The Neediness of Needs
I need this. I need that. How often are our needs just burdens?
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9/6/20268 min read
Contentment is supposed to be simple. It’s the idea that once you have everything you need, you’ll finally feel at peace.
But for most of us, that moment never really comes.
When we’re young, we chase academic success and meaningful relationships with family and friends. As we grow older, those needs evolve. Good grades turn into career goals. Friendships turn into the desire for something deeper, a life partner, someone to build a future with. And even beyond that, new goals keep appearing. A better job. Financial stability. Children. Early retirement.
Some people think that’s where the cycle ends.
But even in retirement, the needs don’t disappear. They just change form. There is still the desire for a sense of belonging, for a comfortable life, for good health, and for something meaningful to wake up to each day. The question doesn’t go away. It just sounds different now: what should I do with the rest of my time?
It feels like there is always something else to work towards.
And even when one goal is achieved, the satisfaction rarely lasts. It fades, and we move on to the next thing. Sometimes, we forget to even feel accomplished before moving onto the next one. The cycle repeats itself so naturally that we hardly question it. We just assume this is what life is supposed to be.
But that raises a question I couldn’t ignore.
If our lives are made up of chasing one need after another, when do we actually feel content? And if the feeling is always temporary, are we really chasing contentment at all, or just the brief relief that comes right before the next pursuit begins?
I didn’t have an answer to that question at the time. I only knew that I was about to enter a new phase of life, one that I thought would give me some clarity.
I was actually looking forward to National Service. At 18, I didn’t know much about what to expect, but I assumed I would go through the standard experience like everyone else. Train hard, suffer a bit, and come out stronger.
Instead, I was posted to Kranji Camp, School V.
I had been given a PES status of C2, which made no sense to me at the time. I had passed my pre-enlistment IPPT, I wasn’t injured, and I didn’t have any serious medical conditions. It was only after checking with the medical clinic during Basic Military Training(BMT) that I found out why. Months back, I had seen an eye specialist for an allergic condition. It was recorded as serious enough for the SAF to decide that I should avoid dusty environments. That was enough to take me out of combat training entirely.
Just like that, my idea of National Service was overhauled.
Instead of the regular combat vocations, I was assigned as a service security trooper. My job was simple. Open and close the camp gate for vehicles. Check IDs. Repeat.
At first, it sounds like a blessing. People around me, on the outside, even said I was lucky to have such a “slack” vocation. But that’s not how any of us, security troopers, actually felt.
Every day felt the same.
Put on the uniform. Go for a shift. Stand there for hours. Go back to the bunk. Wait for the next shift, or for lunch, or for the day to end. Then do it all over again.
After the first week, there was nothing new to learn. Nothing to look forward to. The only thing everyone looked forward to was ORD. The end date. The one point in time when all of this would finally be over.
In between, we just tried to pass time.
One game to another. One show to another. Scrolling endlessly on our phones. I had close friends there, no doubt about that. It’s almost impossible not to, when you live together five days a week. But even that wasn’t enough.
Nothing really stuck. Nothing felt meaningful for long.
I was physically fine, but mentally, I was drained. It felt like I was just waiting for time to pass. Living for the sake of getting through the next day.
When I went home on weekends, my mum could tell something was off. I didn’t even have to say anything. My face said it for me. Something was wrong, and I didn’t know how to explain it.
I had everything I was supposed to need. A stable routine, friends, time to rest - more than enough time.
But I still felt empty.
That feeling followed me everywhere, even outside of camp.
One weekend, I went to church like I always did. Nothing about that day was supposed to be different. The same songs, the same people, the same routine.
But something felt off.
When the worship started, I couldn’t bring myself to sing. The words were familiar, but they felt distant. I realised I didn’t mean what I was singing. Not anymore. I was just going through the motions, the same way I was in camp.
And in that moment, it hit me.
I had been living like everything depended on what I could achieve or feel. Whether it was success, relationships, or even just getting through each day, I was constantly looking for something to make life feel meaningful. And every time, it came up short.
Standing there, I felt exposed. There wasn’t anything left to distract me. No routines, no entertainment, no friends around me to fill the silence.
