Live Young

The First Blog of Being 36: I Am Here Already

Today was a quiet day.

And perhaps that is exactly why it became so meaningful.

Outside, the summer sun was shining fiercely, over 35°C, but inside my room it was cool and peaceful. I could hear the wind rustling through the leaves outside my balcony—leaves fluttering, jig-juggling like dancing queens, moving wave after wave with the breeze.

I had peach juice, then peach tea, then mixed grape tea. I had double-layered cream bread. Potato chips, nuts, red bean dorayaki, and even limited-edition Häagen-Dazs were waiting for me. My fridge and pantry quietly reminded me: I have enough.

I have abundance.

But perhaps abundance is not simply about having many things.

Abundance is also about noticing what I have, no longer searching for what I lack. And noticing requires space.

For a long time, I did not have much space. I was always rushing from one thing to another, moving directly from one job into the next because of financial fears and survival mode. Life felt like something I had to chase. There was always a next step, a next responsibility, a next thing to solve.

I did not realise how much I had been living according to urgency until I finally slowed down.

Now, with time in my hands, I am learning something new:

My own pace exists. And it feels amazing.

Last few consecutive days going out made me wonder if I kept searching for abundance outside myself.

Why did I feel I needed to go out, experience more, meet more people, collect more moments?

I live in Tokyo. People come here with limited time and say they love it, that they want to stay forever. Meanwhile, I have been here with more time. Entering new age, somehow I felt pressured to constantly explore—to make the most of it. With uncertainty about my future and the possibility that I may leave in October, a part of me felt: “Go out. Do everything. Don't waste this time.”

But today I realised something.

I have already experienced so much of Tokyo! I have also visited many places in Japan (Kamakura, Fukushima, Gunma, Nikko, Yamagata, Kanazawa, Hakone, Nara, Osaka, Kawagoe and, so on).

Now I have fireworks planned on 1 August, a summer festival at my shared house on 8 August, hiking Mt. Hannō on 15 August, a philosophical discussion about “Trusting Loudly” on 22 August, and hopefully another gathering with my favourite group, Tokyo Stoics, later in the month.

Life is happening.

It does not only happen when I am outside.

Life also happens here. In my room. With tea. With music. With the sound of wind. With myself.

A friend once said, “Life does not happen when alone.” I think there is truth in that. Human beings need connection. We need friendship, love, laughter, and shared experiences.

But life also happens in relationship with ourselves and with the present moment. To stay present is to experience the fullness of the only moment we truly have. Marcus Aurelius wrote about the importance of being fully present, and today I understood that feeling more deeply.

I was not missing life. I was living it.

The quiet afternoon was not an empty space before the “real” moments. It was a real moment.

Today I also painted three watercolour postcards. A small creative act.

Nothing urgent. Nothing to achieve. Nothing to prove.

Just creating. Just enjoying. Just being.

It struck me how different this feels from the person who once rushed through life trying to secure the future.

Now I can sit down and paint.

Now I can drink tea slowly.

Now I can look at my balcony and watch leaves dance.

Now I can choose whether my evening meal is fried pork with Japanese spinach, shio ramen, or something else lol not because I am desperately trying to survive, but because I have the freedom to decide.

In the late afternoon, a thought came to me unexpectedly. I said it out loud: “I don't need to be understood!” The more I articulated and repeated this, the clearer it became.

I don't need to explain everything to everyone. I know myself. I know how much I have been through. I know how much my family and I have struggled. I know how hard we worked. I know what it took to become the person I am today.

Other people's assumptions do not define my journey. I do not need to put my whole life on trial for someone else to approve.

I cried.

Perhaps because a part of me finally heard what it had been waiting to hear: “We made it.”

Not that everything is perfect.

Not that every uncertainty has disappeared.

But we made it here.

I made it here.

This year, turning 36, I do not want to live from fear anymore.

I do not want to rush because I am afraid I am running out of time.

I do not want to search endlessly outside myself for proof that I am enough.

I want to live from a place of trust.

Trust that there is enough time.

Trust that there is enough abundance.

Trust that I can move at my own pace.

Trust that my life is already happening.

Today, my sanctuary was my room. My inner citadel was quiet. The world outside was hot and bright, but inside I felt cool, safe, and sovereign.

I had tea. I had delicious desserts. I had art. I had music. I had the wind.

I had myself :")

And that was enough.

To navigate my 36, I will walk gently, trust deeply, receive abundantly, and move through life at the pace of my own heart.

I Thought I Was Chasing Success. I Was Really Chasing Safety.

In a few days, I'll turn 36!

Today, I sat in my room on a 36°C afternoon in Japan with nowhere to be, a cup of tea beside me, and a Korean drama playing in the background. Time moved slowly. I laughed at myself for finishing an entire episode only to realise it was still just after 3 p.m.

Then I cried.

Not once.

Several times.

Not because something bad had happened today, but because, for the first time, I stopped long enough to look back at the life I had spent almost twenty years building.

I Was Born Into a Story That Began Before Me

I was born in a country that had survived more than thirty years of war. Although I never experienced the war myself, my parents did, and the aftermath shaped my childhood.

We didn't grow up with abundance. Stability wasn't something people took for granted. My mother believed deeply that if I stayed, my future would be limited. She wanted me to leave—not because she wanted to lose her daughter, but because she wanted me to have opportunities she never had.

