sense that you cannot stop no matter what your body is telling you, that is exactly what burnout does. You know, it doesn't just exhaust you, it takes away your perception of choice. So after that session ended, I made a decision I hadn't planned to make. I basically told the attendees. I told my members, I sat around the same table with the people I'm supposed to lead, and I told them exactly what had just happened to me. The symptoms, the numbers, and the fact that I had been running on empty for longer than I wanted to admit. I was vulnerable in a room where I am always the one holding things together. And what happened next, I did not expect. So every single person resonated with me one by one. Some of them actually gave me a hug. They opened up about their own exhaustion as well, their own symptoms they'd been ignoring, their own moments of pushing through when everything in them was saying stop. So I thought I was alone in it. I wasn't. And the moment I said it out loud, actually a lot of things changed. So that session became something none of us had planned for. Not coaching, not content, just a room full of high performers finally being honest with each other about what it actually costs to keep performing. So my mastermind members didn't just support me that day, they reminded me that vulnerability in leadership is not weakness. It might be the whole point. After the event, I booked a flight to South Korea and turned everything off. You know, actually, that was supposed to be a spring break vacation, my family vacation, but the whole purpose kind of changed within me. You know, I grew up in South Korea, right? I left my country at 19 to come to the United States. Of course I'm a U.S. citizen now, and I hadn't gone back the way I needed to in a long time. Here's what made it possible. The systems I'd spent years building, my practice, my team, my infrastructure and businesses, they kept running without me. Not one thing collapsed. So two weeks completely offline, and the business held. That's what I teach, and for the first time I actually let it work for me. Going back to Korea wasn't a simple vacation, it was going home to recover. So there's something that happens when you land in a country you grew up in. Your nervous system remembers it before your mind does. I walked streets I hadn't walked since I was a teenager. Neighborhoods that held a version of me from before any of this, before the degrees, before businesses, the weight of it all. The markets pull me back into my body faster than anything else. Not just the restaurants, but the real markets, local markets, grandmothers selling vegetables they grew themselves, food that loud and messy and extraordinary, strangers eating shoulder to shoulder, you know, bumping each other with no agenda whatsoever. So I ate a lot and I didn't optimize a single thing. And also, midway through the trip, we went to Jeju Island. So Jeju Island is like, think of it as Hawaii, but Korean. Volcanic rocks, open ocean, a pace of life that is completely different from the mainland. The place we stayed was a Zen-inspired Airbnb location. It's quiet, secluded, with a beautiful garden that felt designed to force stillness. So I sat outside one morning and just noticed things. The sound of wind, water, the light through the Zen pine trees, the young bamboo trees, dark green one and black bamboos, no urgency anywhere. I hadn't felt that in months, maybe years. I realized I had been living in constant forward motion, next goal, next problem, next deliverable, next thing to build. And somewhere in all of that motion, I had completely lost the ability to just be still. So that garden healed something I didn't know was broken. So the rest of the trip was kind of family. Real meals, conversations with no destination, laughter that came from nowhere. So before we left, we visited also one of Seoul's historic palaces from dynasty called Chosen Dynasty. Structures standing for hundreds of years, through wars, through occupation, through reinvention. Being there, I thought about legacy in a way I hadn't before. Not metrics, not revenue. What am I actually modeling for people around me? What does a full life look like? So these kind of questions followed me all the way home. But here's what I came back with. Your body is not just an asset, it is the foundation everything else is built on. And if you keep ignoring what it's telling you, eventually it stops asking and starts deciding for you. I also came back knowing that the most powerful thing I did at that event wasn't the content I taught. It was telling the truth about what was happening to me. Because every single person in that room needed to hear it and needed permission to say it themselves. And I came back with proof that the way I've built my life actually works. Because I walked away for two weeks and nothing collapsed. That's not luck. That's the point of everything I teach. So here's what I want to say to you. If you're pushing through symptoms right now, hear this. Stop. Not after the next milestone, not when things slow down. It's now. Rest is not a reward you earn after you've ground yourself down far enough. It's a requirement. And taking care of yourself is not a detour from the work. It is the essential element of the work. I went back to where I came from. I ate good food, I hung out with my high school best friends, I sat in a quiet garden and let myself actually heal. And I came back ready, not just to work, but to live. So if this resonated with you, share it with someone who needs to hear it. And if you're building a practice that gives you real freedom, not just revenue, subscribe to my channel. That's what we talk about here. I'll see you in the next one.