Just the question I had been avoiding.
What was I actually living for?
That was when I broke.
I remember going back to camp that Monday and crying, in the bunk, when no one was around. I knew I couldn’t keep going like this. I was tired of trying to fill that emptiness with things that never lasted.
And for the first time in a long while, I turned back to God.
Not because my situation had changed, but because I finally recognised that none of those things I had been chasing could give me what I was looking for. Not success. Not comfort. Not even the idea of having someone by my side.
What I needed was something steady. Something that didn’t change depending on how I felt or how my life was going. Someone who knew what I was going through. Someone who could answer the question I was wrestling with.
I needed God. (among all the needs in the world, this may be the only one you really need)
In that quiet moment, I was reminded of something I had always known but never really held on to. That I was not alone. That my life was not random. That there was a purpose beyond just getting through each day.
Nothing around me changed after that. I still had to book in the next day. I still had the same duties, the same routine.
But something in me shifted.
For the first time in a long while, I felt at peace.
And that peace wasn’t just a feeling. It showed up in how I lived.
I found myself waking up with a reason to start the day. Instead of just passing time, I began preparing for what was ahead. I started learning Excel, knowing it would help me when I eventually entered university. I spent time reading the Bible, not out of routine, but because I wanted to. I even started a small Christian blog, just to put my thoughts into words and share what I was learning.
Even my duties in camp felt different. The work itself didn’t change, but my perspective did. Opening the gate, checking IDs, standing through long shifts. It no longer felt meaningless. I saw it as something I could do faithfully, something I could do with joy, knowing that even this was part of something bigger than myself.
The circumstances were the same.
But I wasn’t.
That change stayed with me even after National Service ended.
Now, as a Year 2 business student at Singapore Management University, I find myself in a completely different environment, but facing a familiar kind of pressure. Around me, everyone seems to know what they are working towards. Securing internships. Building portfolios. Planning for where they want to be in five or ten years.
There is a constant sense that you need to have it all figured out.
Before, that would have unsettled me. I would have compared myself to others and wondered if something was wrong with me. Why didn’t I have the same level of ambition? Why didn’t I feel driven towards the same goals?
Was I just being lazy? Was I falling behind?
But after what I went through, those questions no longer carry the same weight.
It’s not that I reject the importance of working hard or setting goals. I still study for my finals. I still apply for internships. I still try to build skills that will prepare me for the future.
But I no longer see these things as what gives my life meaning.
There is a certain kind of ambition that I see around me, the desire to maximise success, to reach the highest possible outcome, whether that is wealth, status, or recognition. And while I understand it, I no longer feel the need to chase it in the same way.
A comfortable life, a stable career, these are enough for me.
Not because I lack drive, but because I no longer believe that pushing endlessly for more will lead to lasting contentment.
What changed is not what I do, but why I do it.
I no longer feel the same pressure to have everything planned out. I no longer feel like I need to constantly prove myself through achievements. Instead, I live with the understanding that my life is not fully in my control, and that I do not need it to be.
What matters to me now is simpler.
To do my best in whatever is in front of me, and to trust that God is in control of the outcome.
He's in control of it all.
That has taken away a burden I didn’t even realise I was carrying.
The need to always know what comes next. The need to measure myself against others. The need to find my worth in what I achieve. The need to know what is my unique selling point.
Those needs used to define how I saw my life.
Not anymore.
In the end, I realised the problem was never the needs themselves.
There will always be something to work towards. Another goal, another expectation, another version of life that seems just slightly better than the one I have now.
But I no longer believe that reaching those things will make me feel complete.
Contentment, for me, is no longer found at the end of the next achievement. It is found in knowing that my life already has purpose, even in the ordinary, even in the in-between.
The purpose of knowing God and loving others in response to the love He has shown me.
The needs are still there. But they no longer have a hold on me.
I don’t need to have everything figured out. I don’t need to control what comes next.
My role is simple:
To trust in the Lord with all my heart, and not lean on my own understanding, and to keep doing my best in the seasons He places me in, for He will make my paths straight.