Observations from a Single Woman in Japan

It’s been three years since we broke up, and I haven’t had a boyfriend since.

I’m not even trying to find one.

These days, I genuinely enjoy spending time alone.

But recently, I suddenly found myself thinking about my ex — and I couldn’t stop crying.

It wasn’t because I missed him.

I have no lingering feelings for him at all.

Last year, I was overwhelmed by stress at work and ended up getting sick.

When I thought about how I had managed work stress in the past, I remembered him.

My ex was a tough person.

Whenever I was feeling down, he would immediately take me out to eat beef.

Yakiniku, shabu-shabu — he didn’t mind the cost.

He would just say, “You need strength.”

I’m a pretty simple person, so somehow, eating meat actually made me feel better.

Or maybe it was just the absurdity of it — that almost childish belief that “meat gives you strength” — like something out of a manga.

It made me laugh, and suddenly my worries felt less serious.

Last year, I asked my boss to reduce my workload.

I don’t think that was the wrong decision.

But I sometimes wonder — if I had still been with him, maybe we could have gotten through it together, just by eating meat and laughing.

And that thought made me cry.

I realized that what hurt wasn’t the breakup itself.

It was the loss of someone who could give me that kind of strength.

Ideally, I wanted to get promoted.

I wanted to work harder, push myself more.

I’m the kind of person who actually enjoys working.

So I don’t think I dislike work.

But last year was full of challenges, and I became exhausted.

I ran out of energy halfway through.

When I see people who are naturally tough, I feel a little envious.

I wish I had been stronger, more persistent.

But at the same time, there was a quiet voice inside me saying that I needed to step back and take things more gently.

And I couldn’t ignore it.

Somewhere deep down, I felt that I shouldn’t push myself any further.

I think these kinds of things are something you have to face on your own.

Whether you fight through it or step away, the important thing is to decide for yourself.

So I didn’t rely on anyone. I made the decision on my own.

But I realized then that, somewhere, I just wanted a place where I could admit that I was struggling.

That doesn’t mean I want a new relationship just to have someone absorb my stress.

To me, a relationship should be about sharing joy.

I don’t want to place my weakness onto someone else.

There’s no real conclusion to this.

I just wanted to leave these thoughts somewhere, like a quiet note to myself.

Lately, I’ve been hating my job a little too much.

I’ve already decided to leave my current workplace, and I’ve told my boss.

But for the sake of a smooth and peaceful transition, I plan to stay until next March. (I’m Japanese, after all — we value harmony.)

Even though I understand this logically, there are days when my heart can’t keep up with the stress.

So, to comfort myself, I made a small app.

I call it: “Resignation Countdown.”There are plenty of countdown apps out there, but I couldn’t find one with a cute widget.

So I decided to make my own.Of course, I don’t know how to code.

I built everything by asking Copilot for help.

I downloaded VS Code, followed instructions I didn’t fully understand, and installed extensions I didn’t really know the purpose of — just because the AI told me to.

I simply copied and pasted code from Copilot into VS Code, and whenever an error appeared, I copied the error message back into Copilot.

It took me about four hours, but somehow, I managed to connect my computer and smartphone with code and install my own widget app.

AI is amazing.

I could never build a real app on my own, but I felt a real sense of accomplishment creating something I actually wanted.

AI is amazing.

I almost gave up many times, but it kept encouraging me the whole way.

AI is amazing.It kept saying, “You’re almost there!” for four hours — even though it was never really “almost.”

I was so happy that I wanted to show it to a close colleague.

And then, something a little strange happened.

After eating lunch in a park, I took out my phone — and at that exact moment, a swallowtail butterfly gently landed on it for just a second.

It happened right when I opened my “Resignation Countdown.

”It felt as if the butterfly was saying, “You did great.

”It somehow felt like a good omen, so I decided to write it down here.

On weekends, I go to a book café.

It’s the perfect place where I can read while drinking coffee—my favorite place in the world.

I usually read books about self‑development or management philosophy.

