A few days ago, I met a woman in her 40s who has been looking for work since her contract ended in April.

On the surface, her story sounded familiar. Like many professionals navigating today’s job market, she was updating her CV, sending applications and waiting for interviews. It was the kind of story we’ve become used to hearing, particularly over the past few years as companies restructure, hiring slows and contracts come to an end.

But that wasn’t really her story.

While she was trying to find her next role, she underwent surgery to remove fibroids. The surgery was supposed to bring relief, yet the pain continued. Further investigations revealed gastrointestinal issues that meant more consultations, more tests and more hospital appointments.

Job searching was no longer something she did between meetings or after work. It had become another responsibility competing for her time and energy, alongside managing her health.

Her recruiter was honest with her. Employers, they suggested, might be hesitant if they anticipated ongoing medical appointments. Whether that assumption would ultimately prove true almost didn’t matter. Once the possibility had been raised, it became another burden for her to carry.

Then she shared something else.

Her father had spent three months in hospital before he passed away early this year. Throughout that period, she had been his primary caregiver while dealing with her own medical issues and persistent pain. And one evening, the pain got so bad at home and she had to call for the ambulance herself, which made her feel quite sad and lonely.

When she explored what financial support might be available, she discovered what many people eventually learn: support schemes are designed around eligibility criteria, and not every difficult situation fits neatly within them. She didn’t criticise the system, nor did she suggest anyone had failed her. Sometimes circumstances simply fall into the spaces between existing forms of assistance.

She has no family to lean on.

Yet every day, she continues applying for jobs.

Later that evening, I found myself thinking about another conversation I’d had with a close friend.

His circumstances were entirely different, yet they arrived at a similar destination.

Over the course of his career, he had worked for two companies that failed to pay their employees properly. One eventually repaid his outstanding salary in instalments. The other company’s CEO left Singapore, leaving unpaid salary and CPF issues that remain unresolved.

Like the woman I’d met earlier that day, he also discovered that some forms of assistance weren’t available because his circumstances didn’t quite match the criteria they were designed for.

Unlike her, however, he had one important advantage. He held a vocational driving licence, which meant he could start driving for Gojek while continuing his search for a permanent role. It wasn’t the career he wanted, nor was it part of his long-term plans, but it gave him enough income to keep moving forward while he looked for something more stable.

As I reflected on both conversations, I realised that neither story fitted the narratives we usually tell ourselves about unemployment, resilience or success.

Neither person had stopped trying.

Neither lacked discipline.

Neither was sitting around waiting for life to improve.

If anything, they were doing exactly what we so often tell people to do. Keep applying. Stay employable. Show initiative. Be responsible. Adapt when circumstances change.

And yet life seemed determined to keep demanding more from them than they had left to give.

When life quietly drains the resources we depend on

Meeting them made me rethink what we really mean when we talk about staying motivated during difficult times.

Most advice assumes that motivation is something we can simply choose. If we’re struggling, perhaps we need to set clearer goals, build better habits or adopt a more positive mindset. Entire industries have been built around helping people become more motivated, more productive and more resilient.

There’s value in many of those ideas. Habits matter. Purpose matters. So does resilience.

But they all rest on an assumption that often goes unspoken: that we have enough resources left to act on that advice.

What if we don’t?

What if the challenge isn’t a lack of motivation at all?

What if it’s resource depletion?

I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately, not only because of the conversations I’ve had with other people, but because I’ve seen versions of it play out repeatedly in my own life. There are seasons when life asks more of us than we ever expected to give. Health problems appear without warning. Someone we love becomes seriously ill. A contract ends. Bills continue arriving regardless. Grief refuses to keep to a convenient schedule.

None of these experiences exists in isolation. They accumulate, each one drawing from the same limited pool of physical energy, emotional capacity, time and financial security.

Researchers have been exploring this idea for years, even if they use different language to describe it.

