Overachievers – Where Are You?

If you were like me, you’d understand how hard it is to be the eldest child in an Asian family—especially as a girl. From the moment you could walk, your parents expected you to be a Wonder Woman. You had to figure things out on your own, excel at everything (because an “A” wasn’t enough—it had to be A++), and, on top of that, take care of your younger siblings.

So when I gave birth to my first child, my in-laws came to help me. They assumed I’d be overwhelmed as a new mom, living in a foreign country with no family of my own nearby. But the truth? I already knew how to care for a baby—I had practically raised my younger siblings back home. What was new was motherhood, in a new country, without the familiar support system I had always known.

Then I went back to work, despite barely speaking Hebrew and having only two years of experience living in Israel—one of which I spent pregnant and working in a hotel, and the other at home with my newborn during COVID. Out of necessity, I bought nail equipment to do my own nails at home, and that small act of self-care turned into something bigger: I became a nail technician. I memorized just enough Hebrew words to communicate about colors and nail shapes with customers. Thankfully, I met patient and kind women who sat through my slow work as I perfected my craft.

I worked hard, built a business, had two beautiful children, and survived six years in Israel through COVID, wars, and everything in between. Like many, I struggled with depression from time to time. Most of the time, I managed to pull myself out with work, exercise, meditation, and journaling (not much, honestly). And with a lot of support from my husband.

But last year… last year was different.

The Breaking Point

One evening, while having dinner and listening to my children quarreling, I found myself overwhelmed—trying to catch up with customers’ messages before they got upset, worrying about potential rocket sirens, and stressing over my business’s future as my arthritis worsened. Then, out of nowhere—a panic attack.

I had never experienced one before. I didn’t see it coming. Even in that moment, my overachieving brain thought, Not now. I have too many things to think about. But my body didn’t care. The pain was too intense to ignore.

After that, I changed.

I lost my appetite. My hair started falling out. I had no motivation to work, no desire to meet or talk to anyone. More than anything, I just wanted to be home. Vietnam. I wanted to sleep in my childhood bed, eat my mom’s food, wander through street markets with my siblings, and talk for hours about everything and nothing.

For the first time in my life, I let go.

I sent messages to my customers, telling them I was taking a break—until when, only God knew. For someone who had never taken a break from work, this was unimaginable. Guilt, shame, and confusion consumed me. But after a month, something unexpected happened.

I started feeling lighter.

Slowly, my energy returned. I began cooking again. Ideas for a new business started forming. And for the first time in a long time, I felt excited.

I still loved doing nails, but my body couldn’t keep up anymore. So I decided to evolve—to transform my nail business into something even more fulfilling: a holistic wellness business.

Falling Apart to Come Together

During what felt like the darkest period of my life, I found my light.

In my search for answers, I discovered Buddhism and the work of scientists like Robert Sapolsky and Ellen Langer, who helped me understand why I do what I do and how I can live more joyfully and meaningfully.

For the first time, I paused. I observed my own patterns and realized—I had been reacting to what everyone else wanted from me my entire life. Saying no had always felt impossible.

But now?

Now, I’m learning to enjoy my life.

I’m stepping into a new chapter—one that I believe will be the most fulfilling yet. Because I’ve learned the greatest lesson of my life, and I want to share it with you on this journey:

Balance