My 2nd business, an online retail shop selling designer goods, was going through a dip. It was stressing me out. In one of my daily phone calls home to my mom I was complaining about how slow my business was. I told her it was annoyingly hard.
She responded the only way a mother knows how, by making me feel like shit.
"I came to the United States with $2 dollars. I spoke no english. I raised 7 kids and put you through college. You can figure it out."
Let me expand on her story a little bit.
My mother gave birth to my sister on the plane here from Vietnam. With $2, she flipped it doing odd jobs into $50 to buy a car to find a better job. She saved up and opened a video store with my dad, then started another company assisting new immigrants with citizenship. She's in her early 60s now, recently battled cancer and is still working to provide for my two brothers with medical conditions.
And here I was complaining about how some of my t-shirts weren't selling, which meant I probably had to cook at home this week.
I was being an asshole. I was gassing myself up.
In my mom's generation, they didn't wear the struggle like a badge of honor.
She did it because she had to. Because she had no other choice. In the 30 years of my existence, I've never heard her complain once.
My Mom never hustled.
She shut up.
And worked hard.