In their book, Scarcity: Why Having Too Little Means So Much, economist Sendhil Mullainathan and behavioural scientist Eldar Shafir argue that scarcity doesn’t simply mean having less money or less time. It changes the way our minds work. When we’re preoccupied by what we don’t have, whether that’s financial security, time, health or stability, a significant portion of our mental bandwidth becomes consumed by managing those shortages. Decision-making becomes harder. Planning becomes more difficult. Even simple tasks require greater effort.

That insight helps explain why advice that seems perfectly reasonable can sometimes feel impossible to follow.

“Network more.”

“Take another course.”

“Keep applying.”

“Stay optimistic.”

None of those suggestions is inherently wrong. In fact, they may well improve someone’s chances of finding work or navigating a difficult period.

But every one of them requires resources.

Networking requires emotional energy. Upskilling often requires money and time. Job applications demand focus, persistence and optimism despite repeated rejection.

When someone is also recovering from surgery, attending medical appointments, grieving the loss of a parent or worrying about how to pay next month’s bills, those resources become increasingly scarce.

The challenge is no longer simply finding another job.

The challenge is finding enough of yourself each day to keep looking.

I’ve come to think of ambition in much the same way.

We often treat ambition as though it exists independently of circumstance, as though it’s an internal characteristic that remains constant regardless of what life throws at us. If someone appears less ambitious than they once were, it’s tempting to assume they’ve become complacent or lost their drive.

But ambition doesn’t exist in a vacuum.

It depends on the resources available to sustain it.

When those resources are steadily depleted, ambition doesn’t necessarily disappear. More often, it becomes harder to express. The desire to build a meaningful career, contribute to society or pursue long-held goals may remain entirely intact. It’s simply competing with far more immediate demands: managing pain, navigating uncertainty, caring for loved ones or making sure there’s enough money to cover another month’s expenses.

That’s a very different problem from a lack of motivation.

And I wonder whether we sometimes fail to recognise the difference because visible progress is easier to measure than invisible effort.

Someone who has been unemployed for six months may look, from the outside, as though nothing much has changed.

What we don’t see are the dozens of applications that never received a reply, the interviews that ended in silence, the hours spent in waiting rooms, the conversations with recruiters, the nights spent calculating finances, or the quiet determination required to begin again the next morning.

We live in a culture that understandably celebrates outcomes. Promotions, new jobs, successful businesses and personal milestones are visible markers of achievement.

Invisible effort rarely receives the same recognition.

Perhaps that’s why we sometimes mistake a lack of progress for a lack of effort.

The two are not the same.

When resilience becomes another expectation

If there’s one word that has come to define modern conversations about adversity, it’s resilience.

It’s a word that appears everywhere, from leadership books to corporate workshops and social media posts. We admire resilient people. We tell children to be resilient. We encourage colleagues to build resilience. It has become shorthand for our ability to recover from setbacks and keep moving forward.

None of that is wrong.

But I sometimes wonder whether we’ve unintentionally turned resilience into another expectation that people feel they have to live up to.

When someone loses a job, develops a chronic health condition or becomes a caregiver, the response is often immediate and well intentioned. Stay strong. Keep going. Don’t give up.

Again, none of this is bad advice. Most people offer it because they genuinely care.

Yet there’s another question we don’t ask often enough:

What does resilience actually look like when someone has been carrying heavy burdens for months, or even years?

It’s easy to recognise resilience in hindsight. We celebrate the entrepreneur whose business eventually succeeds, the athlete who returns after injury or the executive who overcomes redundancy to build a thriving career.

It’s much harder to recognise resilience while someone is still living through uncertainty.

For many people, resilience isn’t dramatic. It isn’t inspiring. It certainly isn’t something they’d choose.

Sometimes it looks like:

submitting another job application despite weeks of rejection;
attending yet another hospital appointment while worrying about work;
calling a recruiter after hearing nothing for weeks;
paying another bill and hoping there’s enough left for next month; or
getting out of bed when the future still feels uncertain.

These aren’t extraordinary achievements in the traditional sense. In fact, they’re so ordinary that they often go unnoticed.

Yet they may be some of the most difficult acts of perseverance a person performs.

