The Hustler in Me That Just Can’t Stop Hustling

Me conducting media training in schools

8 out of 10 times, my one-to-one meetings end the same way:

“How the heck do you have time to do everything you do?”

It usually happens after I’ve shared bits of my story—the many hats I wear, the paths I’ve taken, the unexpected side hustles I’ve turned into something meaningful.

But only recently did I realise something fundamental:

I’ve never stopped hustling.

Not since Secondary 2.

My first gig? Pumping helium balloons at an event.

$3 an hour.

(Pretty sure my parents had no idea.)

I blew every cent at the arcade, battling through Tekken and King of Fighters. HAHA!

I’m the youngest in the family. My dad retired before I completed my studies.

There wasn’t any direct pressure, but I think I quietly placed it on myself—to not be a burden, to not rely too much on my parents for pocket money.

So, I hustled.

Back in the early 2000s, we didn’t have Google Calendar or Notion. I carried a chunky organiser notebook everywhere, crammed with scribbles and scratched-out plans. I would get genuinely anxious if a week wasn’t fully booked.

I freelanced like my life depended on it—because it did:

• I was that invisible videographer at corporate events

• I ran media training and service workshops in schools

• I did some modelling gigs

• I operated a Photo Booth machine I imported from Manchester, UK for weddings and events

It was fast, fun, and freeing.

I could sustain my lifestyle, go on solo travels, date, and have enough to enjoy my independence.

I had no car loan, no mortgage, no kids. Just me, myself, and I.

But fast forward to today—

I’m a parent of two young kids, married to a self-employed spouse, and still self-driven.

Somewhere along the way, I went into overdrive.

My professional life? Fully high-functioning.

People trust me to run things.

They believe in my potential.

They value my stability and credibility.

I’m the person who motivates others, who shows up for the community, who gets things done.

But in the background, my mind races:

• How do I stay relevant in the job market for the next decade?

• How do I continue to grow so I can still demand a salary that meets my family’s growing needs?

• Am I gonna be ok after I hit 50?

• What’s my edge in a world where good isn’t always good enough?

The job market isn’t kind right now.

Layoffs. Restructuring. Silent exits.

And in all that noise, I ask myself:

Where do I stand in all of this?

Here’s the part that often goes unseen—

Since my second child was born, I’ve been functioning on very little sleep.

I’m the main overnight caregiver. I’ll put him down to sleep around 9 pm and most nights, I fall asleep right next to him.

Then I’m up before his midnight feed—groggy but wired—opening my laptop to finish work that couldn’t fit into daylight hours.

Then another feed. Then maybe a few hours of broken sleep—before another day begins.

Here’s the thing we don’t talk about enough:

When you’re high-functioning, no one really asks how you’re doing.

When you’re capable, people assume you’re coping.

But what does it actually take to be that high-performing professional and the present, emotionally available millennial dad and the supportive partner and the long-term planner all at once?

The truth? I don’t have the answer.

Not for you. Not even for myself, most days.

It’s easy to say “slow down” or “drop something.”

But if you don’t find peace in that decision—if your mind still races while your hands are still—it’s not rest. It’s just guilt with a side of anxiety.

So maybe all I can do is this:

Fall back on the life principles that got me here.

Keep showing up with good intentions.

Keep believing that effort with heart will lead to good things.

Because the hustler in me isn’t just chasing success.

He’s chasing security.

He’s chasing clarity.

He’s chasing a future he can feel proud of.

And for now, that’s enough.

______________________

If any part of this resonates with you—whether you’re a parent, a freelancer, or just someone trying to hold it all together—I’d love to hear how you’re navigating it.

How do you keep going when everything feels stretched?

Let’s have the conversation most people are afraid to start.