Luxury is Being in Bed by 10PM

I used to think luxury meant something else.

A beautiful hotel. A nice dinner. A spontaneous trip. Something you plan for, dress up for, and look forward to.

But lately, luxury has become something much simpler.

Luxury is staying in. Luxury is being in bed by 10PM.

And on Sunday night, for the first time in a long time, I had that.

I got into bed early. No noise, no stress, no rushing. I felt warm, cozy… safe.

I fell asleep early.

And on Monday, I woke up sick.

It almost feels ironic. As if my body waited for me to finally slow down… and then said, “Now, let me rest.”

Running Yangon Delight has been one of the most meaningful journeys of my life.

It’s my story, my culture, my risk, and my growth. Every dish carries something deeper - memories from home, moments of courage, and sometimes struggles that no one sees.

People see a full restaurant and think, “That’s success.”

But they don’t see what it takes to hold that success together.

On Valentine’s Day, we were full.

Not just once but two, even three rounds.

It should have felt like a win.

But two chefs were sick. Several staff on the floor were on leave.

So I stepped in. Kitchen. Floor. Back and forth. No pause. No time to think. Just moving.

My feet had already been hurting for a while. But in horeca, you don’t stop when it’s busy. You push through. You always push through.

The next day, while I was serving… something changed. I couldn’t stand anymore.

Not “I’m tired.” Not “I need a break.”

I physically could not stand.

My feet were in agony - a tingling, sharp and burning sensation.

Even when I tried to sleep, I couldn’t even let my feet touch or cross each other.

I was later diagnosed with Plantar fasciitis. Tingling. Sharp heel pain. The kind of pain that reminds you of every step you take, while you are forced to take ten thousand of them a night.

The doctor told me to rest. Take anti-inflammatory medication. Go to physiotherapy.

Simple, right?

But what does “rest” mean when you run a restaurant?

The new uniform. I had to give up my dresses for a while, but these Hokas are the only reason I’m still standing. Compared to my other sneakers, the difference is night and day.

Yangon Delight is closed on Mondays. People assume that is my day off.

But Mondays are my days to be an entrepreneur.

It’s the day for admin, planning, paying bills, and fixing whatever broke over the weekend. The restaurant is resting, but I am not. I never really rest.

Outside of work, I like dressing up. I love dresses. I love feeling put together.

But lately… it’s sneakers with everything. Because anything else hurts.

And somehow, sneakers with dresses just doesn’t feel like me. (Haha… small problem, but also not so small.)

I never thought I would experience this kind of physical pain. Not the kind that makes you question whether you can even stand through a service.

I understand that I need rest.

I understand that I should hire someone, step back, and let my body recover.

But then reality comes in.

Cash flow.

Unforeseen circumstances.

Responsibility.

My journey as an entrepreneur actually started when I was 30, back in Singapore. So, I know this phase all too well.

It took us three years to turn things around back then. Three years of working six days a week. On our “off days,” we were still entrepreneurs. On work days, we were everything else from managers, technicians, to problem-solvers. There was no real off switch.

And now, here I am again.

In the early years of Yangon Delight.

In the phase where everything still depends on me.

But maybe my life has always been like this. Starting over. Becoming something new.

I wanted to be a teacher since I was young and I became one. But I couldn’t just stop at teaching. Soon, I was in the education business, managing a school.

I realize now that no matter what I do, my entrepreneurial spirit always takes over. I can't just participate; I have to create. No matter how tired I am, I just love to build things.

And somehow, that relentless drive brought me here to becoming a restaurateur.

Not a straight path. But a path of constant reinvention.

There is always risk and sacrifice in being an entrepreneur. And yet, most of us start this journey for one reason:

Freedom.

The freedom to choose.

The freedom to build something of our own.

The freedom to live life on our own terms.

But Yangon Delight is still young. And the reality of running a restaurant today is heavy.

It is not because people aren’t reliable. My team works hard. But with rising labor costs, and everything else becoming more and more expensive… stepping back isn’t just a simple choice. It’s a math problem.

You can’t always afford the extra hands your body desperately needs you to hire.

So, you become the extra hands.

Instead of freedom, you find yourself tied to the very thing you built.

So I stand. Even when it hurts. Even when my body is clearly asking for something different.

But maybe this is the real lesson. Not just how to build a business. But how to build it without breaking yourself.

How to create not just income… but stability.

Not just growth… but sustainability.

And maybe… Real luxury is not a hotel. Not a dinner. Not something expensive.

Maybe real luxury is this: Being able to rest without everything falling apart.

But until we get there... Maybe I will just rest for one more day.