5 Truths I’d Hold Tighter

Accept and honour what I feel
I try to acknowledge my pain instead of brushing it aside. I am learning to value myself from the inside out, because my self‑talk decides how deeply outside comments can hurt me. I look for things that light me up and pursue them—even if they never show up on a résumé. For years, success to me meant money, a job title, and a high‑flying corporate career, until cancer shattered that illusion. When I was sitting with an oncologist discussing how aggressive my disease was and watching my body change, no logo or luxury could give me peace. Money still matters for comfort and choices, but it cannot replace meaning, connection, or love.

Refusing to internalise judgment
There will always be people who think I “do nothing” because I am at home. I know I am doing more than they see. During those seven years—except for my chemo down‑time—I poured myself into my home and family, just like countless homemakers whose work is taken for granted. The most beautiful contributions are usually invisible, and society is terrible at honouring what it cannot count. I am learning not to wait for applause and to start noticing and celebrating my own invisible impact.

Keeping on learning, in any format I can
I remind myself that I live in a time when knowledge is everywhere. Whether it is a big‑name university, a community college, Udemy, LinkedIn Learning, or a tiny local institute, sincere learning always counts for me. It may not translate into a job right away, but over time it compounds—into my confidence, my skills, and then opportunities I cannot yet see.

Uplifting others, quietly
Supporting others who are struggling with the same visa, identity, or mental‑health battles is one of the fastest ways I have found to feel less alone. I choose my own ways to help—online groups, one‑to‑one chats, mentoring, or simply listening without judgment. I try to do it as silently as I can, trusting that the real reward shows up as genuine blessings, a lighter heart, and the sense that my pain is serving a purpose, not as likes or applause.

Remembering my work has value—even if no one pays for it
When I add up the hours I spend on childcare, cooking, cleaning, planning, emotional labour, and admin, I know that this “unpaid job” would easily equal tens of thousands of dollars a year. Global estimates show that women’s unpaid care and domestic work would be worth around 10–11 trillion dollars annually—about 9% of world GDP—if it were actually counted and paid. My contribution is not a favour; it is real, measurable work, even if economies and systems are still slow to recognise it.​