Perhaps that’s why I think we should be more careful about how we use the word resilience. When we reserve it only for remarkable comeback stories, we overlook the quieter forms of courage that rarely make headlines.

We don’t always lose motivation. Sometimes we lose capacity.

One of the biggest shifts in my own thinking has been recognising that motivation and capacity are not the same thing.

Someone can desperately want to rebuild their career while lacking the physical energy to spend hours tailoring job applications. I can hear some of you saying, “Use AI!” I’ve tried it and while it does help with the customisation of one’s CV, it is still a lot of work because you still need to read through every revision before submission and the agent mode isn’t perfect as a lot of companies still require you to sign up for an account before applying for a job. Thus, it still does take up time and effort each day.

A parent can care deeply about being present for their children while feeling emotionally depleted after months of caregiving or financial stress.

Someone living with chronic pain may still have every intention of pursuing their goals, even if each day demands difficult decisions about where their limited energy should go.

This is something researchers have observed across multiple areas of health and psychology.

Chronic stress doesn’t simply affect our mood. It can impair attention, memory, decision-making and executive function. Financial insecurity creates what psychologists describe as a “cognitive load”, consuming mental resources that would otherwise be available for planning, problem-solving and self-control. Likewise, prolonged caregiving has consistently been associated with higher levels of emotional exhaustion, poorer physical health and increased psychological distress.

In other words, the very challenges people are trying to overcome may also reduce the mental and emotional resources they need to overcome them.

Seen through that lens, it becomes much harder to judge someone for not appearing motivated enough.

It’s entirely possible that they’re already operating at full capacity and simply using that capacity to survive.

That distinction matters because it changes the conversation from, “Why aren’t you trying harder?” to “What resources are you missing?”

Those are very different questions.

The first places responsibility almost entirely on the individual while the second recognises that human beings don’t exist independently of their circumstances.

The quiet power of letting people help

One thing I’ve noticed over the years is that difficult seasons often become lonely ones.

People disappear from social gatherings because they don’t have the energy.

They stop replying to messages because they don’t know what to say.

They avoid conversations because they’re tired of answering the same question: “How’s the job search going?”

Sometimes they feel embarrassed.

Sometimes they don’t want to burden anyone else.

Sometimes they’re simply exhausted.

It’s an understandable instinct.

When life feels uncertain, many of us become fiercely independent. We tell ourselves we’ll reach out once we’ve sorted everything out. We’ll share good news instead of worrying people. We’ll ask for help only if things become really bad.

The problem is that life rarely becomes easier in isolation.

In fact, one of the strongest and most consistent findings in psychological research is that social support is closely associated with resilience and wellbeing. People who feel supported by family, friends, colleagues or their wider community generally cope better with prolonged stress than those who feel they have to manage everything alone.

That doesn’t mean support eliminates hardship.

It means hardship becomes more bearable when it isn’t carried alone.

This is where I think we sometimes misunderstand resilience.

Resilience isn’t carrying every burden by yourself until you collapse.

Sometimes resilience is allowing someone else to carry part of the weight.

That might mean telling trusted friends that you’re looking for work instead of quietly hoping they’ll somehow find out.

It might mean asking former colleagues whether they know of any opportunities.

It might mean being honest with recruiters about your circumstances so they can help identify roles that genuinely fit.

It might mean exploring government support even if you’re unsure whether you qualify. Not every application will be successful, but not every outcome can be predicted in advance either. Sometimes the answer is no. Sometimes you’re directed to another form of assistance you didn’t know existed. Sometimes a conversation opens a door you weren’t expecting.

It might also mean accepting practical help when it’s offered.

Someone reviews your CV.

Someone makes an introduction.

Someone watches your children while you attend an interview.

Someone brings over a meal after another difficult week.

None of these acts solves the underlying problem.

Together, however, they reduce the weight one person has to carry.

I was reminded of this while writing Why The Sandwich Generation Needs a Different Approach to Wellness. Caregiving often becomes invisible because so much of it happens behind closed doors. The same is true of unemployment, chronic illness and grief. We assume people are managing because they continue showing up.

