What a Submarine Taught Me About Quiet Resilience

I didn’t expect to come home from Sydney thinking about submarines. But here we are.

On a recent visit to Darling Harbour and an unplanned trip to the Australian National Maritime Museum, I explored one of the old subs. I had zero expectations, but I certainly was not ready for how intense it felt: everything metal, close, and cold. Up to 90 people living and breathing for weeks on end in this space. No space to stretch, or get away from sounds, smells, conversations, or to be simply alone.

Walking through the tight, metallic hallways of a submarine, the sheer discipline it must have taken to live and work in such confined spaces struck me. The air felt heavy. The quarters were narrow. Every inch of space was functional, not personal. The thought of surviving months underwater - away from sunlight, space, and familiar comforts - was almost unimaginable, especially as I sit writing this looking out at the green rolling farmland.

Then, there on the harbour, just meters away, but centuries apart, the same feeling persisted aboard the replica of Captain Cook’s Endeavour.

Cramped bunks, close quarters, incredibly low ceilings, constant movement - and yet, people did it. They adapted. They found strength and rhythm in the limitations.

It made me realise resilience often grows in the places where comfort disappears.

That idea was only reinforced later that day when I had a chance encounter with Michelle Lee, an extraordinary woman who solo-rowed across the Pacific Ocean. Just her, her boat, and the endless expanse of water. She spoke about the silence -the isolation, the moments of fear -and how she learned to transform them into focus and purpose.. She said something that’s stayed with me:

“You don’t become resilient in one big moment. You build it every day, in the small decisions to keep going.”

Part of her preparation was working alongside experts in learning to meditate, developing a mindset, and rewiring the brain. Techniques, strategies, and processes helped her prepare to overcome obstacles and achieve her goals… especially when the going gets tough.

That perspective made me think about my own world - about running a design studio, raising children, and balancing the creative life from home.: staying steady through uncertainty, holding vision when it’s easier to let go, and finding calm in chaos.

In the creative industries, we often talk about inspiration but rarely about grit - the persistence that keeps creativity alive when energy runs low, when projects stall, or when self-doubt creeps in. I’ve learned that resilience doesn’t come from toughness alone. It comes from adaptability, self-awareness, and the ability to pause without quitting.

The people who lived on those ships, and Michelle Lee on her solo journey - they all shared one thing: a deep trust in their own capacity to endure and adjust. They didn’t fight their environment; they worked with it.

I left the museum that day, reminded that resilience isn’t built in grand gestures or big adventures. It’s built in small, steady moments - the choices we make to keep going, even when the wind’s against us.