From My Upcoming Book “Letters to the Ones I Never Met”

The Courage to Begin Again

After a year and a half in Barcelona, I decided it was time to return to working life. For one, my financial resources weren’t endless—and I wasn’t expecting to inherit some expensive property out of nowhere. More importantly, I had started to feel insecure about whether I would ever be able to re-enter the workforce, having been away for so long. I needed to act before that feeling started eating away at me from the inside.

Returning to work meant putting myself out there—no job was going to find me unless I announced that I was looking. Yet doing so required much more courage than I had expected. I’ve always seen myself as a brave risk-taker. I moved to countries where I didn’t speak the language, started a second degree with no prior background, and traveled alone to faraway places without hesitation. But I had never imagined I would need courage just to apply for jobs.

There I was, writing my CV, reading vacancy announcements, and practicing interview skills, all while feeling like a novice—insecure and afraid of appearing foolish. But once interview invitations began arriving, I was pleasantly surprised to feel my confidence slowly return. I realized there was indeed demand for me. I was back in the driver’s seat.

I still remember my very first interview. I had dressed up to look professional—I wanted to convey that I respect my work. Despite my outfit, I was nervous. My hands were cold, and I was slightly shaky. The interview went better than I expected, and I had hope, but I didn’t get the job. Most likely, the interviewers picked up on my insecurity and didn’t want to take the risk.

Surprisingly, the outcome didn’t bother me much. What mattered most was that I had taken the first step. I had felt the fear and done it anyway. That meant I could keep going.

I went through a marathon of interviews, each one teaching me something. Eventually, I landed a job in Barcelona. Looking back, I see a few key factors that made a difference in my journey—chief among them was being clear and intentional about what I wanted. I articulated what I valued, what I brought to the table, and I listened. After all, no one wants to waste time in a partnership doomed to fail. The insights I gained about myself not only helped me but also benefited my future employer.

Here’s what mattered most: I brought my true self into the conversation. This was as simple—and as difficult—as it sounds. In every interview, people weren’t just interested in what I knew; they wanted to know who I was. In fact, the latter was often more important than the former. Skills can be taught, but personality is something else. While I can adapt my behavior to suit the environment, I will always be myself at my core.

That means I have to know who I am and be able to express it clearly. If I pretended to be who I thought they wanted, and got the job, I would have to keep playing that role for years. I couldn’t imagine living such an inauthentic life.

Knowing who I am means knowing my values—my non-negotiables in a work environment. For me, those include trust, open-mindedness, creativity, fairness, respect, humility, integrity, authenticity, and goodwill. I made a point of expressing these values during interviews and observed whether they were reflected back by my potential employer. Entering a work relationship is not unlike entering a marriage. In fact, we often spend more waking hours with colleagues than with family. If our values don’t align, disappointment is inevitable.

I learned what I didn’t want.

One great thing about my previous toxic job was how clearly it showed me what I don’t want. No shaming, blaming, backstabbing, manipulation, gossip, humiliation, threats, or cynicism. And “No” to working for a cause I don’t believe in. Selling cars or working in banking, for example, holds no meaning for me. I can’t motivate myself to spend my limited lifetime on something that I believe doesn’t matter. In contrast, helping patients excites me.

I got clear on what I did want.

Beyond the basics—fair salary and meaningful work—I had to ask myself where I wanted to go. Did I want to climb the ladder? Relocate internationally? Prioritize a friendly environment? I realized the most important things for me were intellectually engaging work, some form of leadership responsibility, and kind, collaborative colleagues. Career ladders and big salaries didn’t matter much. A fair game did.

I chose authenticity. 

People sense inauthenticity, and it breeds distrust. Pretending to be someone you are not exhausting and unsustainable. Being authentic, though, takes courage. We all want to be accepted, which can make people-pleasing tempting. But I made a vow to myself; I would always speak my truth, no matter the outcome. If I was rejected for who I truly was, that was a sign I didn’t belong there.

I embraced rejection.

Rejection is never fun. Even if you don’t want the role, a “No” can still feel like failure. But it’s not about identity. Rejection simply means your skills and experiences didn’t align with the job. That’s it. It becomes painful only when taken personally. Once I stopped doing that, I saw rejection as an opportunity to learn. Each “No” gave me space to reflect—Was I clear about why I wanted the job? Did I show how my skills aligned? Was I truly energized by the role, or was my hesitation evident? These questions helped me show up more confidently in the next round.

Looking back, one question guided my journey: 

Am I showing up as who I truly am?

The more honestly I could answer, “Yes,” the closer I got to the job that aligned with me—and the better I felt about doing it. Because, in the end, a job worth doing honors not just our skills and aspirations, but our deepest values. It honors who we really are.