But, guess what? 3 years down the road, my soul was torn apart, because, I yearned for returning back as an alpha female who is constantly reinventing myself to new heights (Ms. Nava's Late 50s Social Entrepreneurship Journey). Suffice to say, I reinvented myself. Investing my time and money, in upgrading my knowledge, skills, and abilities (KSA) by adding new credentials. Concurrently, massively churning in the mill for the needed yoga KSA. Was not an easy feat, trust me, in my 50s. Still, against all odds, turned out as a blessings in disguise, for the birth of Nava's Zen, in the health and wellness business. No regrets whatsoever, despite the challengers for charting myself as an Indian Woman Social Entrepreneur. The challengers in setting up Nava's Zen first and foremost, simultaneously, still facing challengers being an Indian woman entrepreneur.
Initially, money was sunny. Hub willingly helped out. Contributing 60%, whereas the balance 40% I inherited from family property. All good to go as the start-up for Nava's Zen. But, one year down the road. Nava's Zen bled for money. Money for growth. Meanwhile, silence became his golden theory. Well, I don't blame my hub. The wise man safeguarding his money as his retirement sustainability, which is on-going. Still, in all good marriage faith, I respect him because until this day, he picks up all our cost of living bills.
Needless to say, I had to tune in my "power hose" brain. Which one? Short term or long term bank loan? Borrowing from friends or family? What about business angels or venture capitalist? The logic then struck that, bank interest will kill me, whereas friends or family members, for a fact, are dead against a woman like me. How about business angels or venture capitalist? Oh-no. I don't want them budding their nose into my business. Eventually, the best logical and practical choice? Touching my provident fund. Was it a risk?
The pressure as the pressure cooker for an Indian woman entrepreneur like me. Duh! I can't run, neither hide from housework. Housework which was automatically and conveniently handed over once I got married. It is, believe me, still circulating around me. Seems like there will be no escape despite trying to voice out. Oh, Oh, I also must be the one holding the marriage fort together. God! Frustrating on some days.
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