The One Where Maya Redefines Resilience

Long after her team had left, Maya lingered in the silence of her corner office. The city lights bled through the office window, washing everything in a soft gold.

For nearly two decades, she’d built a reputation as a dependable leader—calm, sharp, resourceful in every storm. But tonight, she felt unmoored. Things in her industry are changing faster than ever. Layoffs loom large. She felt fiercely protective of her team, but every choice seemed to backfire, every effort questioned. Every conversation with her senior management was only a reminder of the mounting uncertainty.

What should I do? she wondered, her mind racing for answers, but coming up short.

Her response to a crisis has always been to do more. To stretch further, to keep pushing forward at all costs and work harder than anyone else on the floor. But this time, the cost of overdoing felt heavy. It didn’t seem to solve much, only complicated things further. It made her feel disconnected from the very team she was working so hard to protect.

In the quiet, her gaze fell on a small paper lantern on her shelf—a gift from a mentor years ago. As she turned it over in her hands, a memory surfaced: “When the road is unclear,” her mentor had said, “sometimes all you can do is trust your own light and keep hope burning, even if it’s small. That’s what gets you through.”

A long breath escaped her. Maya realised she’d been trying to outthink the chaos—working harder, pushing more, refusing to let herself stumble. But hope and faith in herself had slowly drained away, and with it, her resilience.

In all this frantic hustle, she realised she’d disconnected from her emotions. She’d been negligent of the heavy burden she was carrying all by herself. The busyness kept her distracted from getting in touch with the helplessness she felt being in this situation.

She paused, hand on the lantern, feeling the weight of that realisation settle. All these years, she’d seen resilience as relentless endurance, iron will. It was toughing it up and powering through. But maybe it’s also knowing when to push hard and when to soften, pause, and realign.

For months, she’s been hustling without taking a breather, without pausing to feel her feelings or processing her experience of the umpteen ups and downs corporate life has been recently.

Maya closed her eyes and, for the first time in weeks, stopped shunning the inner voice of doubt. Instead, she whispered to herself: I may not have all the answers, but I have walked through fire before. I recognise I have no control over the outcome, but I won’t let that come in the way of my efforts. I will do my best, and let the rest unfold.

From that moment, she changed her daily question. No longer, “How do I fix this?” but, “What do I need to attend to right now?” Some days, the answer was managing her team’s morale, battling the questions from senior management, or retaining that key account. On other days, it was taking care of herself and her emotions.

Instead of frantically pushing herself to do more and neglecting her well-being in the process, she learned to take care of herself. Taking the pauses she needed, indulging in activities that grounded her, allowing herself to do things that sparked her inner light and make it shine brighter.

Each day, she caught herself when anxiety surged, returning to that touchstone of trust. She spoke with her team honestly, not pretending certainty, but sharing her hope for what they could build together if they stayed open, courageous, and focused.

Slowly, as she leaned into hope, her leadership took on a new depth. Her resilience was no longer brittle; it was alive, calm, creative, and agile.  Those around her felt it too. Morale improved. The fog of doubt thinned. And even in the toughest meetings, Maya sensed a quiet wisdom guiding her—a wisdom born not of knowledge, but of trusting.

In time, things shifted. Some challenges dissolved, others remained. But Maya was never as shaken again. She understood now: Resilience is not about forcefully powering through. It’s the art of knowing when to push hard and when to pause and realign. It is about staying true to who we are, and processing setbacks so we find our fullest expression of who we can be.

This is the true heart of leadership—a lantern that, when tended, lights the way not just for us, but for all who walk beside us.

We’ve all been there, where Maya is, our resilience tested and hope withering. A few questions that I ask myself when I feel this way:

1. What are some signs that I can recognise as indicators that I’m disconnected from myself and my feelings?
2. What practices help me reconnect with my inner self amidst that busyness and hustle? How can I make more time for them?
3. What will help me recognise whether I need to push hard and toughen up or step back and soften in any situation? How can I stay attuned to this insight and act in alignment with what I need most?