In November 2024, I attended a retreat with Ken Honda, together with Chloe Lin, Kelly Kam, and Ken Ku. I went in thinking it would be another session on money mindset — useful, reflective, but familiar.
What I didn’t expect was to walk away with a realisation that had very little to do with numbers, and everything to do with who I had become.
At that point in my life, my relationship with money was good, but not great. On paper, things were working. Businesses were running. Cash flow existed. Opportunities were there. But emotionally, there was always a quiet tension running underneath it all.
There was pressure to perform. Pressure to keep proving. Pressure to constantly think, “What’s next?” — even when things were already fine. I struggled to truly rest. I struggled to enjoy money once it was earned. It wasn’t fear exactly — it was responsibility, obligation, and an invisible weight that never fully left my shoulders.
If I had to describe my relationship with money back then, it was productive… but transactional.
When success stops feeling like you
The biggest insight during the retreat wasn’t about money at all. It was about identity. I realised, quite suddenly, that I wasn’t the person I wanted to be.
Growing up, I always wanted to stand out. I wanted to be seen, to make an impact, to do something meaningful. As I got older, especially after years of building businesses, I learned to step back. To be careful. To not impose. To let the work speak for itself.
Somewhere along the way, I became quieter. Not because I had nothing to offer, but because I didn’t want to overwhelm, overstep, or overexpose.
During the retreat, it clicked.
I do have a skill set that can help people. And the only way to help… is to show up.
If I don’t show up, no one knows I can help them.
That realisation wasn’t loud or dramatic. It was calm, grounding, and deeply uncomfortable in the best way. And it reshaped how I saw not just my work, but also my relationship with money.
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Money is not something you dominate
For most founders, money becomes something to control. We track it. We forecast it. We optimise it. We worry about losing it. And without realising it, we treat money the way we’d treat a system under stress — not a relationship.
But here’s the thing. You don’t control your friends. You don’t micromanage people you love. You stay with them. You listen. You spend time. You let them go, trusting they’ll still be there.
There are boundaries, yes. But there’s also trust. There’s faith, not pressure. Enjoyment, not anxiety.
I’ve always been a control freak. That part of me built companies, systems, and results – but it also created unnecessary tension.
So I made a conscious decision to stop controlling what didn’t need to be controlled.
- Today, I only control my actions — never others.
- I share when asked, never enforce what I share.
- And I show up consistently, without attachment to outcomes.
That shift softened everything — including my relationship with money.
Stress repels more than it attracts
In 2025, things started moving faster again. But this time, it felt different. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t reactive. It wasn’t driven by fear or urgency.
I started working on projects that genuinely excited me — not ones that drained me simply because they were “logical” or “expected”. To date, I manage close to 40 portfolios. And instead of feeling stretched thin, I feel aligned.
Money started flowing more easily — not because I pushed harder, but because I stopped stressing it out.
This may sound obvious, but it’s something most of us overlook:
When you feel stressed about money, money feels stressed coming to you.
Think about it. Would you want to spend time with someone who’s constantly anxious, tense, and demanding?
Most people wouldn’t. Money works the same way.
From “I need” to “I want”
Previously, my internal dialogue sounded like this: “I don’t have enough.” “I need to make more.” “I should be doing better.” Money felt like an obligation.
But relationships aren’t obligations. They’re a want. And when something shifts from obligation to desire, the entire dynamic changes.
Today, my relationship with money feels healthy and secure. There’s cash flow. There are investments. There’s movement — without panic.
It’s not very different from my relationship with my partner now. I don’t add pressure. I don’t force timelines. We trust one another.
Because real relationships aren’t extremes. They’re balances. And maybe that’s why we call it a balance sheet, because nothing works unless it balances.
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A reflection for founders
As founders, we’re good at building systems. We build systems so we don’t overstretch ourselves. We build systems so we can scale. We build systems so life doesn’t collapse when we step away.
But we forget that systems only work when the environment is healthy. We build environments where our teams can thrive. We build environments where ideas can grow.
Yet many of us never stop to ask: What kind of environment am I creating for money?
When you get these fundamentals right — not just in business, but in how you relate to money — flow stops being something you chase. It becomes something that stays.
Look at money as your friend. Create an environment where it feels safe being with you.
Because in the end, whether it’s people or money, the principle is the same: Be the person you would want to be with. And the right things — and people — tend to follow.
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