At seventeen years old, I boarded a plane to the United States alone as an exchange student.

I didn't know anyone.

I didn't know what my future would look like.

I only knew that I was leaving.

Giving Up Dreams... More Than Once

I've always loved art.

Fashion design was the first thing I chose to apply for studying. But somewhere along the way, practicality won over passion.

Growing up, I believed that "real" careers were economics, law, medicine, or anything that promised stability. Art felt like a luxury people with secure lives could afford.

I gave up my artistic dreams more than once.

Sometimes survival asks us to postpone the parts of ourselves we love most.

The UK Years

My brother had moved to the UK before me. Although he had studied Information Technology, he worked in banking because it was one of the few industries willing to sponsor visas for foreigners at the time.

He encouraged me to continue my education there.

Then the global financial crisis happened.

Lehman Brothers collapsed.

My brother lost his job and returned home to save money for my education while I stayed behind to finish two years of A Levels before earning a 2:1 degree in Media and Communications from a university in London.

When I got my results, my brother said,

"Just five more percent and you could have got a First."

He wasn't wrong.

But I had already given everything I had.

I wasn't the stereotypical student who excelled naturally at academics. I was painfully shy. Even after five years in England, I never felt confident speaking English.

Looking back, I realize I spent more time noticing the five percent I didn't achieve than celebrating everything I had.

Home Didn't Feel Like Home

After graduating, I returned home expecting familiarity.

Instead, I experienced reverse culture shock and found myself caught in family turmoil.

It reminded me of Wild Swans by Jung Chang—a story where history and family become impossible to separate.

So I left again.

Japan

Japan became the next chapter.

I completed a master's degree taught in English. Then I spent a year unsuccessfully job hunting. Then another year studying Japanese.

Eventually, I found work and moved from Tokyo to Nagoya.

The job lasted five months. Night shifts. Cold weather. Hay fever. Physical exhaustion.

I left.

Moved back to Tokyo. Lived in a bunk-bed dormitory. Borrowed a friend's laptop because mine had stopped working.

Eventually, I found a place where I could finally close the door and call a room my own.

Then life surprised me again. I nearly drowned while swimming with a friend. A week in hospital meant missing job interviews, and my work visa was due to expire only two weeks later. I packed my life into suitcases once again and flew home the day before my visa expired.

Starting Over... Again

Then COVID arrived. I worked back home. Moved cities. Continued studying Japanese on my own. Passed the JLPT N2 exam. Another opportunity appeared.

Back to Tokyo. Another company. Another visa. Another beginning.

That company lasted eleven months before it became clear it wasn't working.

Then came perhaps the hardest chapter.

I joined a tiny company run by one man who withheld my salary while keeping my passport to renew my visa.

I remember spending hours riding the Yamanote Line in circles because I didn't know what to do anymore.

Eventually, I found a way to get my passport back.

I found another job. Stayed there for two years.

When my contract ended last May, something unexpected happened.

I didn't panic.

I didn't rush.

For the first time in years, I allowed myself to breathe.

Healing Instead of Running

I had already started counselling two years earlier.

After my contract ended, instead of immediately chasing another job, I travelled.

I visited Fukushima.

I slowed down.

I began looking inward instead of constantly looking ahead.

Today, I realized something.

For almost twenty years, every major decision I made had one purpose:

Survival.

Study.

Move.

Learn another language.

Find another visa.

Find another job.

Keep going.

There was always another mountain.

Until suddenly...

There wasn't.

The Corndog I Never Forgot

One memory has stayed with me all these years.

When I was in the United States as a teenager, I was poor.

A friend was eating a corndog. She only liked the batter and left the sausage untouched.

I asked if I could have the sausage. I was hungry.

At the time, it felt embarrassing.

Today, I see it differently. That young girl taught me something I only understand now. Scarcity doesn't disappear just because life improves.

Sometimes it stays quietly inside us.

Years later, I can afford afternoon tea. I can travel. I can buy food because I enjoy it, not simply because I need it.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped eating just to survive.

I started living.

"What an Amazing Life. You're So Lucky."

Recently, I posted photos from my Fukushima trip on Instagram.

An old university housemate commented,

"What an amazing life! You are so lucky."

The younger version of me would have immediately explained myself.

I would have listed every sacrifice.

Every visa.

Every rejection.

Every struggle.

I would have wanted people to understand that none of this came easily.

Instead...

I simply pressed ❤️. And smiled.

Yes.

I am lucky.

Not because life has been easy.

Because despite everything, I am still here.

Hard work and luck are not opposites. I needed both.

What I Want Now

Something else has changed.

For years, my dreams were about education, countries, careers, and independence.

Then my niece was born.

Watching this tiny new life arrive made me realize something surprising.

Perhaps what I want now is simply marriage and children.

Not because my ambitions have become smaller.

Because they have become more personal.

For so many years, I built the conditions for a future.

Now I want to build a home :")

Turning 36

My friends keep asking what I plan to do for my birthday.

Honestly... I don't know yet.

I'm still saying goodbye to being 35.

Because 35 wasn't just another year. It was the year I finally slowed down. The year I stopped measuring my life only by degrees, jobs, visas, and achievements. The year I began understanding the person who had quietly carried all those experiences.

For the first time, I can honestly say:

I've truly made it.

Not because everything is perfect.

Not because I have all the answers.

