I recently attended the launch of broadcaster, actress and theatre icon Faridah Merican's memoir, Me, Mamak.
It was a celebration of a remarkable life dedicated to Malaysian theatre, but it was one passage from her book that stayed with me long after the evening had ended.Faridah writes: "In my quieter moments, I often do have certain feelings of guilt. I know I was not the best mother in the world, far from it. In fact, in Feroz’s eyes, I definitely failed miserably."
Those words stopped me in my tracks.
Not because they reflected my own experience exactly, but because they gave voice to something many women quietly carry but rarely admit.
Long hours, business travel, missed school events and family moments became part of the unspoken price of building a career.
We told ourselves it would all be worth it; the promotions, the professional respect, the opportunity to sit at decision-making tables that had long been dominated by men.
That belief became a way of making peace with the choices we had made.
For years, I judged myself harshly for those absences.
Reading Faridah's words made me realise something important: perhaps the first step towards healing is having the courage to acknowledge our imperfections instead of hiding them.
Too often, society celebrates the idea that women can "have it all" – thriving careers, thriving families and thriving personal lives, as though anything less represents failure.
Social media has only reinforced this narrative, showcasing polished versions of success while rarely acknowledging the compromises behind them.
The truth is, life is a series of trade-offs. Every choice we make opens one door while closing another.
That reality applies to men and women alike, but women are often expected to excel in every role simultaneously while feeling guilty whenever they fall short of impossible standards.
Admitting that we couldn't do everything perfectly does not diminish our achievements, nor does it diminish our love for our families. It simply makes us human.
By speaking openly about the difficult choices, regrets and compromises that accompany both career and family, we give the next generation permission to pursue success without believing they must somehow do it all without cost.
Sometimes the bravest thing we can say is not "I had it all." It's "I did the best I could."
And perhaps, that is enough.
