My beginning

I was born in Hong Kong. My parents divorced when I was small.

At eight years old I was sent to Australia like a package.
At eleven, I was told my mother was dead.
I didn’t even know how to cry.

I worked in my parents’ Chinese restaurant.
I carried trays before I carried books.
I made money before I knew what love was.

I bought my first car with my own fucking money.

When I was young, I was in a violent relationship.
He got me pregnant three times because he wanted to trap me.
I had three abortions.

I ended up in hospital because he beat me.
My father had enough. He picked me up and took me home.

A fortune teller told me three babies were following me like shadows.
She asked if I had abortions.

She said they would follow me until I gave birth to them.

I married a man after that. My first husband.

Weeks after our wedding I found a shoebox full of videotapes.
Him fucking other women.
Some of them filmed in our marital bed.

I moved to the sofa like a fool.
I stayed six months. Tried to make it work.

I ended up in hospital again; after trying to kill myself.

The day I walked out of hospital, I met my husband now.

He invited me to dinner. I went.
I told him I wouldn’t sleep with him.

I slept with him.

And I never left his bed.
I made a home with him.

Now I have three daughters.
They are my life.
They are my forgiveness.

Completion

I learned about completion in Landmark.

Completion means done.
Complete means no residue.
Complete means the thing is handled so fully it disappears;
like it never happened.

And I’ve completed many things in my life.

But this, this isn’t about the past.
This is about what builds inside me.
This is about the circuitry I now own.

Power doesn’t sit still.
It pulses.
It builds.
It loops.

And I close it.

Not for him.
For me.

Because I no longer absorb.
I no longer perform.
I no longer carry.

I direct.
I place.
I claim.

Completion is not about clearing a man.
It’s about installing me at the center.

It’s how I regulate the field.
It’s how I stabilize my space.
It’s how I stay clean.
Anchored.
Alive.

Completion isn’t ceremony.
It isn’t closure.
It’s cycle.

It’s what my body does now,
again
and again,
and again,
without asking for permission.

Because his energy builds,
but I say where it goes.

Not once.

Every time.

That’s the work.

Completion is not an ending.
It’s how I begin.
Each time.
As matriarch.

Legacy

We raised daughters.
I will equip them in my image.

To know what’s theirs.

To command their domain.

To receive without shame.

To clear space without apology.

To hold power like it was never lost.

And yes, through all this, we built a company.
Not because it was easy.
Not because we had time.
Not because we were funded.

We built tech in the middle of arguments.
In the middle of sickness.
In the middle of empty bank accounts.
In the middle of blame.
In the middle of silence.

We built it anyway.

Because this is what a house-holder does.

She raises her children.
She holds her man.
She clears her space.
And she directs, places and completes.