Growing up with limited resources taught me how to survive. Not thrive—survive. That meant always being on alert. Always responsible for making sure everyone else was okay. Making sure they were fed, paid, cared for. Making sure the bills were paid. The family was okay. The business stayed standing. That I stayed standing.
Most of my life has been lived in survival mode. I didn’t even realize how deeply wired that was until everything fell apart last year.
We lost 40% of our revenue over two months. Just like that.
I was in the black and burning through cash month after month.
I had to take out loans just to cover payroll—just to keep the company afloat.
I was slashing costs left and right, trying to save every dollar to keep our team intact. I wasn’t just fighting for my business—I was fighting for my people. And that pressure? It’s heavy. Especially when your business is no longer a small mom-and-pop. We’d grown into a mid-sized operation. And suddenly, I felt like I was starting all over again.
But I didn’t give up.
I gathered myself.
I swallowed my pride.
I took it one step at a time.
And after eight long months—we climbed out of the red and became profitable again.
Now, my businesses are running smoothly. We’re in the green. I can finally breathe.
But here’s the wild part—now that I’m no longer in survival mode… I don’t quite know what to do with this peace.
It’s strange. I’m in this unfamiliar space where I’m not constantly fighting fires. Where things are stable. Where I’m not panicking over cash flow or putting on a brave face for the team. And it’s making me ask deeper questions:
What’s my purpose—beyond the grind?
Beyond the revenue goals, the business wins, the mom-life, the checklists?
According to Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, I’m almost at the top. I’ve built security. I’ve created something meaningful. But now I’m searching for something more. Something I can’t quite name yet.
And to be honest? Some days, I feel like an alien trying to navigate this new version of life.
But what I do know is this:
I’m learning to enjoy the journey. To trust the detours. To stop trying to control everything outside of me.
Because what I can control is me—my mindset, my reactions, my presence.
Everything really does happen for a reason.
Even the breakdowns. Even the rock bottoms.
They shaped me into someone who’s not just surviving anymore—but slowly learning to live.
So here I am, in the messy middle—figuring it out, one breath at a time.
And if you’re in that space too, I see you.
Keep going.
—
Ashley Du