DumplingDudez

We get up at 4 AM every day.

A little meditation.
A little stillness.
Then the gym by 5.

There’s something magical about the morning.

The quiet.
The sunrise.
The feeling that the world hasn’t started rushing yet.

One of my favorite parts of the day.

What’s your favorite part of the day?

When someone comes out to you, they're not trying to hurt you.

They're trusting you.
They're sharing one of the most vulnerable parts of themselves because they believe you're a safe place to land.

Coming out isn't a rejection of family, faith, or love.

It's an invitation to a deeper, more honest relationship.

The question was never, "Will you agree with me?"

The question was, "Will you still love me?"

This is what 46 looks like.

When I turned 40, I stood in front of the mirror and told myself “I love you” for the first time.

And honestly?

It felt awkward.
Uncomfortable.
Almost like I was saying it to a stranger.

But that moment started something in me.

A journey of healing.
Rediscovery.
Unmasking.
Coming home to the parts of myself I spent years hiding, fixing, judging, or trying to outrun.

I’m not going to lie.
It has not been easy.

Especially these last two and a half years.

Living in the in-between.
Leaving Texas.
Moving to Portland.
Letting go of old identities.
Building a new life while still grieving the one I outgrew.

There were days I felt powerful.
And days I felt completely lost.

There were moments I thought I was becoming someone new…
only to realize I was actually meeting the real me for the first time.

Today, I told myself “I love you” again.

But this time, it felt different.

More raw.
More honest.
More embodied.

I wasn’t just loving the polished version of me.
I wasn’t just loving the healed version.
I wasn’t just loving the version that makes people comfortable.

I was loving the scared parts.
The angry parts.
The soft parts.
The q***r Asian kid who learned to survive by shrinking.
The grown man still learning how to be fully seen.

This is 46.

Not perfect.
Not fully healed.
Not done becoming.

But more me than I have ever been.

And maybe that’s the real gift.

Not becoming someone else.

But finally having the courage to come home to myself.

And you are beautiful!