Sometimes they’re managing only because other people quietly stepped in when they needed it most.

Perhaps we should celebrate those moments more often.

Not just the person who kept going.

But the people who made it possible for them to keep going.

A different way of thinking about ambition

The more I reflect on the conversations I’ve had this year, the more convinced I am that we need a broader definition of ambition.

Too often, ambition is measured by visible achievements: promotions, business growth, financial success or professional recognition.

Those things matter.

I’ve worked towards many of them myself.

This isn’t an argument against success, hard work or setting meaningful goals.

It’s an argument for recognising that our ability to pursue those goals depends on resources that are neither limitless nor entirely within our control.

Health.

Time.

Financial stability.

Supportive relationships.

Emotional capacity.

When those resources are abundant, ambition can stretch further.

When they’re depleted, protecting them becomes just as important as pursuing the next milestone.

That’s what I’ve come to mean when I talk about Sustainable Ambition.

It’s not about lowering expectations or abandoning meaningful work.

It’s about recognising that success achieved at the cost of your health, your relationships or your humanity is difficult to sustain.

Equally, it’s about recognising that there are seasons when surviving with your values intact is its own kind of achievement.

We’ve become accustomed to asking people what they’re striving for.

Perhaps we should also ask what they’re carrying. The answer may tell us far more about their ambition than their CV ever could.

There is another assumption that quietly sits beneath many conversations about success: that life will eventually return to normal OR if we can just push through this difficult season, we’ll be able to pick up where we left off.

Sometimes that’s true. Sometimes, recovery comes more quickly than we expect but sometimes there isn’t a clear finish line.

A chronic health condition becomes something we learn to manage rather than overcome. Grief changes shape but never quite disappears. Caring responsibilities evolve instead of ending. A difficult job market remains difficult for longer than anyone predicted.

Waiting for life to become easy again can leave us postponing our lives indefinitely.

I think that’s one of the reasons I posted on my Instagram about how The Goal Isn’t To Escape Your Life Every Weekend. It was never really about weekends. It was about the belief that wellbeing shouldn’t only exist in the brief moments when life finally stops making demands of us.

The same applies here.

If we believe ambition only counts when we’re moving quickly, constantly achieving or relentlessly progressing, then anyone navigating illness, caregiving or prolonged uncertainty will inevitably feel as though they’ve fallen behind.

But perhaps they’ve simply been running a different race.

One that demands patience instead of speed.

One that requires endurance rather than acceleration.

One where success isn’t measured by how far you’ve travelled, but by your willingness to keep taking the next meaningful step, even when the path ahead remains unclear.

That doesn’t mean we stop hoping for better circumstances.

It doesn’t mean we stop applying for jobs, pursuing opportunities or working towards ambitious goals.

It means recognising that our relationship with ambition changes as our circumstances change.

For some people, ambition looks like launching a company.

For others, it means completing a qualification.

For someone recovering from surgery while grieving the loss of a parent, ambition may simply mean attending an interview despite not feeling at their best.

None of these ambitions is inherently more worthy than another.

They simply reflect different realities.

Perhaps that’s why I’ve become increasingly uncomfortable with the way we compare ourselves to other people’s progress as we rarely compare like with like.

We see someone’s promotion but not the years of stability that made it possible.

We see someone starting a business but not the partner quietly carrying more of the responsibilities at home.

We see someone celebrating a new job but not the dozens of unsuccessful applications that came before it.

And we almost never see the invisible costs people are paying simply to remain where they are.

Last week, I wrote for my Editor’s Note “It Doesn’t Rain.It Pours.” after reflecting on how difficult periods of life rarely arrive one problem at a time. Instead, challenges seem to gather momentum. A health issue is followed by financial pressure. A family crisis collides with work uncertainty. One setback becomes several, until it feels as though every part of life requires attention at once.

Looking back, I realise this article is really a continuation of that conversation.

Because when adversity accumulates, so does depletion.

And when depletion accumulates, staying motivated during difficult times becomes less about finding more determination and more about protecting the resources that determination depends on.

