Dear Diary,
It is 19th June 2026.
Today marks the 24th birthday for my younger brother. Don’t worry, he is not dead, and this is not an entry of reminiscence.
The occasion reminded me of a recent incident that occurred which kind of rubbed me the wrong way.
For context, when I was transitioning this business out of my first shop to my second, I asked my dad for a donation. It wasn’t a small amount either.
When I asked for this donation, I made it very clear that this money might not go back to him, and that there is a very good chance that my business will fail in the future (in retrospect that was a very wise move because look at the business now).
Even though I told him that the money may not go back to him, deep down I am still very grateful that he handed me this cash, and I do plan on returning the money to him 100%.
Fast forward to today, and the business is on its last legs. I couldn’t help but feel guilty about not being able to repay the amount at this time. I also feel a certain pressure to earn more because in my mind, I really do want to give back to him.
Well, during one of the more recent lunch trips with my dad and my brother, they were asking me about the business and how it was doing while we were in the car on the way to our lunch location.
It was an okay conversation at first, talking about how I will be stopping it soon and that right now it is just basically on survival mode.
Remember, the business is already failing, and I am already beating myself up every day foir the sub-par performance and lack of returns.
Then came the statement from my brother: “Isn’t this a waste of Dad’s money?”
When I heard this, there was a sudden feeling of dread and regret that surged through my body.
Mind you, I was in the driver’s seat, and the only response I can possibly execute is to ignore the comment and continue the drive.
Not knowing what the next comment will be. Not knowing whether I will be hit with another wave of guilt.
Needless to say, I was silent for the rest of the dive to the location. They did prompt me with a few bids for connection, but I only responded with one word answers or short sentences, trying to reduce the amount of words that are coming out my mouth.
At any time when I had to stop the car at the red light, I would rest my elbow on the windowsill and look out to the surroundings, trying my best to reduce eye contact with the other 2 in the car.
The silence was deafening, and it lasted until the end of the meal.
This was when my dad snapped and asked what was up with me, and why was I giving the cold shoulder. It was in an accusatory tone, not a curious and caring one.
It made me feel like there was something wrong with me.
I told him, that if I were to explain, I would surely be met with rebuttals and accusations. There was never a safe space for me in this house to be vulnerable with my thoughts and emotions.
He insisted, stating that if I were so cold, he still wouldn’t be able to know what in the world was going on inside of me.
So I warned him.
That if I catch him or my brother not listening to even a hint of my feelings, I will leave.
There was no reply. And so I spoke, mentioning that I feel upset because I feel guilty about not being able to return the money.
My dad got frustrated (a red flag), emphasizing that he did not even want that money back.
I carried forth.
I then shared that my worries came from the comment that my brother made.
Instantly, they made a “what the hell” gesture.
Instead of taking accountability, my brother minimized the effect of his comments. Instead of being objective, my dad took the side of my brother. It is a very common trend in this family, where I am the one who is too sensitive.
I took the car keys out, placed it on the table, held both hands up in surrender, and walked out of the eatery.
In that moment, the only thing I could think of was to get out and away from them as soon as possible.
Once I am far away and confident that I will not bump into them, the wave of emotions hits.
Anger.
Guilt.
Sadness.
Resentment.
Shame.
The business is going down, and it seems like I am going down with it.
So is family important when building a business?
Yes, and I don’t just mean blood family. I also mean the ones closest to me.
What was the saying again? Blood is thicker than water or something?
Well, I believe that blood can be thicker than water, but if the blood is stained by venom, the toxicity can kill.
As I am writing this, I am waiting for the end-of-the-night event: a family dinner to celebrate my brother’s birthday.
I don’t really want to face them again, and be made the villain in the story. But I have learnt that those who are unable to take accountability, are the ones who make others out to be the bad guy.
So let’s hope for the best.
On the bright side, I still have others I can count on, who will be there for me. That is my hope.
Till the next entry, keep growing.