Life Advice

I know how it feels to die many times and yet, miraculously survive. I’ve gone through this so many times that when it happens now, the feeling of going under catches me off guard for a minute, then I collect myself, and remind myself, “We’ve been through this before. It’s okay. We will survive.”

If you’ve ever had a panic attack, then you know what I’m talking about. You get the rapid heart palpitations; you lose feeling in your hands, arms, feet, and face; you feel like you can’t breathe; and at the same time, you feel like you’re going to black out. So many people end up in the ER or call 911 because they think they’re having a heart attack when really, they’re having a panic attack.

Now imagine having these mini-deaths nearly every week, sometimes several times a day, for seven years. That was me from the age of 22 to 29. Then I found an amazing therapist (shout-out to Dr. K!) that helped me heal and recover from this condition called anxiety and panic disorder and my life changed forever.

So, you can imagine my surprise when this difficult period in my life from decades ago helped me land my new job as Program Coordinator for The Stability Network, a non-profit using storytelling to end mental health stigma in the workplace. I’ve been in this job for exactly one month and I’m still pinching myself and wondering, is this real? Am I really doing this?

You see, after 11 years of self-employment, I never thought I’d get another job. Actually, I tried for several years to get a job and my applications and scarce interviews resulted in nothing. But this July, after reading the job ad for the Program Coordinator job, I felt renewed hope and motivation. I decided to change everything: cut my resume from two pages to one, rewrite it, and take a completely different tactic with my cover letter.

Here’s the second paragraph from my cover letter.

I’ve never disclosed my mental health background to any of my employers, but since TSN is about removing the stigma around mental health, I feel safe to share this. I’ve had anxiety and panic disorder since I was 22. It wasn’t until I was hired at the University of Washington (UW), and finally had access to comprehensive health insurance, that I received the help I needed. Through working with a therapist specializing in cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT), I learned what was happening with my mind and body, and practiced techniques that greatly decreased my anxiety. For the past 20 years, I’ve managed my anxiety through CBT techniques, meditation, and nutrition. Anxiety does not keep me from living my best life.

It was taking this risk with my cover letter that helped me to apply, get two interviews, and receive a job offer in just 24 DAYS.

I couldn’t be happier. The mission of The Stability Network perfectly aligns with my passion for storytelling, educating people, and fighting for the underdog. My coworkers, Melanie and Megan, are possibly the kindest, most compassionate, and least jaded people I have ever worked with. And I get to work from home four out of five days every week.

I wouldn’t be in this job had I not had all those panic attacks 20+ years ago and then wrote about it in my application. I am not someone who believes in the phrase, “everything happens for a reason”–I’m not a fan of that motto at all–but sometimes, difficult times can lead to something good. I’m living proof that it can happen.

Peg Cheng is the author of Rebel Millionaire, a guide for how to retire as a millionaire even if you make a modest income, and The Contenders, a novel that asks, can enemies become friends? She is also the proud owner of Plaid Frog Press with her husband Marcus Donner. Born in Southern California to Taiwanese parents, Peg currently lives in Seattle, Washington.

Photo by Kristine Weilert

If you read my Tarot Touchstone for August, you may remember that I wrote, “At any time, things can change, sometimes to such a degree that you wonder how you ever thought things were always going to be the same.”

Well, dear readers, that exact thing happened to me this month.

I’m heading to a new shore on Monday.

After 11 years of self-employment, I’m starting a NEW JOB!

Yep, you heard that right. I’m starting a new job. Wow, I’m still having a hard time believing it myself. I’m both excited and nervous about it, but mostly excited.

I will tell you more about it later after I’ve been on the job for a while, but I wanted to share the good news with you now before I embark on this new adventure.

If you’re traversing the liminal space, please know that you are not alone. I just came out of a loooooong liminal space and girl, I know how hard it can be to keep going when the future is unknown and things feel uncertain.

Remember, the liminal space is a waystation, it’s not forever. You will get through it. And, at any time, everything can change.

Peg Cheng is the author of Rebel Millionaire, a guide for how to retire as a millionaire even if you make a modest income, and The Contenders, a novel that asks, can enemies become friends? She is also the proud owner of Plaid Frog Press with her husband Marcus Donner. Born in Southern California to Taiwanese parents, Peg currently lives in Seattle, Washington.

Some people want to keep you small.

And some people don’t realize they’re keeping you small, but they still do it.

Whether it’s the first reason or the second reason, the result is the same: you never bloom.

Let me tell you my story.

I came into my people’s life as a beautiful, young orchid. I had golden yellow flowers streaked with fine lines of deep maroon. My leaves were strong and deep green. I was in my prime. I felt I could take on the world.

That was eight years ago.

The first month or two was wonderful. My people admired me on most days and kept me on a window ledge in the living room where I got a good daily dose of delicious sunlight. It was glorious!

I was happy. Other orchids from the greenhouse had warned me about how negligent humans could be. Even though we hadn’t been out in the world yet, the humans that raised us would share stories about it and shake their heads. I felt so lucky that I had found a good home with good humans.

