It’s been a year since I left Southern California and moved back to Chicago to help with the sunset of my father’s business. I dearly miss Los Angeles, but there’s great reward in living with my family and helping with the daily needs of the house and the company.

Before I left Chicago almost a decade ago, I often thought about how long I would stay and what my return might look like. In California, especially during the isolation of the 2020 lockdown, those thoughts often returned. I wondered where my life had gone, what my responsibilities were, and how the generations above and below me were going to change.

Thoughts and visions are kind of like low-level time travel. If your vision and influence are strong enough, it’s only a matter of time before it becomes reality.

When I first drove west years ago, I was most thankful for my friends and my accomplishments. I was riding the high of esports and professional gaming. Career-wise, it felt like threading a needle through the wild west. Money could flow in or out of the ecosystem beyond belief, changing the entire reality of the scene overnight. In 2017, NBA and NFL teams were investing in esports. The sky really felt like the limit.

I was moving into a gaming house with rent and food included. From the outside it looked like the dream.

But life-wise, personally, I was isolated. I was traveling alone and moving alone to the West. I felt different from the peers I was leaving and I knew I was going to be different from the peers I was about to meet.

Moving itself was nothing new to me. Growing up I moved several times: preschool, second grade, and seventh grade. And as an adult, I had traveled around the country for tournaments, so I knew organizers and players from all the regions.

So I did what I always tried to do when I was growing up: keep my head up high and “do as the people do.”

But my shortcomings, blunders, and the unstable nature of esports faded my dream rather quickly – a fitting outcome for any dreamer moving to Los Angeles.

Instead of running home at the first chance, I stayed. I soaked in the sun and tried to accomplish other goals I had imagined for myself back in Chicago.

Transitioning away from esports as both a career and a source of fulfillment was difficult. Even harder was watching the competitive side of the game drift further and further out of my reach. I was getting older. I practiced less. I had less focus. Before long, the ideas in my head grew far beyond my abilities to execute them.

I stopped going to tournaments.
I slowed down playing with others.
Eventually I stopped playing entirely.

My confidence was at one of its lowest points during that time.

Then Classic WoW was announced.

I poured my energy into that world instead. Pandemic WoW was a magical moment in gaming, one of the best times in all of gaming. Through it I learned a lot about YouTube, Twitch, and Discord. I tried building something again, but I never quite managed to create a stable community or reliable income.

Gaming as a lifestyle came to an end.

I began working regular jobs—starting with delivery work and then honing my skills in sales.

When I drove back east last year, I was most thankful for my family and God. Returning felt like a very different kind of journey. Back then the emotion was adventure and independence. This time it was duty and love.

I had once quit the family business to start my esports career. Now I was done with my esports career, returning to help the family business.

I wouldn’t trade anything about my hero’s journey—the disappointments included. Every negative moment makes each positive one sweeter. Chasing a dream with full conviction is something everyone should do at least once.

Coming home taught me some different things.

As a teenager I used to resent how much my father worked. I thought he didn’t care enough about my development or my interests. He rarely had time for the kind of parenting I imagined other kids were getting.

What I didn’t understand then was what it meant for an immigrant to build something from nothing.

My father did something that the vast majority of immigrants never get the chance to do. He started a business. He employed people. He supported a family.

And now, decades later, that same business employs me.

Life has a strange sense of humor.

Since moving back, I’ve noticed my impact. My father’s routine is calmer and he trusts me to handle more than ever before, from home repairs like replacing the door handle at the front of the house, changing lightbulbs, and tightening faucets, to meeting new clients and servicing our most veteran accounts.

Faith also entered my life these past years. For someone who has always been philosophical and curious about the big questions, seeking God has become the most important pursuit I’ve taken on. The church community reminds me a bit of the gaming communities I grew up in. In both worlds, simply loving the thing itself—the game, the scripture—gets you halfway there. The church friendship, community experience, and prayer life have fulfilled many of the same benefits from my past gaming community, trading competition for piety.

The biggest takeaway I’ve learned is that chasing dreams and accepting responsibility aren’t mutually exclusive.

I chased my esports dream with everything I had. It didn’t work out the way I once imagined, but the journey was amazing and necessary. It allowed me to grow, to mature, and to ultimately return home with a deeper sense of gratitude.

They say you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. I say get ahead of it and enjoy every moment.