Before I know it, I forget to drink my coffeeand become completely absorbed in reading.

The more I read, the deeper I sink into my own heart.

My inner world is quiet, cool, and comfortable.

It is deep, wide, and endless.

There are sparkling things and soft, floating things inside it,and I always end up staying there longer than I planned.

When I read, I eventually become captivated by my own thoughts.

When I was a student, I was part of a fairly competitive school band.

Before our final competition, I had the chance to receive one-on-one coaching from an alumna who was studying at a music college.

I was nervous because I had a solo, but she guided me gently.

Even though I practiced, I couldn’t seem to improve the way I wanted.

Then she gave me an unusual piece of advice:

“Try imagining the sound like fireworks bursting and scattering in the sky.”

I didn’t fully understand what she meant.But during our ensemble rehearsal, I tried playing while picturing fireworks spreading and fading in the night sky.

And then, my teacher suddenly said, “That’s it.”

I couldn’t really tell what I had done differently.

Recently, I’ve been using AI more often at work.

It’s incredibly convenient, and the quality and speed of my tasks have improved a lot.

But when I look at the workplace as a whole, the adoption of AI still feels slow.

I even joined a hackathon hosted by our DX department, and honestly, my impression was:

“Hmmm… this feels kind of halfway done…?”

It seemed like using AI had become the goal itself, and I couldn’t see *what* we were actually trying to change.

I feel like there’s a growing gap between “people who use AI with a clear purpose” and “people who are simply told to use AI without one.

”Still, the more I work with AI, the more I realize how much I love Japan’s “hands-on, human-centered work” and its honest, down-to-earth craftsmanship.

For example, the unspoken atmosphere you can only understand through years of experience, the small gestures that make communication smoother, and what people often call the Japanese “craftsman spirit.”

By the way, I’ve been using SONY’s Xperia ever since smartphones became common.

I know that for someone in design, the “mainstream” choice is usually the iPhone.

But I’ve always loved SONY’s philosophy— the idea that “engineers matter more than executives,” a belief that once made it “the SONY admired around the world.”

It’s a little stubborn, a little awkward, and incredibly beautiful.

No matter how advanced AI becomes, it will never be able to create this kind of “philosophy.”

When you first go through heartbreak, it feels like everything disappears.

All those moments that were once so joyful — laughing endlessly at silly jokes, going on dates and trips together, celebrating anniversaries, exchanging gifts, and feeling those sparkling emotions you never wanted to forget.

Thinking that all of it can suddenly vanish without a trace feels unbearably sad and lonely.

Right after a breakup, you can’t imagine loving someone else. And even if you did meet someone new, it feels impossible to build that kind of deep bond again from the beginning.

Even if you wanted to get back together, forcing it wouldn’t mean anything if your ex has already lost those feelings.

So you tell yourself that if you can’t go back, at least you want to wish them happiness instead of hating them.

You think things like:

“I’ll keep wishing for his happiness and health, even if I end up alone for the rest of my life.After all, he gave me so many wonderful memories.Because of him, I was able to experience real love.I’m grateful.I truly hope his life will be happy.”

Even though deep down, you’re actually devastated and heartbroken.

You might genuinely think poetic things like that for a few years.

But after enough time passes…

Wait.

WHAT???

He dumped ME???

And I’m supposed to care about that mediocre guy’s happiness and health??

Yeah… no.

I really, truly don’t care anymore. Not even a little.

Instead, I wish for my own happiness and health.

That’s it.

I stopped by CITY BAKERY for lunch today and ordered a tuna sandwich, a blueberry muffin, and cornbread.

It’s the café where Carrie once bought Samantha a brownie in my favorite American TV show, Sex and the City.

I had always wanted to visit the original New York location someday, so I was a little sad to hear that it had closed.

Meanwhile, the brand has become hugely popular in Japan and has expanded to 31 locations here.

When I was a child, I was good at drawing.

I was also good at writing.

