Born into a very traditional Chinese family in Hong Kong, I was the second daughter of parents who were desperate for a son. Then my mother gave birth to three boys and cemented my position at the bottom of the totem pole. With three younger brothers I grew up an unwanted, neglected and abused child in a culture where dirt was more valuable than a useless second daughter.

My one blessing was the name given to me by my grandfather. A very unusual honor for a Chinese girl, he named me Hay Lit after two respected Chinese emperors. This proud name empowered me to grow up believing that someone in my family cared about my future and inspired me to think that one day I could do something important with my life.

I knew there were other children who were much worse off than I. One of my schoolmates and her family of five lived in a single room where they shared a kitchen and bath with two other families. With both parents working, my friend still didn’t have proper clothing or enough food to eat. It didn’t seem fair that she had to live this way. At the age of eleven, I knew that making a positive difference and helping people in need was my true destiny. 

As a teenager, I came to America alone for a college education. I was driven to make a positive difference in the world. Working my way through school, I completed my undergraduate studies and earned a masters degree in a bit over four years. From the bottom of the totem pole, I climbed to the top of the corporate ladder in high-level executive positions at well-known international companies (V.P. Nike, President Reebok Apparel & Retail Group, CEO Aveda Corp.). From there I became an entrepreneur, a published author (“How to Use What You’ve Got to Get What You Want”, is now in several languages), and co-founded a nonprofit organization (Us Foundation) dedicated to promoting the highest common good for humanity.  

Along the way, I never forgot my true life purpose. As an executive in the apparel industry, one of my proudest accomplishments was helping to create change in labor standards for workers in developing countries. Today, in addition to running my Foundation, I speak and consult with global companies and governmental organizations on leadership, diversity and other business issues, and through my health and wellness center, teach clients around the world how to enjoy a balanced and healthy lifestyle.

Then one day, my sister, who lives in Vancouver, B.C. called and said that she wanted to come to California and spend Christmas with me. “I’m sorry,” I heard myself say to my sister who I dearly love and hadn’t seen for over two years, “but I’m just too tired to even think about the holidays. In fact, I’m going to cancel Christmas entirely this year.”

Listening to myself, I thought, “What am I saying? This is just ridiculous! This is crazy!” I suddenly realized that giving so much to help other people, I had completely forgotten about taking care of my personal needs. The truth hit me like a ton of bricks. I was shocked and embarrassed. My own labor standards were completely out of balance! The second daughter, Hay Lit, had been putting herself at the bottom of the totem pole.

My sister was speechless at first, but then she understood that I was just so burned out. I explained that my priorities were all mixed up. Because I had been giving everything I had to other people and to so many worthy causes, at the end of the year I had nothing left for me ? or my own sister!

Travelling around the world I had been teaching business and governmental leaders to honor their physical and emotional health, spend time with family and friends, and pursue their intellectual interests and spiritual calling. But I had not made time to do many of these things. Could pushing oneself beyond our limits into a state of total exhaustion be an example of low self-worth, self-neglect or even self-abuse?