Ugh. Another phone interview—just one in a long string of them. It’s not that I’m in such high demand. It’s that I’ve been rejected so many times. Every rejection means another interview, another conversation, another round of hopeful waiting. And if I’m honest, one reason this keeps happening may be that I don’t always answer questions in a polished way. I tend to be a little too transparent.

In my last interview, someone asked how I handle conflict. I said, “I’d like to think I’m improving. But I’d be lying if I said I always handle it well. Some of the hardest moments in my professional life have stemmed from conflict.” Sure, it was honest. But maybe next time I’ll reorder the answer—lead with “I’m improving,” and end with the tougher parts. You know, leave on a high note.

“…Thank you, Mr. Chin. Don’t call us—we’ll call you.”

But the question that always trips me up is: What are you passionate about? Or any variation of that—what drives you, what lights you up, what your purpose is. I completely understand why people ask it, and I even know the kind of answer they want: a nice, clear, quotable mission statement. Something like: “I’m passionate about helping people overcome adversity” or “I’m driven to create inclusive communities.”

My answer? Silence. Confusion. Maybe a stammer.

It would be easy to say I’m passionate about two things: helping people reframe how they deal with pain, and encouraging cross-cultural connection and understanding. It’s what I’ve spent the last few years working on, and probably what people expect me to say. But there’s a reason I don’t lead with that.

The truth? I didn’t start off with a passion for those things. I didn’t grow up thinking about emotional resilience or multicultural work. I didn’t attend workshops on trauma or conferences on equity. If anything, I thought my future would be in music. That’s where I thought I had passion.

But somewhere along the line, life placed different things in front of me. I didn’t pursue this work because I felt deeply called to it. I pursued it because life demanded it. Because my family and I lived through hardship, and I couldn’t ignore that reality. Because someone had to step in, and that someone turned out to be me.

So when I’m asked what I’m passionate about, I have to be honest: I’ve learned to care about the work I do. I’ve learned to become passionate about the tasks life gives me. I’ve discovered that passion doesn’t always lead the way—sometimes it follows.

And out of all of this, I’ve learned a simple, but uncomfortable, life principle:

Forget your passions.

Okay, not really. I only said that because it’s trendy to be edgy in personal essays. But the real idea is this:

Shelve your passions—at least for a while.

Yes, we all have natural interests, preferences, skills. That’s a beautiful part of being human. But there’s a big difference between recognizing those traits and assuming they must define your purpose or direction. That mindset is rooted in self-fulfillment more than anything else—doing what we want, not what life is asking of us.

That mindset is especially common today. We treat “calling” the same way we approach career planning: find what you’re good at, mix it with what you enjoy, and boom—that’s your path. And once we’ve picked our lane, we expect things to follow a straight trajectory. If they don’t, we feel like something’s gone wrong. Or worse, we feel like failures.

But sometimes, the way you’ve been shaped doesn’t align with the work life gives you. And that’s okay. You’re not broken because your passions aren’t aligned with your current job. You’re not lost because your career doesn’t match your degree. You’re not wrong to be unhappy doing what you once thought you’d love.

It’s just life. Life changes. And so do we.

And sometimes, when we let go of our need to be fulfilled by every task, we discover something better. Not easier. Not shinier. But better. More meaningful.

I never set out to be someone who talks about suffering. Or someone who cares about bridging divides. But I’ve found unexpected joy and strength there. I’ve discovered I’m better at listening than I thought. Better at encouraging others than I ever imagined. It turns out I had strengths I never knew I had—but life did.

So no, I’m not saying ignore who you are. Pay attention to your skills. Know what energizes you. But don’t assume that what energizes you today is the only thing you’re meant to do forever. Stay open. Life might have something entirely different in mind for you—something that reveals a version of yourself you never expected.

Don’t idolize your passions. Instead, learn to care about what matters—what needs you. And in doing so, you might just become someone stronger, wiser, and more fulfilled than you ever imagined.

You might even end up thriving—not because you followed your passion, but because you were brave enough to follow where life led.