Respect your maintenance guy!! (My Old-soul Twinkle)

Disclaimer: This series, “My Old-soul Twinkle,” is my heartfelt attempt to capture the endless stream of thoughts racing through my mind. At times, these musings may seem confusing—or even a little "out there"—but I genuinely welcome your counterpoints and insights. Dive in and share your thoughts!


Whether it is the newlywed bride crushed by the invisible weight of emotional labor, the corporate employee drowning in the "next task" without room to breathe, or the quiet caretakers of our everyday world, we are burning out our maintenance crew.

My old soul never understood some of the ways our systems work. Like the obsession with the starting line. We throw parties for the ribbon-cutting, “heavily” celebrate the newlywed couple, and cheer for the fresh graduate landing their first big job. Over time, we have collectively built a society that deeply appreciates, demands, and richly rewards primarily creators and builders.

And look, there is absolutely no harm in that. Building new “things” is exciting and super important for moving forward.

But somewhere along the way, we made the "shiny and new" the absolute centre of our universe. I struggle to understand it. Because I am of the understanding that while building takes talent, keeping things alive takes soul.

We are so focused on the “what's new in building” that we look right past the people keeping the “building” from collapsing. We rarely appreciate, let alone reward them for upkeep or maintenance, acknowledging efforts while no one is applauding.

A young woman steps off the graduation stage, diploma in hand, radiating potential. She enters her first corporate role filled with idealism, fresh theories, and ambition. The company celebrates her "new perspective" and high energy.
Fast forward ten years. The initial spark has settled into a heavy, daily grind. She is no longer recognised for “thinking out of the box”; she is now the reliable anchor holding the department together. She quietly fixes the daily processes, preventing daily disasters. Yet, because her work keeps things stable rather than new, her steady “labour” is taken for granted. She is exhausted, wondering when doing her job well meant becoming invisible.

Does this sound familiar? And it is just not the corporate role I am talking about. We all must have felt this—maybe I am yet to comprehend whether this is for better or worse.

Because the spotlight fades, and the reality of a “creative life” sets in. The “settling” should never be considered boring or unprogressive, but should be celebrated as well.

Because true art isn't just the burst of inspiration; it’s the grueling, unglamorous maintenance of the craft. It’s sitting at the desk for hours, writing bad drafts, reading, editing, and fighting through self-doubt. The world loves the finished book, but it ignores the mundane, daily discipline required to keep the creative mind sharp and healthy.

Because running a home is just not automated, it is the relentless daily grind of running a home, raising kids, and juggling the expectations of relatives and friends.True self-maintenance requires lowering the bar to "good enough," delegating the invisible load, and realizing that protecting our own peace is the only way to keep the entire family ecosystem from collapsing.

We need to start appreciating the people (and the parts of ourselves) that keep life running smoothly. It is time to reclaim the value of maintenance. Let’s start praising the consistency it takes to keep a marriage healthy, the discipline it takes to stay in a career and a healthy life, and the quiet dignity of taking care of what we already have.

In the end, what really keeps us going isn’t constant achievement – it’s gentle, steady care. The world cheers for big beginnings and loud success, but it’s the quiet maintenance of our minds, relationships, work, and communities that truly holds everything together. When we say no, take real breaks, accept “good enough,” and protect our peace, we honor the often-invisible work that keeps us sane and whole.

After all, what’s the point of building a beautiful life or world if we don’t care for the souls who hold it up – especially our own?