That brings me back to the woman I met this week.

I don’t know when she’ll find her next job.

I don’t know whether her health will improve quickly or whether her recovery will take longer than she hopes.

I don’t know whether the next application she submits will be the one that changes everything.

We often wait until someone’s life has improved before recognising their resilience. We celebrate the promotion, the successful business or the triumphant comeback because those stories reassure us that persistence is eventually rewarded.

Life doesn’t always unfold so neatly.

Sometimes people genuinely do everything they reasonably can, and things remain difficult.

Sometimes they make responsible decisions, seek help, continue applying for work and keep showing up despite pain, grief or uncertainty.

Sometimes progress is measured in months rather than days.

Sometimes it’s measured in surviving another week without giving up on yourself.

That isn’t failure.

It’s simply a different kind of progress.

As I continue developing the idea of Sustainable Ambition, I keep returning to these two questions:

What if ambition isn’t just about the goals we’re pursuing?

What if it’s also about protecting the person pursuing them?

Because meaningful success isn’t built on ambition alone.

It also depends on health, relationships, stability, hope and the quiet confidence that we don’t have to carry every burden by ourselves.

Those resources deserve protecting just as much as our careers do.

Perhaps even more.

So if you’re reading this while searching for ways of staying motivated during difficult times, I hope you leave with something more useful than another reminder to work harder or think more positively.

I hope you remember that losing momentum isn’t the same as losing ambition.

That slow progress isn’t the same as no progress.

That asking for help isn’t a sign that you’ve become less resilient.

Tell your friends you’re looking for work.

Let people make introductions.

Be honest with recruiters about your circumstances.

Explore the support that’s available, even if you aren’t sure whether you’ll qualify.

Accept the meal, the coffee, the conversation or the offer to review your CV.

None of these things guarantees a different outcome but they make it less likely that you’ll have to face uncertainty entirely on your own.

Sustainable ambition isn’t about chasing bigger dreams.

Sometimes, it’s about protecting the small amount of hope you still have left.

Sometimes, it’s simply taking the next step.

And sometimes, that next step is allowing someone else to walk beside you.

You Don’t Have to Figure Everything Out on Your Own

If this article resonates with you, I hope you’ll remember that asking for help isn’t a sign that you’ve run out of resilience. Sometimes it’s the very thing that allows you to keep going.

If you’re navigating job loss, financial uncertainty, caregiving responsibilities or a particularly difficult season in life, these Singapore resources are a good place to start. Even if you’re unsure whether you qualify for a particular scheme, it’s worth exploring what’s available or having a conversation with someone who can advise you.

💼 SkillsFuture Jobseeker Support Scheme

If you’ve been involuntarily unemployed, the SkillsFuture Jobseeker Support Scheme provides temporary financial support while you actively search for your next job. It also encourages job seekers to participate in activities such as career coaching, skills upgrading and job applications to help them return to work.

Learn more: https://www.myskillsfuture.gov.sg/jobseeker-support

🎓 SkillsFuture Singapore

Whether you’re looking to switch careers, upskill for a new industry or strengthen your existing skills, SkillsFuture offers a wide range of training programmes, career guidance and funding support to help you stay employable throughout your career.

Learn more: https://www.skillsfuture.gov.sg

🧭 SupportGoWhere

Not every difficult situation fits neatly into a single category. SupportGoWhere helps you find government support across employment, healthcare, caregiving, family, housing, financial assistance and more based on your individual circumstances.

Learn more: https://supportgowhere.life.gov.sg

💬 Talk to Someone You Trust

Formal support is important, but don’t underestimate the value of your personal network.

If you’re looking for work or going through a difficult period, consider:

Letting trusted friends and family know you’re looking for opportunities.
Reaching out to former colleagues, managers or mentors for introductions.
Speaking honestly with recruiters about your circumstances.
Accepting practical help when it’s offered, whether that’s someone reviewing your CV, introducing you to a hiring manager or simply checking in on how you’re doing.

Sometimes the next opportunity doesn’t come from another online application. It comes from a conversation.

Images: Envato