There is such a thing as meaningful hardship: the invisible threads between then and now, it is the kind of difficulty that doesn’t just exhaust you; it refines you, acting as the silent architect of your character.
For a long time, I viewed hardship as a hefty word—a season to survive, a storm to weather, or a series of unfortunate events that simply stood in my way of life. But lately, as I navigate the relentless rhythm of being a chef’s wife, a corporate servant and a mother of two, my perspective has shifted. I realised that the most profound parts of who I am today weren’t forged in the sun, but in the shadows of what I once called struggle.
The Tropical Childhood
When I look back at my childhood in Asia, the memories are the vibrance of food scenes and humid afternoons. However, beneath that warmth was a different kind of heat: the quiet and unwavering fortitude of my mother. In our culture, the narrative was often rigid. Women belonged in the kitchen, and their ambitions were considered secondary to the survival and comfort of the family. I watched my mother sacrificing her own potential—a brilliant, sharp mind tucked away behind the repetitive domestic duties of a busy household alongside a full time desk job.
Back then, I saw her lack of career support as a hardship. I viewed our environment constraints as something to escape. But today, as I work from my tiny apartment in London, prepping for a week of back-to-back strategy sessions while my husband juggling restaurant businesses with school runs in between, I see it differently. My mother wasn’t just getting by. Instead, she has mastered the art of resilience.
She taught me that we can be wrecked by the day’s demands and still wake up with enough grace to do it all over again. That early exposure to the invisible weight of womanhood wasn’t a burden; it was my foundation. It gave me the grit to pursue work-life balance not as a destination, but as a continuous, lived practice.
The Corporate Grind vs. Personal Growth
Fast forward to my life today in the high-stakes corporate world. People often ask me how I manage everything. The truth? Most days, I feel like I am skydiving without a parachute and the only way is to take one step at a time. Transitioning into new leadership roles while my eldest starts primary school and youngest navigates nursery hasn’t been a walk in the park. It has been a roller-coaster of imposter syndrome and mental gymnastics.
There was a time when I thought professional success meant reaching a plateau of comfort. I thought the goal was to reach a point where things become easy. But I’ve learned that comfort is a dangerous illusion. When I moved to London five years ago, I took a pay cut and a smaller role just to find my footing. It felt like a setback—a hardship I had to endure to survive in a new city.
In reality, that step back was the most meaningful pivot of my career. It forced me to find my voice in a new culture and to prove to myself that my worth wasn’t tied to a title, but to my ability to adapt. Today, when I am dealing with difficult stakeholders or a project that feels impossible, I lean on that history. I realised that the hardship of being overqualified or undervalued was actually an invitation to step up and lead from within. This is where true career growth happens—in the friction, not the flow.
The Chef’s Wife: A Unique Kind of Endurance
Living with a chef adds a layer of complexity that few truly understand. Our schedules are often not on the same page, our family time can subject to margin of uncertainties, and the mental load of household errands can be demanding especially when both of us couldn’t find time. It is a paradox of being part of a team yet operating alone at times.
It is hard. At times, overwhelming. But when I sit down for that one luxury I cannot live without—ten minutes of doing absolutely nothing—I reflect on the purpose behind this hardship. We are building something. We are showing our children that a life of passion requires a life of discipline. My husband’s dedication to his craft and my own drive in the corporate world are two sides of the same coin: a commitment to excellence that refuses to settle for “good enough.”
My Reflection: The Beauty in the Struggle
We often try to protect our children from hardship, wanting their lives to be smoother than ours. But as I look at my kids, I hope they experience just enough meaningful hardship to find their own strength. I want them to know that pressure creates treasures and that the weight of responsibility is what makes them solid.
Life is not simple. It is a messy, beautiful, exhausting blend of childhood echoes and modern-day pressures. But I wouldn’t trade the hardship for a simpler version of myself. The struggle is where the meaning lives. As a woman striving to do it all, I have finally realised that the goal isn’t to be perfect. It is about being present through the hard parts, knowing they are the very things making me whole.