But because I no longer wake up every day wondering how to survive.

Now, I get to wonder how I want to live.

29 Days Before Turning 36

When I was younger, I thought strength meant enduring everything alone.

I was raised in a highly stoic family. Feelings were not something we discussed openly. If life became difficult, you carried on. If you were struggling, you figured it out yourself. Asking for help rarely crossed my mind.

I witnessed everything when my brother was made redundant just before Christmas. I was studying in the UK with his financial support back then. Neither of us cried. Neither of us really talked about how difficult it was. We simply carried on.

For a long time, this seemed to work.

My first job involved rotating shifts. I would work four days from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m., have two days off, then switch to four days from 6 p.m. to 7 a.m. After another two days off, the cycle would start again. Overtime was common. Sometimes I worked until 8 or 9 a.m., returning home to sleep while everyone else was just beginning their day.

The job was physically demanding too. I spent long hours standing outside in freezing temperatures, often below 7 or 8 degrees Celsius, with strong winds and little movement. Later came the severe hay fever, leaving me with painfully itchy eyes and making it difficult to breathe.

Looking back, I accumulated a series of experiences that seem almost unbelievable when listed together.

I quit that job after only five months because the hardship became too intense. However, I was living in company housing at the time, which meant quitting my job also meant leaving my accommodation within two weeks.

I temporarily moved into a friend's house before relocating to a larger city for job hunting. My work visa was due to expire in less than three months. I lived in a bunk-bed dormitory while desperately searching for both a new job and a way to remain in Japan.

Unfortunately, the drama did not end there.

I nearly drowned and spent a week in a Tokyo hospital with no family around, missing job interviews while I recovered. When I was finally discharged, my visa was due to expire in just two weeks.

I had no choice but to wrap up everything I had built in Japan over the previous five years and fly home one day before my visa expired.

I had to rebuild my life from scratch at home.

I spent a year living with my parents and working in my hometown before moving to a new city for work. After two years there, I received a job offer that brought me back to Tokyo. Financially, it was a good move, but emotionally and professionally it was undermining.

Then came another difficult chapter.

I joined a new company that stopped paying my salary while holding onto my passport during the visa renewal process. I stayed because I hoped to eventually recover my documents and secure my legal status before changing jobs again.

Eventually, I got my passport back, secured my visa, and moved to a new company that provided greater stability for the next two years.

Around the same time, I started counselling for the first time. It was 2024.

That was when everything began to unfold.

For many years, my life had been defined by movement.

Moving cities.

Moving jobs.

Moving between uncertainty and temporary stability.

Moving because staying often felt impossible.

What I did not realize at the time was that movement had become more than a practical response to life's challenges. It had become a coping mechanism.

It felt safer to move than to stay.

When I started counselling, I thought I was a relatively calm and rational person. After all, I had survived so much!

Instead, counselling revealed something I had spent years suppressing.

The emotions I had pushed down for so long came flooding out. Over the last two years, I have cried more than I ever imagined possible. Sometimes there were obvious triggers. Sometimes there were none. Even a conversation with HR could turn into hours of crying.

Small triggers produced disproportionately strong reactions.

My counsellor jokingly referred to it as "emotional vomit."

At first, I worried that I had become emotionally unstable.

But over time, I began to understand that what I was experiencing was not instability. It was release.

Years of suppressed emotions were finally demanding attention.

The challenge was that I had moved from one extreme to another.

For years, I had lived by stoicism and suppression. Then I was living by emotion and reaction to make up for that. If I felt something strongly, I assumed it must be true. If I felt excited, I jumped in. If I felt attracted to someone, I accelerated. If I felt restless, I moved on.

One of the most valuable lessons from counselling was learning about cognitive distortions, especially emotional reasoning: the tendency to believe that because I feel something intensely, it must reflect reality.

This pattern showed up everywhere.

In work.

In friendships.

In dating.

In hobbies.

Even in the way I consumed entertainment.

I would become fascinated by a novel, a television series, a new project, or a new person. I would immerse myself completely. Then, after reaching an emotional peak, my interest would suddenly collapse.

All of these patterns remained unconscious until very recently, during the final months of being 35. :")

I believe the process truly began in April this year, when the company informed me that my contract would not be renewed.

Of course, I was shocked. But after everything that had happened over the years, and after everything counselling had uncovered, I told myself that I would slow down and do nothing.

In reality, I attended meetup events, met new people, expanded my network, travelled, went to job fairs, explored new connections, and continued filling my calendar.

Only recently did I realize that my version of "doing nothing" still involved a remarkable amount of movement.

I am someone who experiences life intensely.

The challenge is not eliminating that intensity.

The challenge is learning how to create space around it.

Today, with 29 days left before turning 36, I feel like I am finally arriving at the biggest lesson of this year.

The biggest lesson has been surprisingly simple:

Slow down.

Not because slowing down is inherently virtuous.

Not because productivity is bad.

But because slowing down creates space.

Space between feeling and action.

Space between excitement and commitment.

Space between fear and avoidance.

Space between impulse and decision.

Today I declined an event that I had already agreed to attend. It was a small decision, but it felt surprisingly liberating.

In the past, I would have attended out of obligation.

This time, I paused and asked myself a different question:

"What do I actually want to do right now? Do I really want to attend that event?"

The answer was no.