Believing that talent should be nurtured, I went to an art school and majored in oil painting. The school was a place where many students dreamed of becoming professional artists, and my classmates were incredibly passionate about art.

But I didn’t feel that same level of passion. Unfortunately, I didn’t have extraordinary talent either. I was simply someone who could draw a little better than the average person.

Eventually, I gave up on the idea of working in a field related to art and got a job at a local bank. It wasn’t a job I particularly wanted, but it offered stability and a respectable title. People around me envied it, and having that title made it easy to gain trust. I also learned many valuable things at the bank and developed a strong work ethic. Looking back, I think the experience of working as a banker was not a bad part of my life.

But after seven years, I suddenly quit.I realized I still wanted to work in a creative field. Even if I didn’t have great talent, a life spent only chasing numbers felt unbearably dull. I wanted to create something with my own hands.

After leaving the bank, I enrolled in a web design school to learn practical skills. At the time, there were still very few web designers in Japan, and job opportunities in the field were growing rapidly. While learning Photoshop and Illustrator, I rediscovered the excitement I used to feel as a child when drawing or writing.

Later, I worked as a web designer for a yoga wear brand. Designing websites and promotional materials was fun, and I also enjoyed planning web-exclusive products and events.After changing jobs during the economic downturn caused by the pandemic, I now work at another company as a web director. My role involves managing a team and supporting the growth of its members. Thankfully, my team gets along well, and my supervisor evaluates my work highly.

On the surface, it’s a peaceful life with no particular problems.

And yet, I find myself feeling bored with this ordinary office-worker life again.The role of a director is closer to management, and I rarely create things myself anymore. Now that I’m further away from the creative process, it seems I’ve begun to feel dissatisfied once again.

How easy life might be if I could simply be satisfied with an ordinary life.

And how exciting life might be if I had extraordinary talent.

Instead, I’m someone who lacks great talent but still gets bored with ordinary life. Because of that, I find myself wandering through different paths again and again. Sometimes I get tired of my own stubbornness and inability to give up.But this is who I am, so perhaps it can’t be helped.

For now, while protecting the life I have, I’ve started drawing small illustrations again to satisfy my creative urge. If they turn out well, I’m thinking of creating a small product based on those illustrations at my own expense.

Maybe it could become a side business.Maybe it could lead to another career change.Or maybe it will simply remain a hobby.

The other day, I heard someone “highly self-aware” say something like, “Treating yourself is just a loss.”But other people’s values are none of my business. I’ve decided that I will continue living a life where I generously reward myself.

Rewards, after all, need to be given.I have many forms of “treats.” Slightly expensive chocolates. A nicer-than-usual meal. A trip.

Even a paid day off with absolutely no plans can count.Accessories, shoes, or bags that I splurge on feel a little different. Those are more like investments in myself.

They decorate my appearance and serve me in daily life. Luxuries, perhaps — but not quite rewards.A true reward, for me, is something that doesn’t remain in physical form. Something that passes, yet clearly becomes my source of energy.

Among them, head spas and massages are at the top of the list.

After surviving a busy season and thinking, “Wow… I really worked hard,” I suddenly decide, “That’s it. I’m getting a massage.”I go to one of those chain massage shops often found in office districts. Thirty minutes for the upper body costs 4,500 yen (including the therapist request fee). It’s not particularly expensive, but not cheap either.

There’s a therapist I always request — a slender, beautiful woman with the grip strength of a gorilla. I politely ask her to go easy on me every time.

Thirty minutes isn’t long or short. It’s just enough to leave me thinking, “Maybe I could’ve stayed a little longer.”When it’s over, my brain feels clear, and my eyes look about twice as open as usual.

Massage really is wonderful. Not only for the one receiving it — I imagine it must feel good for the therapist too, seeing someone leave refreshed. Just my assumption, though.Still, having a job where you can become someone’s “reward” feels incredibly meaningful.

To all the massage therapists around the world — thank you. Ending my Friday night with a reward makes me feel truly lucky.I’ll rest well this weekend and do my best again next week.

