I spent almost two weeks in Japan, and it might’ve been one of the most quietly meaningful things I’ve done in a while. Not because something huge happened, no life-altering revelations, no epiphanies on a mountaintop, but because it’s been a while since I felt this kind of energy. Just a steady feeling I didn’t realise I missed: being present. The feeling of being surrounded by people, sharing moments that made me feel alive, light, connected. The cities, Tokyo, Shizuoka, Kyoto, Osaka, were incredible, yes. But what made it special wasn’t just the places. It was the experience itself. The people I shared it with. The way it all came together.
The trip was hosted by my friends Cherie and Jean two incredible women I’d followed online for a while. Cherie has this big-sister-meets-bestie energy. Smart, thoughtful, and present in a way that makes conversations with her feel like you’re learning without even realising it. Jean brings more of an older-sister calm-steady, grounded, and the kind of person you naturally want to listen to when she speaks.
Together, they felt like the kind of women you wish you grew up with Silicon Valley and Wall Street big sisters, but also the kind who’d debrief your Hinge dates over matcha. They casually drop AI patents and emotional intelligence in the same sentence. Just cool, grounded, and strangely comforting.
I had never met them in person before, but somehow it didn’t feel like a first meeting. They felt familiar like the cool older cousins you didn’t know you had, but suddenly want to ask for advice and skincare tips.
Meeting them in real life was like picking up an ongoing group chat that had suddenly come to life. One minute I was listening to their podcast, and the next we were exchanging icon references with the icons themselves. It just clicked. And somewhere along the way, we really started to get to know each other and now? we’re friends.
We were a small group of twelve. Lawyers, doctors, an AI consultant, entrepreneurs, tech and finance professionals, and more. Everyone brought their own stories, passions, and energy. They were smart, curious, and just genuinely good people to be around. Traveling with them made everything feel richer, fuller like the experience meant more because it was shared.
And now I’m here sitting in Changi Airport, waiting for my flight back to Perth trying to put words to what I’m taking home with me. Not the itinerary. Not the highlights. But the inward unfolding.
1. Kindness Travels Faster Than Any Train
I hadn’t met anyone in the group in person before but somehow, by the end, it felt like I’d known them for years. There was an ease, a sense of familiarity that grew quickly and quietly. On our last day, people left me handwritten notes small gestures that held so much weight. Messages like:
“You’re radiant.”
“You’re fun, intentional, and grounded.”
“You’re the drive behind the group dropping their professional act.
“I love your calm and kindness presence.”
“I’m so inspired by your business mindset.”
Reading those words, I paused. Maybe I don’t need to change who I am maybe I just need to keep showing up. Keep being real. I didn’t expect that kind of recognition, especially not so soon. But it meant everything.
It reminded me that kindness has currency. That energy travels even when you’re not trying to impress, just being yourself. It made me realize: maybe my spark the part of me that holds space, connects, uplifts isn’t small. It’s sacred. And it’s worth protecting.
2. Humility, Identity & That Feeling of Being Seen
We shared so many stories about where we’re from, what we’re building, and what we’re scared of. Some of us were entrepreneurs. Some of us, millionaires. But what surprised me most wasn’t the titles or the success it was the honesty.
People opened up about still living frugally even after hitting seven figures. About not knowing if they were doing enough. About carrying imposter syndrome, quietly, even with accolades and achievements stacked behind them. It reminded me that we’re all figuring it out in our own way. And in that space, I felt something I didn’t expect to feel so quickly, safe, seen, inspired.
Now, sitting here at the airport, surrounded by the quiet hum of transit and strangers in motion, I feel cracked open in the best way. Like I’m leaving with something deeper than memories or keepsakes like I’m bringing home a version of myself I’d forgotten was possible.
3. A Version of Myself I’d Been Missing
The idea of hanging out exploring Japan with a group of friends is because I needed to feel like myself again. The end of last year was rough heartbreak, burnout, the kind of unraveling that happens slowly, silently. I kept going, kept working hard but inside, I was shrinking. I looked up one day and didn’t recognise the path I was on.
When I signed up, I remember filling out a section in the deck (that my friends made) I wrote something like: “fresh outlook.” Something about this trip, being in a new place, with people and started to gently piece me back together. Through trains and quiet countryside hikes. Through shared stories and real questions. Through the kind of listening that doesn’t rush to respond, but actually wants to understand. It felt like free therapy minus the $200 invoice. Twelve of us. Seven days. Casually unlocking things I hadn’t made space for in a long time.
I signed up thinking I needed time off. In reality, I needed to unpack six months of emotional backlog in the company of twelve high-functioning strangers, a countryside hike, and a soba noodle coma.
Somewhere between the hikes, the conversations, and the quiet, I started letting go. Letting go of the things I no longer subscribe to the doubts, the noise, the stories that kept me small. Mostly, I thank myself for leaving. For knowing it wasn’t enough. For choosing peace. For choosing a version of myself I’d been missing.
4. Below My Means, Not Below My Joy
My relationship with money is still a learning curve with a dash of overthinking. I save, I invest, and while I don’t always enjoy spending, I do treat myself now and then. At one point on the trip, I caught myself wondering if I was spending “too much” (mildly dramatic pause, then a shrug). But honestly? No regrets. I bought a pair of Golden Goose sneakers and a custom Rimowa suitcase both picked with intention, not impulse. Quality over chaos. A little indulgent, zero buyer’s remorse.
It’s not about guilt. It’s about honesty.
I want to spend below my means but never below my joy. I want to know what’s actually worth investing in.
This trip reminded me: I don’t just want to spend I want to align. I want my money to feel expansive, not performative. I want to invest in things that last. To be intentional more disciplined, but also more forgiving. Especially with myself.
5. Capturing Moments, Letting Go of Performance
I took more photos on this trip than I have in years. I don’t really draw anymore. Once my main creative outlet, now replaced by overanalysing hotel lighting and deciding which side of my face looks more “emotionally well-adjusted.” (It’s the face front, usually.)
Framing things, directing angles, it still scratches that creative itch. But posting them? That’s where the joy starts packing its bags. I’m told I should “share more.” And I want to. In theory. But the second I think about captions, filters, and who might misread the tone of a noodle shot, I lose interest.
Maybe it’s perfectionism. Maybe it’s a survival instinct. Or maybe, I’m just getting better at creating things for myself, and not the algorithm. Which is either very healthy… or just a sign I’m entering my private, offline era. Either way, I’m into it.
6. Postcards to Myself
Before I head back to Perth, there are a few things I want to tuck into my suitcase and carry forward.
I’ve learned that healing doesn’t always arrive with fireworks, sometimes it shows up quietly, on mountaintops, or in the stillness of a hotel bathtub. I’ve also realised it’s okay to spend below my means, but never below my self-worth. That joy should be intentional, and so should my silence. That kindness is a form of currency and it’s worth spending often.
I’m learning to ask more questions, even the scary ones. Especially the scary ones. To be frugal with fear, but generous with vision. And maybe most importantly: I don’t need to prove anything to anyone but myself. I just need to keep becoming.
Thanks for reading this far.