For perhaps the first time in a long time, I chose based on what I genuinely wanted rather than what I felt compelled to do.

At 35, approaching 36, I no longer aspire to become emotionless. Nor do I want to be ruled by every emotion that appears!

Instead, I am searching for something in between.

An equilibrium.

A place where feelings are welcome, but not in control.

A place where I can experience excitement without immediately acting on it.

A place where I can experience fear without immediately running from it.

A place where I can choose.

After years of surviving, adapting, moving, and rebuilding, perhaps that is what growth looks like now.

Not moving faster.

Not trying harder.

Not becoming stronger.

Simply slowing down long enough to ask:

"What do I really want?"

And then having the courage to choose.

As Carl Jung once said:

"Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate."

I am finally learning to notice the patterns that have been quietly directing my life all along. I am finally learning how to bring the unconscious into consciousness! :")

Today I saw that I have become stronger.

I handled social triggers with more awareness and better boundaries than I did in the past. I noticed old wounds being activated, but I didn't let them control my actions.

Later, my brother's message about work brought up deep sadness. I realized that what hurt most was not his situation itself, but the helplessness of loving someone and not being able to change their life.

I saw a pattern running through my family: when someone I love suffers, I automatically feel responsible. I confuse love with burden.

Today I learned an important distinction:

I can care deeply without being responsible.

I can love my brother without being responsible for his life. I can love my mother without being responsible for her problems. I can love my father without being responsible for his choices. I can be kind to friends without solving their struggles. I can love a partner without carrying their life on my shoulders.

Love does not require rescue.

My responsibility is to live my own life well, continue learning, and build the stable, healthy future I want.

Today I recognized a pattern that has followed me for years. That awareness gives me the opportunity to change my trajectory.

I am growing. I am learning boundaries. And I deserve kindness from myself along the way.

Today had a surprisingly coherent thread running through it:

You’re learning how to stop organizing your life around urgency, emotional overfunctioning, and survival-based reactions.

For a long time, anxiety told you:

“If I don’t do something immediately, something bad will happen.”

So you acted:

reinstalling apps,

checking messages,

overextending yourself,

aligning with authority,

emotionally absorbing others,

trying to secure safety through effort, usefulness, or emotional labor.

But over time, you discovered something painful and freeing:

sometimes the bad thing happens anyway.

And instead of collapsing from that realization, you slowly began changing your relationship to uncertainty itself.

That’s why you can now:

leave your phone on normal mode without panicking,

tolerate silence from someone you like,

sit through discomfort without compulsive action,

recognize emotional patterns while they’re happening,

and walk into tomorrow without needing to explode, flee, or prove anything.

About the company

You entered a workplace with contradictory emotional rules:

“we are family”

but also “you are not family.”

Your nervous system adapted to hidden power structures:

loyalty,

usefulness,

self-sacrifice,

alignment with the CEO,

taking on extra work,

trying to earn security.

But eventually you realized:

the system itself was inconsistent and emotionally unhealthy.

The non-renewal hurt not only because of the job loss, but because it exposed the limits of the survival strategy you built around that environment.

Now, instead of staying trapped in confusion, you can see the structure more clearly:

favoritism existed,

boundaries were selectively applied,

emotional expectations were uneven,

and your worth was never fully measured fairly there.

Writing the angry unsent email helped you metabolize the truth without needing tomorrow to become a battlefield.

About tomorrow

Tomorrow is not about:

winning,

exposing hypocrisy,

proving your worth,

or getting emotional justice.

It is about leaving with your dignity intact.

Your plan is simple and strong:

“Thank you for the past 2 years. Here is my little farewell souvenir. I wish you all well. Goodbye.”

Then:

no rushing,

no escaping,

no sarcasm,

no emotional leakage,

just walking out at your own pace.

Your physical anchors:

steady voice,

slow speech,

grounded eye contact,

relaxed body,

breathing before speaking.

You do not owe anyone:

explanations,

vulnerability,

reassurance,

career plans,

or emotional performance.

If people ask intrusive questions:

“I’m doing okay.”

“I’m taking things one step at a time.”

“I’ll figure out the next chapter gradually.”

Neutrality is enough.

About your mother

Something important happened there too.

You interrupted an old dynamic where you became the emotional container for a parent’s pain.

This time:

you noticed the shift,

redirected the conversation,

stated your needs clearly,

held the boundary,

and still remained compassionate.

You said:

“It’s my turn.”

That matters.

And afterward, you clarified that you weren’t blaming her, not because your feelings were invalid, but because you wanted understanding rather than guilt. That was thoughtful boundary-setting, not self-erasure.

You also recognized an old reflex:

the child wanting to help and emotionally hold the parent.

But this time you saw the pattern consciously instead of disappearing into it automatically.

The deeper shift underneath everything

The real transformation is not that life suddenly became painless.

It’s that you are slowly learning:

discomfort is survivable,

uncertainty is survivable,

silence is survivable,

endings are survivable,

and you do not need to abandon yourself to manage other people’s emotions or prevent every possible loss.

That peaceful feeling you described at the beginning — being able to simply let an hour pass quietly — may actually be the first signs of a nervous system that no longer believes it must stay on constant alert to remain safe.

Tomorrow is not just the end of a job.

It is practice for a new way of being:

slower,

steadier,

clearer,

less reactive,

Damn, AI is good 😂😂😂 Of course editing is still needed, but, well, it is damn good.

