Living Into My Family Name

by Winnie Sher (she/her)

This is my story of how I chose a stereotypical career path befitting a Chinese daughter and ultimately left it behind to follow my true passion. 

It started on a summer’s day when I was 15 and in a hospital room. My beloved father was terminally ill, semi-conscious, and connected to a morphine drip. The doctor had just announced that Dad’s end was near. Mum said to me and my brother, “It’s time to say goodbye to Dad. Tell Dad everything you want him to know. You won’t get another chance after today.”

Standing on the cusp of a moment when my life would change forever, I could barely breathe or speak. There were so many things I wanted to say. 

My future flashed before me—a future that Dad would not be part of. I thought of moments in my life that he would miss out on, which would have brought him so much pride and joy. My GCSE and A-Level exam results. Taking me to university. Starting my new career. Celebrating my first salary. And so on. 

I was at a loss. 

I was 15. I didn't have a single qualification to show Dad and make him proud, even though Dad was the antithesis of a tiger parent. All he wanted was for me and my brother to have a good education and add value to the world by doing what we love and being ourselves. 

At that moment, I felt that offering tangible results would soothe Dad as he passed to the other side, safe in the knowledge that he had fulfilled his duty as a parent and raised his daughter well. 

What was I to do? I was still at school and I hadn’t ‘made it’ in life yet. What could I possibly offer to Dad, to honour him and thank him for everything he’d done for our family? To not just tell him I love him but to demonstrate how much I Iove him? 

I gave him my word that I would achieve results that would make him proud of me. 

I promised him I would be well-behaved. 

I promised him I would study hard, get a good education and go to university. 

I promised him I would get a good job, earn money and look after mum. 

I promised him I would never let him down. 

I lived by those promises over the next 20 years. 

I didn’t misbehave—at school or at home. 

I got top grades in my exams and went to a top university. 

I trained as an accountant even though I’m not a numbers person because I thought it was more prestigious than teaching (my childhood dream was to be a teacher). 

On the outside, I was a shining example of triumph over adversity. 

Model daughter. Model student. Model employee. 

On the inside, I was suffocating. I suppressed deeper layers of grief. I didn’t talk about my feelings, let alone feel them. I blinked back tears and put on a brave face. I struggled to understand complex calculations and berated myself. I told myself to try harder and be smarter. I worked longer hours than anyone else to prove my worth. 

Eventually, the gap between my outside and inside widened to the point where I had no choice but to face what was actually happening on the inside. 

I was in turmoil and longed to feel the joy and exuberance that I felt as a child. 

My passion for learning led me to a training course on personal effectiveness in one of the organisations I worked at. The trainer used neuro-linguistic programming (NLP) tools, which blew my mind. I felt relief and freedom. I learnt and saw ways in which I could change and move beyond my struggles. 

It was a turning point that would go on to change the course of my life. 

I dedicated 2 years to learning and mastering NLP tools alongside my day job. After that, I continued to invest time, money and energy in deep coaching. I learned skills from meditation and reiki to tantra and bioenergetics. I expanded my comfort zone with improv and singing classes. All with the aim of discovering and owning who I am, feeling my feelings, talking about my emotions and being my fullest expression of joy, exuberance and freedom. 

This deep growth work was confronting. It felt like the complete opposite of what I thought was expected of me as a Chinese woman. 

Express my voice and talk about my feelings? Feel energy moving in my body? Be spontaneous and silly?! I’m supposed to be demure and serious. What will people say? Shouldn’t I be saving up for a rainy day or a better car instead of “wasting” time and money on all this mind-body-spirit stuff? I’ll be criticised for being frivolous! 

As the deep growth work shifted the way I experienced my world, there was no going back. I dissolved expectations (parental, cultural and otherwise) that had been millstones around my neck. 

As I started to speak and own my truth, I cared less about what other people thought of me. In fact, people wanted to hear more from me. 

It became clear that investing in myself and my growth was far from a waste of time and money. A new car depreciates in value the moment it leaves the forecourt. I am an appreciating asset. As I transform my way of being in the world, I create and impart new perspectives that empower others to enhance their lives. 

I realised that the more I grow, the more value I create for myself and others. 

Not one to keep the good stuff to myself, I applied the tools I learnt from my growth work to help friends, colleagues and clients who were struggling. 

As they overcame their challenges with my coaching, I noticed how alive and energised I felt on the inside from making a difference to someone else’s life. 

I knew then that my calling in life was not in accountancy and moving up the corporate ladder. 

My purpose in life lay in channelling my love of teaching, personal growth and people into empowering others to lead their fullest and most expressive lives. 

It was stick-or-twist time. 

Follow the security of corporate life and shoehorn myself into being demure and serious—or, create the life I want, honour my true calling and be joyful and exuberant all the way? 

I chose the latter. 

Choosing to shift from follower to creator was one of the hardest yet most aligned decisions I’d ever made. 

After I made my decision, I came to a number of realisations. 

I’d been so intent on fulfilling my promises to my dad, even though he’d never asked, let alone expected, me to. I’d been upholding what I thought were expectations of me as a good Chinese person. I am a good person, no matter what. 

The promises I made to Dad were not misguided. They gave me direction and purpose at a time when I was grieving. They shaped me into who I am today. I fulfilled those promises! I went to university and got good jobs. I didn’t promise to stay in those jobs forever, nor would Dad have wanted me to if it wasn't what I wanted. I feel immense freedom each time I remember this. 

I let go of my corporate life with deep gratitude for the immense part it played in helping me get clear on the life I wanted to live. 

My family name is Sher. 

The Chinese character is 佘, which comprises two parts. 

The top part is 人 which means 'person, people or human beings.' 

The bottom part is 示, which means 'to show or demonstrate,' 

My passion and calling in life is written in the meaning of the surname my father bestowed upon me: “Show people (the way).” 

I honour my father and deepen who I am every time I coach, guide, mentor and teach.