If You Asked Me at 25…

I thought I’d be a lifer.

The kind of guy who climbs the corporate ladder with quiet pride, maybe settles into a modest corner office by 40, respected by his team, trusted by his seniors, calm in meetings, firm in decisions. You know ... one of those people who doesn’t need to shout to be heard.

And for a moment, it felt like that’s exactly who I was becoming.

First job out of college... a top-tier Japanese tech company. Me ... a Saudi kid with a political science degree ... writing backend code for internet infrastructure. I was just supposed to program. But I picked things up fast. I listened. I cracked jokes. I spoke up in meetings when others stayed quiet. I was creative also.

I thought they’d laugh me out of the room.
They didn’t.

I got promoted before my probation ended. Creating the company Intranet. Global Network Division. Recreation Committee. They later put me on a branding committee ... the branding committee ... for the company’s global identity. And then came the scouts. Big names. Yahoo. Some startup named Googleh... I mean, Google. I passed. I wasn’t ready to start over. I liked who I was becoming. I liked where I was.

But something shifted.

Maybe it was the ceiling I started to feel. The quiet reminder that no matter how bright I shone, I wasn’t one of them. Not really. Not Japanese. Not permanent.

So I leaned into the idea of more.

Got accepted into a top university in Tokyo for a master’s in telecommunications. When I recieved the presidential award. I Quit my job. Moved. Not for a role ... for a life. For the first time, it felt like the dream wasn’t tied to a position or a paycheck. It was about building the version of me I wanted to wake up to.

And for a while... I did.

Tokyo Meesh was untouchable. I was still married then, still sharp, still hungry. But not in the greedy way. I was open. Curious. Safe. The kind of man women trusted, husbands admired, and friends called when they needed grounding. I was the young brother of the expat elite ... protector, comic relief, connector.

I didn’t know it at the time, but that version of me ... the one who danced between cultures without losing his balance ... he was preparing me for something else entirely.

My diagnosis.

MS.
It knocked. I answered.

And those friends ... the ones who saw me not as a résumé, not as a Saudi man, not even as a patient ... they showed up. They filled in the cracks. They held space where others vanished. And in those moments, I realized...

This version of me ... this odd, evolved cocktail of warmth, wit, faith, and strength ... he wasn’t just some accidental phase.
This Meesh was necessary.
He saved me.

So no… I’m not the man I thought I’d be by now.

I’m not a CEO. I’m not living in Tokyo. I didn’t stay with the company. I didn’t stay married. I didn’t even stay healthy.

But I stayed... me.

And every version of me that came before this one ... the soft-spoken code monkey, the social butterfly, the protector, the heartbroken, the humbled ... each played their part.

They got me here.

And here... is a good place to be.
Not the one I planned.
But maybe… the one I was meant to be.