The three-day weekend flew by in what felt like an instant.

I caught up on housework that had been piling up, visited a friend in Nara, watched a Japanese film I’d been curious about (*愚か者の身分*), and before I knew it, the weekend was over.

Why do holidays seem to move at twice the speed of workdays? 🤔

I’m at an age where most of my friends are married and busy raising children. I’m single, and currently not seeing anyone. That means there aren’t many friends available to meet on weekends, and I often spend my days off alone.

And yet, I don’t feel lonely.I think that’s because in Japan, we even have phrases like “ohitorisama culture” (the culture of enjoying activities alone) and “single aristocrat.”

There are countless cafes, restaurants, and events designed for people to comfortably enjoy by themselves.Perhaps this kind of environment contributes to Japan’s declining birthrate — which is certainly a complex issue — but I’m grateful to live in a society where being single can be enjoyed without explanation.

During this quiet weekend, I could also sense the first signs of spring in the air.

After being knocked down by influenza B for ten days, I finally made it back to work—though my energy still isn’t fully restored. 😅

And somehow, while I was stuck in bed, Valentine’s Day quietly came and went.Valentine’s traditions vary by country, but in recent years in Japan, it has become more common to buy chocolate for yourself rather than for a romantic partner.

According to one survey, 79.5% of Valentine’s chocolate purchases are actually for personal enjoyment.

Every year, my coworkers and I would stop by a department store after work before Valentine’s Day.

It became our little tradition to buy chocolates for ourselves and enjoy a limited-edition Valentine’s parfait.

Unfortunately, thanks to influenza, I missed out on both the parfait and the chocolates this year.

So now, I’ll simply live in anticipation of White Day in March.

(In Japan, March 14th—known as White Day—is when people traditionally give cookies or marshmallows in return for Valentine’s gifts. Interestingly, surveys show that one in six people also buy cookies for themselves on White Day.)

Day five of being completely knocked down by a cold.

My fever wouldn’t go down for four days, and it was exhausting. The diagnosis at the hospital: influenza B.

This virus is a tough opponent.

This morning, I went to cast an early vote, and afterward I had lunch with my parents.

My family is very close. Of all the things I have been given in life, being born into a family like this is one of the greatest blessings.

It reminds me that I should be grateful for the things I tend to take for granted.

On another note, I might be coming down with a cold—my throat is a little sore. Whenever I get sick, I’m reminded once again to be thankful for good health.

Today, I had three meetings. One of them was for a digital transformation project focused on using AI.

AI has made many things more convenient. Yet, since many people at my company still don’t know how to use it well, new tasks have appeared—like organizing systems and workflows so everyone can actually use AI tools.

Thanks to AI, my workload hasn’t decreased at all. If anything, it has increased.

Honestly, I wish AI would hurry up and take my job and do it for me. Then I could spend the extra time drinking coffee and reading books at a leisurely pace.

Better yet, I’d love it if AI could hang my laundry, sort the trash, and even do the ironing.

I hope that day comes soon.

Let’s give everything, and then go home.

Let’s go home with nothing in our hands.

What we receive is often what we have already been given.

Let’s stand tall and say, thank you.

＊＊＊

Lyrics by an artist I love.

Today is Setsubun, so I visited a shrine in Kyoto and bought *fukumame*—roasted soybeans meant to bring good fortune.

On Setsubun, people in Japan throw beans while chanting, “Demons out, fortune in!” to pray for health and protection from illness.It’s a slightly unusual tradition when you think about it. 😆

While I was there, I also stopped by a very popular Japanese sweets shop. Their *mame daifuku*—mochi filled with sweet bean paste and whole beans—is absolutely exquisite.

If you ever visit Shimogamo Shrine, I highly recommend stopping by.

The beans I bought today came with a lottery ticket, and the results will be announced next week. The prizes range from cars to kimono to dining vouchers.

I wonder if I’ll win! 🤭