How Have You Changed In The Last 5 Years?
San Francisco, Community, and Skins We Shed Over Time.
Is it just me, or does 2022 seem like 3 years compressed into a single year?
The last time I sent this newsletter, my younger sister died the day after. Literally.
I had just announced how much the newsletter would become formalized and the different segments.
It’s not been a blur ever since. More like walking through mud. Slowly. Begrudgingly. Exhaustingly.
Each day bleeds into the other. The pain goes, then comes. Imaginings and ideas of what could have been.
Unable to fully articulate what I’m feeling, I march on. Not neglecting it, no. More in a form of acceptance that this is new territory, and I have no idea what rushing could cause me and those in my family who suffer too.
It’s two months today since she died.
If there’s anything I now understand, it’s this: you can’t understand what it’s like until you deal with it. And, there’s a certain camaraderie, an unspoken understanding between people who have lost that cannot be explained.
On the one hand, there are people who really, really want to help.
They try to be there, to show support as best as possible. It’s never enough. There’s a veil they can’t get past. It’s painful to watch someone trying hard and see their effort splash in vain as you drown in new sorrows that were unearthed before now.
On the other hand, people who have felt this pain don’t need to say much. It’s crazy that to express empathy fully, you have to know the pain yourself.
Maybe it’s just me. And I’m lucky I have both people in my circle.
I’ve concluded that whether someone knows pain or not, the work to feel is on me. It cannot be outsourced. And it’s this realization that allows me to receive words of support from others without the nagging thought that they don’t get it.
It’s very selfish. I’m more than aware. My sister’s death opened up things I had pushed to the side and allowed me to stare frankly at emotions I had suppressed and parts of me I had tamed in the name of growing up.
I love all of it. The way I can talk about why I can’t write and, in the same breath, think of dying without writing and wondering ( intently) if I’ll be okay with it.
My sister’s death is changing me. It’s changing us. My parents, my brother, and my youngest sister. It’s the kind of change I notice because it’s expected and because we all miss her in ways that we can’t put into words.
It’s a complete tragedy that she died and how she died. There’s no other way to put it. I can’t speak for everyone, surely. But I know that my youngest sister is probably the most hurt.
There’s a 4-year age gap between my younger brother and me, more so between my late sister and me, and the largest gap is with the last. They got to be friends while growing up as siblings. I was off to boarding school and Uni while they stayed close.
I’m not ignoring my loss when I say this: my brother and sister have lost more than I have. More memories, more dreams, more conversations.
It’s still unraveling. All of this.
Yet here’s the World Cup, Trump, people going back to work, others getting married, kids getting born, people winning awards, scholarships, etc.
Our sister is gone, and life still goes on. But for who?
Visiting San Francisco ( or 5 years of life in a bubble)
In August 2019, I was accepted as a volunteer for a TechCrunch Disrupt Event in California. If you know tech, you know that TechCrunch is a big deal regarding Tech Journalism. This trip was a big deal.
I didn’t make the trip for reasons I’d rather not talk about.
This letter is titled “How Have You Changed in the Past 5 Years?” because I finally got to visit California and realize something very important about life as an immigrant:
Be careful which bubble you pick to live in and listen to; it can dictate which career you choose, how much you earn, and your entire trajectory in your host country.
One of the biggest mistakes I made ( looking back now) was never going out of the bubble I found here. “Bubble” means the network of people I was connected to on a regular basis.
We all belong to different bubbles: college mates (e.g., St. Bede’s Ex-Students), work industry(e.g., Scrum, Salesforce, Startups), home town (e.g. Bamenda), etc.
When people move, they’re more likely to get into the bubbles of whoever their host here, is. And that’s exactly what happened to me.
It’s nothing wrong by itself. If you have no idea what you want to accomplish and how to accomplish this, bubbles can help you find a path. Your bubble often has people who think in a particular way and have accomplished particular things.
For example, if the people in your bubble believe that going to college and studying law is the most effective use of your opportunity as an immigrant, then you’re more likely to do this.
There’s a wonderful article that dives into this with more finesse that I think is definitely worth your time.
But Kamga, what has all this bubble life got to do with San Francisco?
San Francisco. When you call this city, you might as well add “expensive” because that’s what most people know about it.
This is why people would rather have nothing to do with it. For this reason, my friends who live there burst my bubble, and I realize that if I had made the trip in 2019, my life might have turned out completely differently.
It’s a sunny city. Home to Silicon Valley and a multitude of technological achievements. Nearly all the companies that have made strides in the past decade are located there. It’s also home to Stanford University.
I got to experience SF through the eyes and experience of people who were told it was a bad idea and how expensive it was. People who chose themselves and bet on their abilities ( and each other) to find a way.
I got to reflect on my options, and my bets. The life I could have had if I were still married and the one I have now, single and completely on my own.
Most importantly, I realized the importance of self-awareness in selecting which bubble you want to be a part of, take from, and contribute to.
Life is short.
This reality is ever present for me now. Life is also quite unpredictable. You can only make strategic bets and prepare for any outcomes. Life can also be long - which means that the choices you make ( or don’t make) put you on a very glaring trajectory after 5 -10 years.
If you looked back to the past 5 years, would you say you planned to be where you are now? Were you swayed by your bubble into a sphere you didn’t believe in? Did you choose a path you’re no longer proud of but can’t change?
Or, have you trudged along month to month without any care for the long-term ramifications of your choices?
True, you may have been in a bubble. But nothing stops you from changing it. Hell, nothing stops you from creating your bubble or finding a bubble you want to be a part of.
