She describes this movement as a departure from the survival mindset of immigrant parents, to one of thriving. “Older generations had fewer choices,” she says. “But today, their children have the agency to prioritize fulfillment, not just financial security. It’s about breaking cycles of generational stress and trauma.”

To explore why it’s never too late to hit pause and reset, JoySauce spoke with three professionals from the Asian diaspora who have stepped away from the grind—at least for now—and are fully embracing their adult gap years. From swapping corporate meetings for yoga mats, to turning layoffs into passion projects, they’re proving that prioritizing mental well-being over career progression isn’t just possible—it might just be the best decision yet.

From the corporate ladder to the yoga mat

Kat Quach followed the path of many children of Asian immigrants: excelling in school, landing a corporate job, and working hard to climb the ladder. Born into a large Vietnamese immigrant family in Australia, she pursued a business degree, securing a stable career in consulting. Despite this outward success, she felt unfulfilled. “There wasn’t a leader around me that I could see myself wanting to be,” she says. “I thought, ‘This can’t be it,’ and I became curious of what else was out there.”

A solo trip to Europe after the pandemic and a breakup sparked a realization: she wanted to explore the world, not just her career. Quach took a planned six-month career break, spending time in Bali completing a yoga teacher training certification. That sabbatical turned into a full-fledged career shift. Today, she’s a full-time psychology student in New York, a yoga instructor, and a mindfulness advocate.

Like many professionals, she grappled with guilt about stepping away from work. “I had to unpack where that guilt was coming from. I journaled, made pros-and-cons lists, and reminded myself why I took this step in the first place,” Quach explains. “Work will always be there, but youth and time to explore won’t.”

Her decision wasn’t met with immediate support. “My parents were shocked. They kept asking when I’d go back to a ‘real’ job,” she says. “But over time, they’ve come to somewhat accept it—though I’m sure they’re still holding out hope I’ll go back.” Therefore, Quach thinks setting boundaries has been crucial. “Not everyone will understand your choices, and that’s okay,” she says. “You have to decide what kind of life you want—and have the courage to pursue it.”

Two years later, Quach hasn’t gone back to her corporate job. In April 2024, she created an Instagram post on her yoga page titled “Other ways to measure success,” which reads, “Growing up, we learn from society clear ways to measure our success that we can easily compare with others. Our marks in school, our job title, the amount in our bank account, the number of friends or followers we have on social media, our relationship status, the age we buy our first property…There are a lot of things in life we can’t measure through numbers. Don’t let socially constructed ways of measuring things define your own self-worth…Find what matters to you and live life in line with that.”

Turning a layoff break into a passion project

Born and raised in Yunnan, China, Lulu Song moved to the United States for her education a decade ago. She admits that her recent layoff in August 2024 wasn’t just a professional setback—it triggered an identity crisis.

“I had spent 14-plus years in the U.S., built a career in ad tech, and secured financial independence, only to have everything reset in an instant,” she says. Losing her job also jeopardized her work visa status, forcing her into a whirlwind of uncertainty. “It made me question—am I just a visitor here?

Instead of scrambling to jump back into the corporate world, Song leaned into something unexpected: tea. As a lifelong Chinese tea lover, she found comfort in its ritual. She started @aptea_therapy, a tea therapy vlog on TikTok and Instagram that blends traditional tea culture with mindfulness practices. “Tea became more than a drink—it was a bridge between my heritage and healing,” Song says.

When Lulu Song lost her ad tech job, she turned tea into a career.

Courtesy of Lulu Song

For Song, this pivot was more than just a hobby—it was a way to reclaim control over her narrative. “I had spent years chasing job titles, promotions, and financial stability. But for the first time, I wasn’t chasing a paycheck. I was creating something with meaning,” she says. Through her vlog, she delved deeper into the historical and philosophical aspects of tea, studying its connection to Zen Buddhism and the way it fosters mindfulness. “I started to see tea not just as a beverage, but as a way of life—a way to slow down and be present,” Song says.

The transition hasn’t been without its challenges. Letting go of the traditional corporate mindset wasn’t easy, and financial security remains a concern. But Song is embracing the uncertainty with a new perspective. “For the first time, I’m not just surviving—I’m choosing to build something that aligns with my values,” she says.

Today, she is fully committed to growing her account across platforms, expanding her content, and connecting with a community that values mindfulness and cultural traditions. She will be attending the World Tea Expo in Las Vegas this month to meet fellow tea enthusiasts and further immerse herself in the industry.

Song notes that the rise of side hustles and the expansion of the creator economy in recent years have also made it easier to integrate creativity into her professional life. “Social media has played a key role, providing visibility and community for AA+PI creators who share their cultural heritage through art, music, food, and storytelling,” she says. “This shift reflects a broader movement—Asians are embracing creativity not just as a hobby, but as a transformative way to restart their careers with renewed clarity and purpose.”

Redefine career paths through card game entrepreneurship

At 25, Gloria Liu had already carved out a promising career in finance, transitioning from corporate banking to early stage venture capital. But after an unexpected restructuring at her firm, she made an unplanned decision: taking a gap year to co-found Odd One In, a card game designed for immigrant families to foster meaningful interactions. “I always had an itch to build something from zero to one,” Liu shares. “Silicon Valley is obsessed with hyper-growth, but I wanted to create something that prioritized real human connection.”

Liu’s multicultural upbringing—born in Guangzhou, China, and raised in Vancouver, British Columbia—instilled in her a deep appreciation for diverse cultures. Fluent in Cantonese, Mandarin, and English, she often traveled between East and West, which influenced her desire to create a brand that bridges cultural gaps. When she met Julie Zhu in San Francisco, the two instantly bonded over their shared drive to challenge the status quo. “Julie had been developing the card game idea, and it immediately clicked. We wanted to bring back real conversations in a fun, low-pressure way,” Liu says.

From left, Julie Zhu and Gloria Liu.

Courtesy of Julie Zhu and Gloria Liu

Leaving a stable career path wasn’t easy, but Liu was surprised by the encouragement she received. “I thought my parents would push me back into a traditional job, but they told me, ‘The world is changing—there’s no such thing as a stable career path anymore.’” That validation gave her the confidence to take the leap. “I was scared—I felt more comfortable in the conventional path—but I knew limited risk meant limited upside. I had to bet on myself,” she says.

For Liu, success isn’t just about commercial viability. “Of course, we need financial success to keep growing, but what really matters is the feedback from our community,” she says. “Hearing how Odd One In helped people bond with loved ones or make new friendships—that’s what makes all the hard work worth it.”

Like Quach and Song, Liu also sees a shift happening in the Asian and Pacific communities, in which more professionals are questioning traditional career paths. “People are choosing unconventional routes—becoming creators, starting niche businesses, or just taking time to recharge,” she says. “But cultural pressures still make it hard to step away from the ‘approved’ path. We need to reframe gap years not as detours, but as strategic growth phases.”