At some point, my flowers fell off. This didn’t scare me–other orchids had told me in the greenhouse that this was our natural process and I shouldn’t be scared of it–but I noticed that it made my people sad. I tried to tell them it was okay but they couldn’t hear me.

Then one day, the woman moved me to the bathroom. For some reason, she thought I needed humidity and moist air. But the bathroom was dark. Gone was the delicious light. I started to pull inward. Next thing I knew, there were tiny little bugs all over me. It scared me! Again, I tried to tell my humans I needed to get out of there, but they didn’t listen.

Even though the dark place was not good for me, and I was scared, I kept reaching for the light. I did all my best to grow, grow, grow. My leaves started to turn yellow and fall off, but my roots got bigger and longer. I tried my best to reach out and show the humans that I needed light. But they still didn’t listen.

Finally, after the bugs wouldn’t go away, the woman moved me out of the bathroom and back downstairs. I was so excited, I almost dropped a leaf just to show her how much. But instead of putting me back on the window ledge that I’d dreamed of for months, she put me on an end table in a corner. This place was dark, but not as dark as the bathroom. It was an improvement and I was grateful that I could finally get some light, even though it was never quite enough.

Things improved when the bugs finally went away, but something about being on the end table made the humans forget about me. The man never paid attention to me at all. In his eyes, I was gone. And the woman would often forget to water me, but when she would remember, she’d give me too much. I’d be parched one minute and drowning the next. To make matters worse, my roots were swaddled by mossy stuff that kept the water close and made me shiver. My pot was pretty but it had no holes in the bottom so the water had nowhere to go.

I tried to tell the woman I needed different potting soil and a pot with holes in the bottom but she didn’t listen. So, I kept growing roots to try to get out of the moss. I kept reaching, reaching, reaching for the light. I tried so hard for so many years.

After a while, I pulled inward and stopped growing. It was all too hard. I needed to save my strength just to survive.

Seven years went by.

Then something miraculous happened.

The woman’s friend showed her an orchid that had finally started blooming again in her office after many years of zero flowers. I heard her tell the man about it. Then, the woman listened to a podcast about how to take care of orchids. Then, she listened to several more. Then, she looked up articles on how to re-pot an orchid and told the man about it.

It was almost too good to be true. I tried to not get my hopes up. The woman was excited now but what if she gets distracted and forgets about me? Humans are always getting distracted. Sometimes I wonder how they even remember to eat and sleep.

But then, one day, the woman brought me out of the dark corner and placed me on the kitchen counter. She gently removed me from my pot. She gasped when she saw how many roots I had and how many were rotten. She looked at me with eyes filled with remorse and regret.

In that moment, I forgave her.

I forgave her for all her negligence. I forgave her for putting me in dark places. I forgave her for not knowing how to help me grow.

As she listened to another podcast about re-potting orchids, she started working on me. First she picked away all the moist, slimy bits of moss. Then, she got out a pair of scissors and snipped away my rotted roots. I thought it would hurt, and the first couple of snips kinda did, but after a while, it felt good. It was freeing.

Next, she brought out a new pot: a clear one with lots of drainage holes. I almost fainted when I saw that. When she filled the pot with wood chips and a little soil, and then nestled me inside while she added a bit more on top, I nearly died from happiness.

But that wasn’t all.

She watered me in the sink and gave me fertilizer. Sweet ambrosia of the gods! I’d never had such stuff. I couldn’t get enough of it. Finally, after I’d drunk all I could, she lifted me and my new pot out of the sink and onto a plastic lid. Then, miracles of all miracles, the woman placed me on a window ledge in the kitchen.

The sunlight here was even better than the living room. It was warm, diffused, and not too hot. I felt like I had died and gone to heaven. I had no idea that all my wishing and growing and reaching would result in this.

The pot had been my prison. My environment was killing me. But no one listened. Until now.

It felt so good on my window ledge. For days and days, I was well fed, well drained, and well taken care of. And one day, when I didn’t think it was even possible anymore, I felt myself sprout. Not another root–though I had grown some new ones by then–but a long, thin, green stem with a bud on the end.

I was blooming again.

The day it happened, the man started yelling excitedly. “Look! Look!”

The woman ran over and I will never forget the look on their faces when they both gazed down upon my bud that had started to open into a yellow flower. I started to cry. Tears of joy though, dear reader, they were tears of joy.

So, that’s my story. It has a happy ending so I hope it didn’t make you too sad.

Please remember this. No matter how many years you’ve been trapped in a dark place that’s wrong for you, things can change. When you change your environment for the better–whether on your own or with the help of other humans–you will change and grow and you will no longer be small. And someday, on a day when you least suspect it, you will bloom once more.

Peg Cheng is the author of Rebel Millionaire, a guide for how to retire as a millionaire even if you make a modest income, co-owner of Plaid Frog Press, and a career coach combining intellect with intuition. Born in Southern California to Taiwanese parents, Peg lives in Seattle.

Photo by Marcus Donner.