I knew what I wanted my life to look like.
The problem was that after the Army, everything I was handed looked nothing like it. I had a 9-5, I had chest pain I couldn’t explain. I was constantly checking my six in the cereal aisle of a grocery store, scanning for threats that weren’t there. I was living for everybody else – for what they expected of me, for what they needed from me – and I was dying quietly inside doing it.
American culture operates on “me.” My time. My money. My space. My rights. After being a member of the Camanche Nation and then operating in a military world built on collective mission, collective sacrifice, collective identity – I didn’t fit in civilian society. I never fit. I just didn’t have the words for it until I landed in Japan and all the puzzle pieces of life came together.
The Decision
I didn’t flip a coin. I didn’t stumble across a YouTube video. I looked at my life and made a
deliberate choice. I knew the kind of life I wanted – the calm, the structure, the sense of order, the feeling of being somewhere that actually made sense to me – and I went and built it.
I settled in Komaba, in the Meguro ward of Tokyo. Quiet. Residential. The kind of neighborhood where people move with purpose and nobody bothers you. My days had a rhythm I had not felt since the military. I dropped my son at school in the morning. I trained BJJ at Carpe Diem Aoyama – one of the most respected academies in the world, in the country where the art was born. Private lessons, mat time, training. Then more training and time with my son in the evenings. Teaching and learning and growing. That was it, that was my life and it felt good.
Tokyo Was Built For Me
Veterans talk a lot about the difficulty of leaving the military. It’s not easy losing structure, the sense of belonging and the team. The constant overstimulation, consumerism and all the noise with no way to turn the volume down. Tokyo turned the volume down for me.
The Japanese concept of reading the room – kuuki wo yomu – is something I did every day in the Army without having a name for it. Situational awareness. Following the unspoken rules. Understanding that the group matters more than the individual. In Tokyo, that wasn’t a trauma response. It was just Tuesday. Nobody was in your face. Nobody needed to perform. The city ran with a quiet discipline that felt like home to me in a way that San Antonio never has.
As a BJJ brown belt, plugging into the community was effortless. I was teaching at three dojos across Tokyo simultaneously. I was training at Carpe Diem Aoyama. I was rolling on the mats of the country that gave birth to the art – and I was teaching them. I am deeply grateful to Yuki Ishikawa for giving me that opportunity.
“In the gym I found my tribe and in the city I found peace.”
I ran four properties in Texas remotely from Tokyo the entire time. Managing my business, Reyna Ventures where I was investing in real estate and doing consulting. It’s almost like I could think clearer, more creatively and sharper when I wasn’t constantly bombarded with nonsense or stressed out. Everything was flowing and I was training, earning and I felt like I was in the right place at the right time. Maybe for the first time.
What Nobody Tells You
If I had to name the one thing that genuinely surprised me, it was the schools.
Japan does not let you set it and forget it with your kid’s education. The school is not a drop-off service. The neighborhood raises your child – that is the actual philosophy – and they expect you to be present, involved, and accountable as a parent. For a lot of Americans that would be friction. For me, a man with Native American roots who believes in collective responsibility, it was one of the most refreshing things I experienced there. There was honor in the culture, families and schools.
The Return
Coming back to Texas was the hardest thing I have ever done. And I say that as someone who has been injured in service. Nothing compared to the weight of that return.
I lost my BJJ tribe. I lost my business momentum. I lost my sense of safety. I lost my peace. A personal family situation forced my hand and I had no runway left – I had to go back. I landed in Texas with nothing rebuilt and everything dismantled. There are many different domains in our lives and my relationship fell apart. I miss Tokyo everyday and I lost my heart in a few different ways.
The cruelest part? The day I got back, I received an email telling me I was being evaluated by a venture fund for investment. The timing will haunt me forever. I have to believe it’s part of my story and sometimes the only way to go forward is to go back. The sequel, the comeback will happen because I’m not going to stop trying to achieve my personal and professional goals.
Do It Anyway
If you are a veteran sitting on the fence about making a move like this – to Japan, to anywhere – I want to say this directly: Do it.
Do not live your life the way someone else decided it should look. Do not spend your days
managing anxiety in a country that does not know what to do with you. You served. You earned the right to design a life that actually fits who you are. As far as any of us know, we only get one shot at this. You do not want to be sitting in a wheelchair at eighty years old wondering what if.
Tokyo was built for me. There is a city out there built for you too. Go find it.
Follow the journey on my Instagram and hit me up.
Bio
Manny Reyna is a U.S. Army combat medic veteran, Jiu Jitsu instructor and enrolled member of the Comanche Nation. After his service, he earned an MBA in Entrepreneurship and his PMP certification before founding Reyna Ventures LLC – a vertically integrated real estate investment and advisory firm with operations in Texas and Tokyo.
Check out Veterans in Paradise: The Veterans Guide To Moving Abroad and follow John on Instagram and TikTok for Veteran content and resources.