What was most glaring for me about San Francisco was that as expensive as the city was, there were people - like me - who could afford the life there and the perks that come with being in the mecca of tech in the US.
Granted, there are other hubs in the US, such as Austin, Seattle, and even New York, where people have found success and thrive.
But I want to point out here that if you rely only on other people’s experiences of a bubble, you may miss out on a bubble that was supposed to be yours.
And if you don’t plan out your life in decades, you could get caught up in week-to-week strife without being able to look back at a year and see that you are making progress.
You need some wins, man. You can’t keep working all year round, feeling inadequate, feeling like you’re running out of time.
The advantage of being in the right bubble and thinking in decades means that you allow your environment to nourish you ( the people, nature, etc.), and you also set goals that are far enough so that you can get down and work on them without feeling the pressure to measure progress every day.
Sometimes, it’s okay to work and know that you did today’s work. Remember the Chinese Bamboo tree.
You Must Be A Part of A Community
My sister’s death made it glaring to me that I had been isolated. I think after my divorce, I withdrew into myself. At a subconscious level, I didn’t have anyone I could count on, so I doubled down on myself. I couldn’t see the need for others in my life, and even if I spoke regularly with my family, it wasn’t as though I could go visit or have them take over my financial burden or create room for me to relax for a day or two.
I now see that although this works in the short term ( and is necessary in small doses), long-term isolation from community groups is detrimental to your self-esteem, self-image, and especially self-awareness.
There’s only so much that you can bounce in your head. You need a sounding board. It would help if you had people who could tell you that you’re paranoid, or that you’re crazy, or that you are NOT paranoid or crazy.
Most importantly, though, you need to feel like you are a part of something that would not be the same if you weren’t there.
This means you must be useful to this community, and it must be of use to you as well.
Family is a great place to start. But in my book, the family has no choice. They’re stuck with you because of blood. Which, as you are probably aware, makes this more complicated.
But the communities you build by choice ( or circumstance) can often prove more powerful.
I must stop here to clarify that this community is often a group with an underlying thread: ex-students, mates from college, etc. So, all your friends put together can’t be a community since the only commonality is you.
I’m a part of a discord group with people I’ve never physically met. Yet, we’re all connected by our interest in video games. I’ll be the first to say that although I’m part of the community, I’m not "cool” with everyone there. But those I’m cool with make it worth it.
My sister’s passing exposed this for me. How much I had neglected the communities, I had been a part of. How much I refused to be a passive member because I thought I was wasting my time.
One of my friends in San Fran reiterated this as well.
Bottomline: join a community or build one. Aim to be a useful member. That’s it. It matters. You can be a part of multiple communities. Big or small. Isolating yourself, no matter what is not a good long-term strategy.
The Skins We Shed Over Time
I started by asking why this year was so long. It feels that way because of the emotional depths I’ve been through. It’s been a personal journey to see how far I can go in pain and claw my way back.
I’ve had help. But mostly, I’ve felt like there’s no way anyone can help me get out of this except me.
I even started seeing a therapist. Only to realize that I may never get answers this way.
Man, I miss my sister. I miss everything I’ll never get to tell or do with her.
It’s a heavy loss. Each time I see her picture, my eyes get wet. I’ll watch a movie or anime, and someone dies in it, and I think of my sister.
I’ll literally be in the middle of some personal development rant, and I’ll think of memento mori, next thing I’m silent: thinking of my sister.
I’ve never had a loss like this. When my uncle died, I was 11. I knew him, but I didn’t know him like that.
This is my sister whose voice and jokes I still hear in my head.
I’ve not even been able to start thinking about what we’ll do with her social media accounts because I’m not the only one getting triggered like this.
Just seeing her name sets me back.
I’ll never be the same. I don’t want to be the same. The question is: who will I become now?
It’s scary, to be honest. I’ve already seen some of the consequences of her loss. I became very emotional. I expressed this in the form of anger, and it cost me my budding relationship. Then a few days ago, I realized I was probably best off on my own.
I’ve even gotten to the point where I’ve considered never being with anyone for the rest of my life.
Yeah. That’s how far my thoughts have gone on this.
I’m shedding parts of myself daily. Parts I didn’t even know existed. I’m questioning everything. Wondering what lies about myself, I believed; what lies were other people’s ideas of who I was supposed to be.
I can’t say I’m happy. But I can say I’m pleased.
I feel very alive. I miss my sister very much. And I am very hurt by the betrayals that have happened in succession from people I had opened up to.
And I feel very alive.
This means all that has happened, one way or the other, happened for good. That’s what I choose to believe. And I’m going to choose what to do with all of it.
I’ll shed as much skin as I need and pick my bubble and community. Then decide who I will be 5 years from now by God’s grace.
And you, what will you do with your one life? Which bubbles have you been a part of without even realizing it?
What have you done with the inevitable pain of life? And if you haven’t experienced such pain(yet), how are you preparing for it?
I’d love to read your reply.
Take care,
Hugues.
Kamga, it is a heavy load you carry. I lost a nephew two decades ago. It shattered my sister and I never got “her” back. The love is still there. I’m sorry about the betrayals. This last year I renounced trying to understand callous people. Whenever I ruminate, I remember my pledge. Love is there my friend, but the players will be different. Try a new deck❤️🩹
hey Kamga,Kamish. This is Sylvia,an old friend from home with a dusty hug that carries a familiar smell and shows how much time has passed. i hope you are less drowned.Thank you for sharing a piece of your soul. One day i hope i can share the storms i still feel over my nephew's passing.