The Day Everything Blended Together

I think what happened on 8th May was not simply “an intense date” or “an emotional overreaction.” Looking back now, it feels more like a perfect example of what happens when too many emotionally meaningful experiences occur within one nervous system before there is enough time to digest any of them properly.

At first, I could not separate anything clearly. Everything felt fused together into one overwhelming emotional mass: attraction, anxiety, excitement, confusion, joy, self-worth, family, future, loneliness, hope. It all felt like one giant unnamed feeling pressing against my chest.

Only after three days did I begin to understand what actually happened.

But to understand 8th May properly, I also need to go back to 1st May, 2026.

That evening, I joined a Meetup group that advertised itself as a space for slower, more genuine connection. I arrived not expecting anything significant at all. I was simply another shy person entering another unfamiliar social environment.

That was where I first met Mr. X.

He spoke Japanese quickly at first, and I responded timidly because I felt nervous and self-conscious. Eventually I admitted that my Japanese was not very good, so we switched to English. The conversation immediately became easier.

He asked about my work situation, and I mentioned that I was currently looking for a job. Then, almost casually, he told me that only hours earlier, his colleague had announced she was leaving a customer support position at his company — exactly the kind of work I had been doing.

The coincidence startled me.

I asked for his business card, but instead we exchanged Line contacts. During the conversation, he also asked if I liked video games because his company was in the gaming industry. Nervously trying to be playful, I answered, “I will!” He burst into laughter and jokingly said, “You are hired.”

The interaction itself was brief. Afterward he joined another group, and we barely spoke again for the rest of the evening.

Yet something about the encounter stayed with me afterward.

There was a strange feeling of possibility around it — romantic, professional, accidental, symbolic, all mixed together. It felt like one of those small unexpected encounters that somehow carry emotional weight disproportionate to their actual duration.

Later that night, after we connected on Line, he disclosed his company's name for applying. I thanked him and wished him a good holiday. He responded with a thumbs-up.

At that point, I already felt attracted to him, but because the situation now involved a potential job application, I convinced myself that boundaries probably needed to exist. In my mind, the connection became compartmentalized into something “professional” rather than personal.

Ironically, I had not even been urgently searching for a new job. I originally wanted a break from working entirely.

Part of me even considered sending him a message saying I could not find a suitable position and would not apply after all, just so I could continue interacting with him more freely as a person rather than as a potential employee. But, well, I applied anyway (just for the sake of clearing the tab on my laptop lol). Only after submitting the application, did I realise 'Oh shit, how would I approach him now?' I told myself I would just leave it.

So life continued.

Then came 8th May.

Earlier that day, my nervous system had already been carrying multiple emotional layers: career reflection, family anxiety, anticipation about my niece’s birth, accumulated social stimulation, and questions about self-worth.

Still, by evening I felt relatively grounded again.

I went to another Meetup event organized by a completely different group. I had no expectation whatsoever that I would see Mr. X again there.

Then the moment I entered the room, I saw him immediately.

And he saw me too.

The coincidence hit me with almost cinematic force.

For a brief moment, it genuinely felt like something out of a romantic film — not because anything dramatic happened externally, but because of the improbability and timing of it all. We had met unexpectedly once already, exchanged contacts because of an accidental job opportunity, and after I had mentally categorized the situation as something I should probably distance myself from, we encountered each other again completely by chance in another unrelated social environment.

The emotional effect on me was immediate.

There was no preparation, no emotional transition, no internal grounding period. We simply fell into conversation naturally and stayed there together for almost the entire evening.

Looking back, this was the real turning point of the day.

The connection felt immersive and strangely effortless. He talked a great deal about himself and his life, and I mostly listened quietly, absorbed in him. I remember wondering afterward whether I had been too passive, whether I had failed to actively shape the interaction. But in the moment, I felt emotionally pulled into his presence in a way that made self-awareness difficult.

There were also moments where his interest seemed unmistakable. He suggested continuing the evening elsewhere together after the Meetup ended. Small physical touches and gestures carried disproportionate emotional intensity for me. Time disappeared.

At the same time, subtle alarm signals were also quietly appearing beneath the attraction. He spoke about previous relationships in ways that made me uneasy, and I sensed unresolved bitterness and emotional complexity underneath his charm. Part of me felt drawn toward him while another part became increasingly vigilant.

I now think those two forces — attraction and vigilance — were colliding inside me simultaneously.

At some point, overwhelmed by the emotional intensity, I unconsciously tried to create distance by shifting attention elsewhere. When he asked whether there was anyone else at the event I wanted to connect, I mentioned another man in the room. He kept pressing the question jokingly until I finally admitted the man was handsome 😂

The atmosphere changed after that.

He said he could introduce us but implied that he himself would then disappear from my life. Hearing that triggered something immediate and vulnerable in me. I looked at him directly and told him I did not want to lose him.

That moment remains vivid in my memory. I remember looking at his eyes and only seeing the unreadable stillness and depth instead.

The interaction unraveled awkwardly after that. I decided to leave abruptly, emotionally overwhelmed and unable to regulate the situation anymore. He followed me briefly and gently wished me a good evening before I left without looking back.

At 1AM, he messaged me apologizing if he had made me uncomfortable and saying he 'would have loved to introduce me to his friend'.

