I thought I was being resilient 4

SUBHEAD HERE

I thought I was being resilient. Growing up as the daughter of two Chinese immigrants, resilience was ingrained in me as a survival mechanism. My parents—like so many others who sacrifice everything for a better life—instilled in me the belief that success meant honor, and honor meant becoming a doctor, lawyer, or at the very least, a partner at a consulting firm. Success was the way to prove our worth in a world that often dismissed us. Success was my duty.

And so, I jumped through every hoop. I studied hard, climbed the corporate ladder, and played the game. I respected hierarchy because it was what I was taught. I honored my elders by doing what was expected. In my pursuit of "greatness" I endured sexual harassment, discrimination, personal loss and yet, I still was hustling—checking off every box, over-delivering on every project, and proving myself over and over again—I watched as others, who didn’t look like me, got promoted simply on their potential.

"John Smith" didn’t have to jump through the hoops. His presence alone was enough. Meanwhile, I had to twist myself into knots to make the cut.

I endured toxic bosses and worked in environments where there were no women in leadership, let alone anyone who looked like me. I thought being resilient meant enduring all of it, working harder than everyone else, and succeeding at whatever cost. That was the price of breaking the bamboo ceiling. And I paid it willingly—until I couldn’t anymore.

Becoming a mom changed everything. When I returned to work after maternity leave with my second child, I found myself drowning in postpartum depression. My once-unshakable belief in my own resilience faltered. Suddenly, the cracks in my carefully constructed life were too wide to ignore. I tried to power through, as I always had. But no matter how hard I worked, I couldn’t make it all fit: the demands of being a successful partner and the deep longing to be a present mother.

For the first time, I began to question: Was this resilience, or was I just surviving? Was I climbing a ladder that I didn’t even want to be on? And why was I working so hard to prove myself to institutions that didn’t value me the way I valued them?

Therapy was my lifeline. In a culture that often stigmatizes seeking help, therapy was nothing short of revolutionary. It gave me the tools to see what I had been too busy—or too afraid—to confront. I realized I’d spent my entire career trying to fit into a system that was never built for someone like me. And worse, I was teaching my children—through my actions—that success meant self-sacrifice. I didn’t want that for them. I didn’t want that for me.

So, I decided to break the cycle.

My annual goals used to read, “Break the bamboo ceiling. Get into the C-suite.” Today, my goal is simple: “Find joy in the small moments.”

Joy—not the title on my business card, not the size of my paycheck, not the approval of others. Joy is now my north star. And in redefining success for myself, I’ve found a richness I never knew was possible.

I’ve channeled this realization into building something new. I’ve started two companies: a consulting firm and Malu, a movement focused on holistic healing and transformation. Malu—which means “horse road” in Chinese—symbolizes the journey of life with all its ups and downs. It’s a space where we blend therapy, coaching, and community to help others rediscover their worth and build lives of meaning. It’s my way of giving back and helping others break their own cycles.

I now see resilience not as enduring the impossible but as the courage to question what’s possible. It’s having the strength to stop, to heal, and to redefine what matters. Resilience is not climbing a broken ladder; it’s building a new one.

If my story resonates with you, I’d love to hear yours. Have you redefined resilience in your life? Are you questioning the status quo? Let’s have this conversation. Together, we can build something better.