Let them be wrong about you
I stopped explaining myself—and everything changed.
“Hi, I’m Joei. I recently lost my job.”
That’s how I opened my new video series.
Not exactly the elevator pitch most career coaches would recommend.
But I wasn’t trying to impress—I was trying to express.
And that expression lit a creative fire I hadn’t felt in years.
Since then, I’ve published four Substack posts about the messiness of job loss, identity, and reinvention. About telling the truth of what it was like to work in an environment I found toxic. About what I believe needs to change if companies want their brands to actually resonate.
Some people loved it. Others? Not so much.
Not everyone gets it.
The ache of being misunderstood
My dad, for one, wasn’t thrilled.
He said, “Most people won’t resonate with this. They’ll think you were the problem.”
He meant it with love. He wants me to be safe, respected, employable.
And he’s right—most people won’t resonate.
And that’s okay.
I’m not for most people.
Some probably think I’m making my job loss my whole personality.
Or oversharing.
Or being unprofessional.
Let them.
Don’t get me wrong. As a recovering people-pleaser, I know how painful it is to be misunderstood. That tightening in your chest when someone projects the wrong story onto you. When they assume the worst. When they just…don’t get you.
I used to think the solution to being misunderstood was more context.
When I became a boss, I was so afraid of being perceived as cold or harsh,
I started a podcast to over-explain everything.
(Yes, really. Look.👇)
We think if we just explain ourselves well enough, people will finally accept us.
But here’s the trap: if you have to contort yourself to be accepted, you’ll have to stay in that shape to keep being accepted.
That’s not connection. That’s performance.
And it’s exhausting.
What they don’t see
People can assume. Project. Misunderstand.
But here’s what they don’t get:
They don’t see how good I feel.
They don’t see the healing.
They don’t see the clarity.
They don’t see the refusal to keep shrinking into someone else’s comfort zone.
I feel free again.
Creatively charged.
Fully myself.
Something strange happens when you stop trying to be understood by people who were never meant to get you:
You find the ones who do. People who say, “Same.” Not “Why?”
The right people don’t need an explanation.
It’s like a joke—if you have to explain it, it probably wasn’t meant for them anyway.
No amount of context will make the wrong people see you clearly. And the right people don’t need it.
They get it.
They feel it.
They celebrate the audacity it takes to choose authenticity over approval.
Ever since I started sharing honestly, my inbox, DMs, and calendar have been full of something I didn’t expect:
real, rich, heart-opening connection—with strangers, old friends, and people going through something similar or sharing the same convictions.
The cost of “making sense”
There’s immense pressure to live a life that makes sense to everyone else:
“Stay for at least two years—it looks good on your CV.”
“Why would you leave now? You were about to get promoted.”
“It doesn’t make sense to start over at this stage.”
But what if the path that makes sense to others feels completely wrong to you?
“Making sense,” more often than not, just means aligning with systems that were never designed for creative, emotional, or non-linear lives.
So many of us waste years hiding what we want—not because we don’t know, but because we’re afraid of seeming naïve, weird, or irresponsible.
Afraid of disappointing the people who think they know what’s best for us.
But the real risk isn’t being misunderstood.
The real risk is living a life that looks good…but feels bad.
If people think you’re doing something crazy…
My yoga teacher said:
“If people think you’re doing something crazy, that’s because only you can hear your inner voice.”
That’s it. Other people don’t have to hear it. They aren’t meant to.
Your job is to listen—and keep listening—even when it doesn’t make sense to anyone else.
To follow the quiet clarity inside, even if it disappoints people you love.
There’s no greater trap
than curating your life to be digestible to people who don’t have to live it.
Let them be wrong
You don’t owe anyone an explanation for who you are.
Why you left. Why you pivoted. Why you started over. Why you’re sharing everything online.
You don’t need it to make sense to others for it to feel right to you.
So if you’re in a season of being misunderstood—good.
That means you’re finally starting to trust yourself more than other people’s projections.
Let them doubt.
Let them assume.
Let them gossip.
Let them be wrong about you.
That’s none of your business.
Because here’s the most liberating truth I’ve learned:
I’m not here to convince.
I’m here to be me.
And that shift? It changed everything.
It meant walking away from what once made sense.
Letting go of the need to be liked, agreed with, or approved.
But it also meant this:
Feeling free.
Feeling like myself.
Feeling the quiet power of no longer asking for permission.
So let them be wrong.
And keep getting right with yourself.
Big love,
Joei
P.S. If this hit home—I’d love to hear how. Leave a comment, reply directly, or share it with someone who might need it.