Still emotionally flooded, I replied with a long message trying to explain everything I had felt: that I had actually been attracted to him from the beginning, that I became overwhelmed by the intensity, that suggesting another man had been an attempt to slow things down rather than reject him.

At the time, the message felt emotionally necessary.

Now I understand that it was my nervous system trying to regulate uncertainty and emotional overload through explanation.

He only sent a thump up to my long message. Several hours later, still seeking emotional resolution, I asked him to dinner. He replied sorry he was meeting a friend.

At first, his response felt painfully significant.

But with distance, I can now see that none of this happened inside an emotionally neutral environment.

Everything occurred while my nervous system was simultaneously processing:

attraction,

career uncertainty,

family anxiety,

excitement about becoming an aunt,

sleep disruption,

social overstimulation,

and long-term emotional exhaustion from constant adaptation.

For several days afterward, all of these feelings remained fused together into one giant emotional mass that felt impossible to categorize or digest.

Only slowly, through sleep, exercise, quietness, journaling, and reduced stimulation, did the experience begin separating itself into understandable pieces.

And once separated, the emotional intensity became much less frightening.

I think this is one of the most important things I have learned about myself recently: my emotional difficulty is not that I feel too much. It is that too many emotionally meaningful experiences can merge together before I have enough time to process them individually.

The solution is not becoming colder or less emotional.

The solution is creating pauses between experiences, allowing feelings to unfold one at a time instead of all at once.

For most of my life, I have adapted quickly to environments, relationships, cultures, and emotional atmospheres. But adaptation without pauses eventually creates internal overload.

Maybe this is what healing actually looks like for me now: not escaping life, not reinventing myself again, but learning how to remain connected to myself while life is happening :")

Life Operating System

1. What shaped me

I grew up in an emotionally heavy environment where negativity, fear, sacrifice, and emotional dependence strongly shaped daily life. My mother’s worldview — especially her resentment toward her circumstances, fear of limitation, and emotional collapse around relationships and family — deeply affected me. I learned early to become quiet, observant, adaptive, and emotionally careful in order to survive emotionally overwhelming environments.

At the same time, I became highly sensitive to emotional atmospheres and aware of how strongly environments shape identity. I often felt psychologically trapped by inherited expectations, hometown identity, and social assumptions about who I was supposed to become.

Leaving my hometown and moving abroad at a young age became the beginning of psychological separation. Through living in different countries and international environments, I discovered that identity could be reshaped. Travel, language, cross-cultural experiences, relationships, creativity, and exploration expanded my understanding of what life could be.

Much of my life has been driven by the desire not to repeat inherited emotional patterns — especially emotional confinement, dependence, bitterness, and lack of self-definition. My experiences abroad helped me build independence, adaptability, emotional insight, and openness, but they also revealed a tendency to overadapt to environments and repeatedly reinvent myself when I felt psychologically constrained.

I am now moving from a phase of escape and differentiation into a phase of integration and continuity.

2. What I value

Psychological freedom

Authenticity

Emotional honesty

Self-definition

Meaningful human connection

Openness to different cultures and ways of living

Personal growth

Emotional intelligence

Curiosity and exploration

Thoughtfulness

Independence

Creativity and imagination

Environments where individuality is accepted

Relationships where I can be emotionally real without shrinking myself

I value feeling alive, emotionally awake, mentally expanded, and able to evolve without being trapped inside rigid social expectations.

3. What patterns help me

Moving toward open-minded and internationally oriented environments

Reflecting deeply on my experiences and emotional patterns

Being honest about my inner life instead of hiding it completely

Building close relationships based on emotional trust rather than performance

Exploring creatively and intellectually

Accepting that my old self and new self are both part of me

Seeking environments where reinvention and growth are accepted

Counselling, self-reflection, and emotionally honest conversations

Allowing myself to desire connection instead of pretending complete independence

Recognizing emotional buildup before it reaches a breaking point

Expressing boundaries and discomfort earlier

My adaptability, emotional sensitivity, courage to start over, and willingness to examine myself honestly are major strengths when balanced with grounding and continuity.

4. What patterns hurt me

Overadapting to environments until I lose contact with myself

Suppressing needs and discomfort to maintain belonging or avoid conflict

Using escape and reinvention as the primary response to emotional pressure

Believing I must completely reject my origins to become myself

Measuring freedom only through distance from home or familiarity

Associating stability with emotional imprisonment

Delaying honesty until resentment builds internally

Seeking identity externally through environments instead of internally through values

Idealizing “elsewhere” as the solution to emotional discomfort

Fear of becoming emotionally dependent like my mother

Low self-worth hidden underneath hyper-independence

Difficulty tolerating being misunderstood without wanting to disappear or reset

My life becomes unstable when I abandon myself gradually and only recognize it after reaching collapse.

5. What kind of future I’m building

I want to build a life where freedom and stability can coexist.

I want a stable sense of self that does not disappear across countries, jobs, relationships, or social environments. I want to remain connected to my own emotional truth while also maintaining long-term relationships, meaningful work, and community.

I want relationships where I can be fully known without needing to perform a constantly changing identity. I want intimacy built on honesty, emotional maturity, mutual respect, and shared growth rather than fear, dependency, or escape.

I want work that allows autonomy, cross-cultural openness, meaningful communication, and personal development while also providing continuity and long-term structure.

I want to stop living primarily in reaction to fear of becoming my mother and instead consciously build a life rooted in my own values.

