You’re doing better than you think you are
and thoughts on turning 35
Season’s changing on my side of the world and I’m here for it. For four consecutive days, Berlin has entered an alternate universe where it’s 17 degrees Celsius, the sun is out, and the people are wearing shorts and smiling at one another. Laughter and Aperol Spritz are palpable in the air, and it makes me feel giddy.
Spring is coming. And so is my birthday! I thought of writing spring and summer travel plans but I’m in a reflective mood, as it always happen when my birthday is just around the corner, so here we are.
Entering mid-30s, right smack in the middle at 35, is humbling. I really want to say it does not affect me. That it’s just another year, that aging is a privilege. In some ways, yes it is. On the other hand, it’s terrifying to reach this age without the traditional markers of success I thought I’d have at this point. A career, house, car, kid, or even a dog. Not that I’d want all those, there is just a lingering, pressing feeling of being left behind. When your friends live in big houses with house helpers, and you’re here trying to figure out your next step, it makes you question your timeline.
Why is this the measure of “doing good” in life? What if my version of success deviates from this? If not this, then how do you measure a life? How do you know you won’t wake up at 90 full of regret?
I’m writing this as more a note to self. These are my sobering 3 a.m. thoughts, refined in the morning. If it resonates with you, I’m glad it found you and that you’re doing better too. 💖
1. You’re building an intentional life (even if you don’t have the full picture yet)
In the past few months, my focus has shifted from chasing external validation to creating a life that’s intentional and that’s mine. There isn’t a ten-year plan printed and laminated. But there is a vision board. There is movement and direction. And that’s enough for now.
It’s frightening to have no job, as an Asian living abroad and in a currently chaotic world. This has given me time and space, however, to really think of what I want to do from the perspective of the present version of me, not what 2016 me planned. There’s a lot of untangling, unlearning, and navigating uncertainty. I keep coming back to the journal prompt I saw - if you’re not afraid to fail, what would you do? And it was a good starting point.
If money isn’t an issue, I’d love to travel full-time, among other things.
2. You’re celebrating small wins
As someone who’s felt stuck from analysis paralysis, with so many ideas but can’t execute, minimum viable wins make up my days. These are things that seem so silly and small but elicit a dopamine hit anyway. It makes me feel productive and still inching towards goals no matter how slow or inconsequential.
There are days when I celebrate uploading a new Youtube vlog after so many months, applying for a job, and signing up for an online course all in one day. There are days when I celebrate just showering, putting on clothes, and taking a 10-minute walk in the snow.
It’s easy to forget that these small things, the baby steps, when stacked together lead to something big. The simple act of making your own breakfast can make you feel like you’re human and not entirely what the voices in your brain are telling you. There may be times when no one celebrates the small wins with you, not even your partner or best friend, and that’s okay. The important thing is you celebrate you.
3. You’re letting go of perfectionism
Perfectionism is often code for: I’m too scared to be vulnerable, and I’m terrified that if I try, everyone will see I’m not as capable as I pretend to be. For most of my life, I’ve somehow lived with the motto “fake it til you make it”. It worked until it didn’t.
It’s also related to the point above, it’s addictive to stay in the limbo, in the “I’m stuck” space. Because there nobody can judge you. You can get to experience the perfect outcome you’ve drawn in your head without the risks.
It started with writing on Substack. I never thought my words and photos would resonate, yet there are 600+ of you here. That’s still a surprise, honestly! Now I’m moving into other platforms (YouTube, Instagram) which feel riskier because I can’t hide behind paragraphs anymore. My face is visible. My voice is heard.
It has been a year since I wanted to do this but told myself I was “waiting for the right time.” Waiting for better lighting. Better equipment. A clearer niche. A stronger hook. In reality, I wanted the first post to be so perfect it would go viral immediately.
Lately, I’ve been experimenting with doing things imperfectly. Hitting publish with that uncomfortable, tingly feeling still in my chest. And you know what? nothing catastrophic happened.
4. You’re noticing triggers, patterns, negative self-talk
It took me all my adult life to learn this. I came from an Asian family that screams in anger and then offers you food afterwards without any apology or processing. It took me a while to learn to name emotions, to identify triggers, to stop before going head first in a spiral. Therapy helped a lot. So did journaling.
This is one of those long-term things that will always be a work in progress. The thoughts are still there. I still slip. I still say or do the wrong things. But at 34, I know how to catch myself faster than I used to. I have a better grasp of how to dig myself out of there now than I ever had. And that feels like growth.
5. You know your boundaries and energy
Saying no without a lengthy excuse, without guilt for three days after. I learned that you can show up for the people you love without losing yourself in the process. You can hold compassion for someone’s hard season without absorbing their chaos and negativity as your own.
I don’t know when it happened exactly. There’s just a day when I felt completely okay saying what makes me uncomfortable and identifying what doesn’t align. No dramatic turning point, just a quiet moment when I said, “that doesn’t work for me,” and being able to communicate that clearly and with care.
6. You have a supportive village
I’ve read this somewhere: to have a village means to be a villager.
This is for anyone but especially for those living away from home or abroad. There’s no family down the street, no childhood friends a short drive away. So finding your chosen people matters more than it might anywhere else. It doesn’t matter if it’s 3 friends or a 20-person group chat. What matters is that they show up, that you show up in return. People who know your story. People who don’t need you to be okay when you’re not. People who ask about your life more than the cordial how are you? and actually wait for the real answer.
The harder thing, the thing that took longer, was learning to let them in. To say I’m not doing well without immediately following it with but I’m fine, don’t worry. To receive without deflecting and to ask for help without feeling like a burden or a project.
My circle has gotten smaller as I’ve gotten older. I’ve failed as a villager many times. I’ve also become a better one, at least I hope so.
The thread here is this: I’m not in survival mode anymore. Fight or flight mode is off. But it’s taking me a little bit of time to recognize it.
For so long, everything felt urgent. Decisions had to be the right one, and they felt permanent, mistakes felt catastrophic, and taking breaks felt irresponsible.
Now, nothing is on fire. Yet I’m still bracing. For what, I don’t know.
Maybe turning 35 isn’t about having the house, the title, and the perfectly curated life. Maybe it’s about realizing that stability can be quiet, that growth can be slow, and that doing okay doesn’t always look impressive and ostentatious from the outside.
I’m building, I’m breathing, and that’s what matters.
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this rather reflective and moody piece. See you on the next one! Write me in the comments what kind of things you’d want to read?