I’ve been named Asian Entrepreneur of the Year. Here’s the caveat.

A couple of weeks ago, I was named Asian Entrepreneur of the Year at the first-ever Asian Founders Awards. Being recognised by your own community – the people who truly understand the exact road you’ve walked to get to where you are. 

The award came out of the Asian Founders Network, a programme that started in Leicester at De Montfort University. It now reaches more than one thousand founders across ten cities. 

Their research, conducted ahead of the awards, found that Asian-owned firms contribute an estimated £25 billion to the UK economy and make up more than 6% of all our SMEs.

While I was overjoyed to be awarded this honour, it also prompted a moment of reflection. An award that specifically celebrates Asian founders exists, in part, because the ordinary playing field still isn’t level.

It was a mixed bag of feelings – excitement clouded by heartbreak. Hustling for your company is a habit that comes naturally to any aspiring founder, but I realised how hard it is to walk away from a kid’s routine, even for a few days.

I had a jam-packed routine back in South Korea, leaving me little time to think about anything else. I did all I was supposed to do – attend meetings, go for dinners, followed by the late-night strategy sessions. However, as night struck and the noise died down with no one around, I did something that made me truly happy. I watched a video of my toddler dancing around and smiling in pure innocence, and for some time, I forgot all about the rules of business.

I know for sure that being a founder is about sacrifice. Yet parenthood, too, calls for sacrifices. When those two roles clash, this is inevitable as each demands a greater portion of one’s time, energies, and even love. The fact that it is so difficult to reconcile the two makes one despair.

There’s no clear-cut lesson in this. I didn’t come back with some revolutionary idea about how to get the best of both worlds without compromising either. Instead, I came back with a new perspective. I came to realise that it worked as a trade-off, where one would come at the expense of the other.

Showing up for your company means denying yourself precious moments with family. Similarly, devoting time to your family means giving up on a portion of the profit that you so covet.

To be candid, I want to fulfil both my responsibilities with all my heart so I don’t have to regret later. I want my child to grow up knowing that I was no superhuman and that I didn’t always get the balance right, but that I never shied away from trying.

I literally counted the days until my departure, and it finally happened. The return home was an emotional rollercoaster, filled with hugs, kisses, and tears of joy. On one hand, I felt relieved about coming back with a successful deal, and on the other, there was this guilt of missing so many days with my kid.

Founders often shy away from discussing emotions. We’re considered to be in a constant tug of war between the business we’re anxiously building, and the life we’re shaping at home. But no matter how many benchmarks we hit, it would cease to be meaningful if we didn’t have a family to share and celebrate our wins with.