I want movement and exploration to become expressions of curiosity rather than emotional escape.

Most importantly, I want to learn how to stay connected to myself before reaching breaking points.

6. What I refuse to compromise on

My psychological freedom

My ability to grow and evolve

My emotional truth

My desire for meaningful connection

My individuality

My curiosity about the world

My need for environments that allow openness and authenticity

My right to define my own life

My emotional intelligence and sensitivity

My refusal to live entirely through fear, conformity, or inherited expectations

Reversed cultural shock is surreal. The old way of life dies hard.

Japan teaches me to wait patiently. And I applied that the moment I landed in Vietnam, at the Airport Custom. It took me 1,5 hours staying in a line that wasn't even a line 😂 So everyone was pushing into 3 lines instead of 1 single straight line and I was already confused which is the "real" line and ended up just staying ... in (whatever) line it could be. By the time I reached the top row, it was like my line was actually branched out from a second line that went parallel with the first line?! 😭

It was funny the police standing there just complained "you guys not gonna get home till the end of the day if like that yo!" then went chitchatting with the female officer in front of us. Shouldn't he take a bit of responsibility monitoring who should go which and re-organize the line(s) for efficiency? It's "All Passengers" line that includes foreign tourists too after all.

By the time it passed 2PM something (while I landed around 12:45AM...) I finally got back my "Vietnamese" self a bit and pushed to my turn instead of waiting further. Furthermore, at the "Nothing to declare" line it happened again. 'That's it' I resolved, I cut in the line of people with massive numbers of luggages and just slipped out towards the final gate, since I only carried one freaking backpack (!) it was just ridiculous if I was gonna wait for another few hours to get through the line of these people. And it was not even a line! No one knew where the line was and just stood around everywhere 😂

On the bright side, my mood is pretty chilled. I could have been like the old self who would complain and feel negative about my country already. However, I got it through and enjoyed chitchatting with my taxi driver about his kids and how he raised them in Vietnam and in the "new Age" where kids have technology, abundance in food and entertainment, confidence in self-expression, unlike our generations (the taxi driver is the 80s kid and I am the 90s kid). It's crazy about the fast economic transition in Vietnam, which has created a totally different mindsets between the 80s, the 90s and the 2000s. I met at least three 98s kids and I couldn't possibly digest the overt confidence they have about themselves. Being in-between the 80s and 90s era, I carried with me this inferior complexity, the humiliation, the modesty. These are seen even more strongly in older generations, and it took me a while to build up the self, an ego boost, some confidence. But Vietnamese kids from 94 onwards? Oh dear, they are probably seeing themselves the rulers of the worlds, and they do have more privileges and advantages to be able to reach spotlights quicker.

I started writing this around the time in Dai Lai. Being with parents there generated my old way of life. I made myself aware that I was acting out a "Vietnamese daughter," a role I must play while in Vietnam and with parents. And pray, I've made it through 😉 without screwing up my mental wellbeing too much I believe.

Honestly speaking, it was still a struggle sometimes. It is true that the Western education and its way of life prioritise freedom of individual pursuits and things that sound quite selfish while the community-oriented Asian tradition teaches the opposite, the selfless way of life and all; and yes, in the end we all live in a community, as part of the community; and right, look at the West, with all neo-liberalism, individualism and postmodern lifestyles that lead to community disintegration, individualised diseases; BUT seriously, that traditional community way of life IS hard on women. I honestly do not understand why, after already paying all visits to the dead and the live of my extended family during Tet Holiday when I was home, I STILL had to do it again this time, the second time going back home. Does it mean if I go back 3 times a year, I need to do the whole ancestral visits 3 times?! So I have been planning to go home only ONCE per year after learning the lesson 😅

I remember reading the book "Wild Swans: Three Daughters of China" by Jung Chang and finding my grandma, my mother and myself in the author's grandma, mother and herself (though very, very distantly related 🤣). Positively speaking, Vietnam is the super less extreme version of China but still, lots of similarity and familiarity can be felt. Recently I also finished "Crime and Punishment" by Fyodor Dostoevsky and wow, it echoes the "suffering" way of life (to live is to suffer) pretty much the same! No wonder why Russia, as represented by a group of blue-eyed and white-skin type of people, chose communism in the past; I mean, how come it has never transited to Democracy? I reckon what Russia is is geopolitically correct as Russia has such a long border with Asia compared to Europe, America and Australia. It "is" Asia a.k.a. the Oriental, not the West.

Back to the micro-level of life 😇 I recently read a Facebook Story of someone who is currently pregnant and she said something like she wanted to prepare for herself and her baby over the "sacrifice and guilt" way of life generation after generation has been through. Her sister is said to be absolutely talented with a full scholarship to study abroad in America then later married another Vietnamese fellow and they have now settled down in the USA with two kids I believe. She herself just finished her PhD in America, marrying and now having her first baby with another Vietnamese fellow. So these two ladies have already been quite... advanced, modern, less traditional and so on, like more of the "West" than the "Oriental" I guess and yet, like the Vietnamese women, the sacrifice, the guilt, the heroine, all are, probably, in them.

