my preference is not a pathology
my office this week #1
I’ve been searching KL for 3 weeks now, and I’m delighted to report that I’ve finally found it.
My flow zone.
The place where I can open up my laptop, and immediately drop into a state of electric, inspired focus.
Where I get so immersed in my work that time flies by. Where ideas race through me and my rate limiting factor is how quickly my fingers can navigate a Mexican keyboard to create coherent sentences.
Where did I find it?
Common Grounds Co working in Mont Kiara.
It was love at first pomodoro.
Bottomless espresso refills. Air conditioning cold enough to wrap myself in a sweater- a welcome relief from the sticky jungle air outside.
A giant window where storm clouds roll in over the skyscrapers while I sit nestled in a velvet booth.
There must be a German word for that feeling of:
Having a project you are excited to dive into
A large block of uninterrupted time
An aesthetic place to work
It might sound strange, but some of my favorite memories through my past 7 years of traveling have happened inside my flow zone.
The Angel-N-Us across from my apartment in South Korea where I posted up after school, to write blogs for The Turquoise Traveler.
The treehouse coworking space in San Cristobal, Mexico where the first draft of Residency Drop Out, poured out of me as I soaked in the fresh mountain air.
The marina restaurant at a yacht club in Montenegro where I spent day after day building my first digital product.
The Starbucks in Roma Norte in Decemeber 2020 doing hours of market research calls with physicians burned out from covid.
The places I’ve traveled are the backdrop. An ever changing green screen. My business is the constant through it all.
Most people don’t understand my level of dedication to my work.
“You’re working on a Sunday?”
“You should take a day off.”
“You need better work life balance”.
And honestly, I used to question it myself.
I spent most of my 20s in the library or in a hospital: compulsively throwing myself into my work.
Compulsive because it didn’t feel like a choice. Every waking moment needed to be spent in frantic pursuit of gold stars.
So naturally, I’ve wondered: is that what’s happening here?
Am I defaulting to old med school patterns?
Using work to fill a void?
Avoiding something?
Setting an unhealthy example for my clients?
But as I sat in Common Grounds, outlining my Move Like a Leader training and sketching out a venn diagram while classical music played in my headphones.
I closed my eyes and tuned into my body.
My shoulders were relaxed and open.
My breath was deep.
A warm tingly sensation rose in my chest.
I felt grounded.
At ease.
This didn’t feel like running
It didn’t feel like avoiding.
It felt steady.
And that’s when it hit me.
My business is my happy place.
The reason I rarely need to take a full day off isn’t because I’m addicted to work.
It’s because my work regulates me.
I am my best self, when I’m outlining a podcast, designing a curriculum, coaching my clients.
When I’m working I feel:
most like ME.
most alive.
So, no it doesn’t need to be toxic” to want to work 7 days a week.
I don’t need to pathologize my desire to build and create.
I don’t need to measure it against someone else’s definition of balance.
I’ve created a business that feels like home.
Of course I want to spend time there.
We’re all wired differently.
For you, waking up at sunrise feels like a sacred self-love ritual.
For someone else, nourishment looks like sleeping in.
You go to yoga to find peace.
Someone else finds that same steadiness in a Sunday morning church pew.
Training for a marathon keeps you disciplined and strong.
For someone else, that same structure would tip into restriction and obsession.
The behavior isn’t the pathology.
The yardstick is.
Your preferences only become “unhealthy” when you measure them against someone else’s nervous system.
So what if we stopped diagnosing each other’s rhythms?
What if we trusted our own discernment?
What if we gave ourselves permission to want what we want — without explaining it, defending it, or shrinking it?
As Mary Oliver wrote:
“You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.”
Do you struggle to trust your preferences? Especially if they differ from what is considered “normal” or “healthy” to others?