The Only Person In Control Of Your Destiny, Is You

For most of my childhood, I grew up believing that my life’s story was already written before it even began.

A significant reason for this belief stemmed from my parents’ outlook on life.

Despite my desperate attempts to stray from this narrative, reminders of my supposedly predetermined destiny were ever-present.

Both my parents migrated to Australia, having grown up in poverty.

My mother was the youngest of eight children, living in a tiny terrace apartment without even a bathroom. My grandmother, raising eight children amidst the chaos of the Vietnam War as a single parent, struggled immensely.

My father, on the other hand, grew up in a small town in Southern China. When his parents gave him their only savings to escape the impoverished slums of China, he made it his mission to ensure his future family would never lack shelter, food, or safety.

Like many children of immigrant families, I was reminded daily of the hardships my parents endured, scraping the bottom of the barrel and sometimes crawling through the harshest conditions known to man just to secure a few grams of rice for their large families each week.

They emphasized that if I wanted to succeed in life, I needed to work as hard as they did, never taking anything for granted and viewing life as a survival game navigating a minefield of adversities.

Throughout most of my childhood, I felt ashamed and guilty for moments of laziness, carefreeness, and adopting a more positive outlook on life. I often found myself straying far from my parent’s perspective, causing many arguments that strained our relationship.

Each time my parents lectured me for not putting forth my best effort in a math exam, I’d snap back, arguing that I didn’t need algebra in my life.

Whenever they scolded me for watching TV instead of reading a book, I’d retaliate, pointing out that just because they didn’t grow up with a TV doesn’t mean I should be denied the experience.

Every time they insisted that I needed to be accepted into the best university program, I’d throw a tantrum about how they were limiting my chance to explore the world on my terms.

I dedicated my entire teenage years to being the complete opposite of my parents, inadvertently damaging myself in the process. I lost my identity, fighting against my family’s legacy — from my parents to their parents to my ancestors. Everything I did was out of pity, revenge, and anger, all to prove a point to my parents.

When I finished high school in 2015, I underwent a complete transformation, turning a 180.

By then, my mother had been diagnosed with tuberculosis, major depression, and psychosis, all on top of her battle with chronic lupus. My father, the sole breadwinner, fell into a pit of depression as he shut down one of his businesses and downsized to keep providing for us.

While the world outside seemed full of opportunities, home was a place of hardship staring me in the face.

It was then that I shed my carefree, happy-go-lucky demeanour and embraced the reality that life wasn’t easy. Instead of fighting against the tide, I accepted my destiny, or at least what I thought it was.

Believing that life was a struggle, I poured 150% effort into everything I did. If something seemed too easy, I’d make it more challenging deliberately.

I exercised by running up hills instead of down.

I took on multiple full-time jobs, sometimes even three at once, totalling at least 30 hours each week.

Instead of sleeping at 11 pm like most people, I stayed up watching documentaries or listening to podcasts, taking notes on what I learned.

To me, working hard and long hours not only validated me in my parents’ eyes but also in my soul. I believed that working myself to the bone was my life’s story.

Even when presented with easier alternatives that could save me hours of toil, I refused, fearing that I’d lose a part of myself.

Little did I know, that a conversation with my father in 2023 would completely change my outlook on life once again, but this time for the better.

My father and I had a complicated and strained relationship.

Throughout my childhood, I resented him for not being there for me — whether it was missing my school performances, sports matches, or simply asking about my day. He was an absent father, burying himself in his work, always saying he was doing it for the family. But at 14 or 15, I couldn’t understand what that meant; it just seemed like an excuse.

On September 3rd, 2023, Father’s Day in Australia, I finally understood the true meaning behind my father’s words.

I took him out to dinner at a local ramen restaurant in North West Sydney and asked him about his business.

Until then, my father had struggled to keep his business afloat, facing the imminent threat of property developers taking over his building. He told me he was ready to retire and wouldn’t fight it when the developers came knocking.

I was amazed and puzzled by how easily my father made this decision.

Out of desperation, I suggested ways he could transition online or open new shops in different locations with less competition.

But my father remained steadfast, explaining his decision:

“For the last 25 years, son, I’ve chosen to work every day of my life to provide for you and your brother. I also made a vow to your mum to be by her side no matter what. I made this choice, and even though I could’ve run away many years ago and made a lot of money, I chose to stay because I wanted to. You and our family are like my two arms and legs. You are a part of me, and even if I try to go against this, I will always choose you as my number one priority.”

That was the moment everything changed.

For the first time in a long while, I saw my Dad.

For the first time in my life, I realised that my Dad made the choices he did because he truly wanted to. Despite spending most of his life hauling an infinite stone up Struggle Street, my Dad never wavered because his family was a part of his soul, and he was proud of it.

For the first time, I realized my destiny wasn’t set in stone, and I had a choice. Even if the path I choose is one of hardship and adversity, if it’s a choice made from the heart, then it’s one I’ll embrace with every fibre of my being.

Life remains challenging to this day, and I accept that as part of my destiny.

However, I don’t have to endure it the same way my parents did. I can choose my path of struggle.

In fact, I can see my destiny as a gift to my parents, especially my Dad.

He gave me the ultimate gift by sacrificing his dreams of making millions, pursuing materialistic gains, and seeking public recognition. Thanks to him, I am part of the first generation in my family with the freedom to choose how I live.

I have the opportunity to turn my passion into a fulfilling career, educate myself on any topic, and access help for any health issue with a click of a button.

It’s up to me to unwrap this gift and use it to build a life where I can truly prosper in whatever path I choose, build a life of health and wealth with my future family, and leave a meaningful impact on society.

"I am the author of my own narrative and the master of my destiny."