My Story

The Caterpillar’s Tale

I was raised in Hong Kong when it was still under British rule at a time when racism and classism were openly normalised, particularly toward ethnic minority families like ours. We did not have much money, and life carried a quiet sense of instability that I would only come to understand properly as an adult.

There was domestic violence in our household. It was not directed at me, but it shaped me nonetheless. When you grow up around volatility, you develop an acute sensitivity to atmosphere. You learn to read shifts in tone, in posture, in silence. You learn to anticipate. That awareness does not simply disappear with age; it has become a part of who I am today.

My mother and I were deeply close, and I absorbed her emotional world long before I had language for it. I sensed her lack of trust, the weight of abandonment she carried, and the sadness and regret that lingered just beneath the surface. Mental health was not something people spoke about then, but looking back I recognise she was living with profound depression.

What marked me most was not simply the fear in our home, but the gradual fading of my mother’s confidence and self-worth. I watched a vibrant woman become quieter and smaller over time. And yet, paradoxically, as her zest for life diminished, her capacity to love seemed to expand. She gave generously to others while neglecting herself, as though self-sacrifice were a virtue rather than a warning sign. That contradiction left a deep impression on me.

Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls. The most massive characters are seared with scars. ~ Khalil Gibran

My mother believed wholeheartedly in natural medicine. She would warm garlic oil for earaches, offer fennel seeds for unsettled stomachs, and make chicken broth and congee when we were sick. These were inherited practices passed down through our ancestors who understood the body through observation and intuition.

When I was fourteen, breast cancer took her life at the age of forty-four. Even at that young age, I sensed that her body had carried more than it should have. Grief, suppression, chronic stress and years of neglect had taken their toll. I do not reduce illness to emotion alone, because disease is complex and multifactorial, but over the course of my clinical career I have seen how prolonged stress, unresolved trauma and diminished self-worth can influence physiology in ways we are only beginning to understand.

The caterpillar rarely understands what is unfolding while it is still crawling, yet the process of becoming is already underway.

The Butterfly's Tale

I moved through many identities and lived in different countries. I studied. I modelled. I partied. At a sliding doors moment in my life, I found discipline in Muay Thai and became a fighter in a bid to face my demons head-on. I struggled with psoriasis throughout much of that decade and ironically, it was this persistent skin condition that redirected my life.

I travelled to retreats, explored fasting, immersed myself in meditation and detox programs. I was very much alone. Everyone around me poked fun at my "woo woo" pursuits and told me it was all BS while they pursued wealth, status and external validation. The turning point was my first encounter with naturopathy. I consulted and ended up working for celebrated naturopath, Graeme Bradshaw, who quite literally changed my life.

If you met me today, you wouldn’t see the frightened child or the lost twenty-year-old. You would see a woman who has done the work and continues to do so.

Transformation is rarely comfortable because it asks us to let go of identities and habits that once felt necessary or were simply accepted as the status quo. Just because something is repeated loudly does not make it true. Just because something is popular does not make it wise. Growth requires the willingness to examine inherited beliefs, to question patterns that once felt protective, and to choose differently when familiar reactions resurface.

Mind, body and spirit cannot be separated. What we repeatedly tolerate, suppress or expose ourselves to quietly shapes our thinking, and therefore health and wellbeing. Awareness is learning to pause, reflect, and consciously decide what we allow to influence our choices and direction.

The work begins when you step off the merry-go-round of distractions, realise you're not your story, raise your standards, and invite your Best Self forward to live your Best Life.

x SM