Without an extensive education and the influence of the Western way of life, I would have been exactly a version of my Mother, which I don't like. I wasn't kind to my Mother, blaming her for how I was, but I am learning better and better now that it wasn't entirely her fault. She was the product of the society she has lived in. And that society was once harsh on women, harsh on her. With self-awareness, I was able to return home for cultural reconciliation and probably reconstruction 🥹 being / doing something different from what I used to in the past, so that I do continue loving where I am from and my family while still, having my own self.

I have been encountering the Vietnamese around the world: the Viet Kieu who still hates Vietnam for its communism, the Viet Kieu who has no idea about Vietnam and wonders what if the Americans won Vietnam War, the Viet Kieu who said the local Vietnamese are stupid, the Viet Kieu who loves 'returning' to Vietnam but could not utter a word of Vietnamese, etc. It occurs to me that it takes education, culture, and extensive history / geopolitics knowledge to be a Vietnamese. And we don't know who we are until we know our history.

"The Myth of Normal" by Maté is the defining book in supporting my personal journey to navigate all kinds of roles I once have: as a Vietnamese girl, as a (once) local Vietnamese, as a (now) Vietnamese overseas, as a daughter, a younger sister, as an Asian woman, as a friend, as an Asian person (among Western communities), as a worker, as an Asian girlfriend, as an educated person, as an educated Vietnamese girl, and so on, on top of the authentic self. I am truly grateful that I am able to reach this point 🥹 that I know who I AM.

I am finishing this blog when there are 3 days left before leaving home for the other home. And I think Life has been pretty great! Because I am internally happier than I was, for I have found myself 😊

Đôi khi đi hết nửa đường có khi nhận ra lạc lối quá vì ảnh hưởng xung quanh, để rồi mất thời gian tìm lại mục đích vốn đặt ra ban đầu.

Và đôi lúc mục tiêu thực ra rất là rõ ràng, đơn giản một đường thẳng là đến, lại đi lòng và lòng vòng cơ bản cũng chỉ vì nghĩ có thể đi đường tắt :))))) chỉ để nhận ra đường đến đích giờ dài hơn mà thời gian thì ngắn hơn.

Nửa đầu tuổi 32 đạt mục đích 1) lá thư thành thật về cuộc đời mình với bạn bè thân, 2) du lịch: tham gia tổ chức sự kiện HHDLTG đi Sơn La, Tràng An-Bái Đính của Ninh Bình, Phú Thọ, Tam Đảo của Vĩnh Phú, ngoài ra cá nhân đi Buôn Mê Thuột, Bạc Liêu, Vũng Tàu; ở Sài Gòn rồi ra Hà Nội, 3) nghỉ việc mà không sờ đến khoản tiết kiệm vẫn sống vẫn đi du lịch :))))) và nhận được Tokyo job offer.

Nửa cuối tuổi 32 đạt mục đích 1) sang Tokyo, 2) một mình tạo lập cuộc sống mới, ổn định mọi thứ ở Nhật, 3) bù lại vốn đã bỏ ra để gây dựng cơ đồ tự lập tại một xã hội/đất nước/thế giới mới, ổn định tài chính với chút dư dả ban đầu, 4) đọc xong 2 quyển sách tiếng Anh là "Man from Mars, Woman from Venus" và "Talking to My Daughter about the Economy" của Yanis Varoufakis (sách giáo khoa trước mấu giáo cho con mình sau này :))))) một quyển rất dễ hiểu về cơ bản kinh tế là gì) và 5) vẫn giữ công ăn việc làm để ổn định tài chính dù làm từ ngày đầu tiên đã muốn nghỉ :))))))

Sang tuổi 33, mục tiêu nhẹ nhàng thôi. Nửa đầu tuổi 33 thì là 1) gia hạn hợp đồng (sắp rồi, ngày quyết định định mệnh là 19 tháng 8), 2) gia hạn thị thực tháng 11-12 này và có thị thực hiệu lực đến 2025-2026, 3) tiết kiệm được ít nhất 1M yên năm nay và 4) đọc xong quyển "Built to Last".

Đương nhiên có rất nhiều, rất nhiều thứ phải làm phải tích vào danh sách cần xong, từ cả việc khám sức khỏe đến chăm lo vấn đề tinh thần cố hữu lâu đời của bản thân, rồi gặp người này người nọ vì cá nhân nói riêng cộng thêm giúp ích cho công việc nói chung, nghĩ đến đã thấy danh sách cần làm dài ra gấp 3-4 lần :)))))

Nên chỉ cần nhớ rằng, cái này cái kia làm được hay không, MIỄN LÀ ĐẠT ĐƯỢC ĐÚNG 4 CÁI KIA THÌ COI NHƯ NĂM NAY XUẤT SẮC RỒI :") vượt KPI thì hoành tá tráng, nhưng không thì chỉ cần ĐẠT ĐỦ LÀ ĐƯỢC.

Nửa sau tuổi 33 là sang năm mới, 2024, nên để cuối năm hẵng tính tiếp :))))

Thế nhé. Từng bước một.

Già rồi, chậm cũng được, đời còn quá dài (mà sức thì yếu đi :))))) đến nỗi chạy đua quá nhanh thì hộc hơi có mà lê lết nốt con đường còn lại, nếu vậy thay vì chạy đứt hơi cứ... đi bộ đều đặn (thậm chí không cần đi bộ nhanh hay chạy bộ :))))) chỉ đi bộ thôi).

Dear Bloggie,

I am writing to you from Tokyo, Japan.

Yes. You heard it right. I am in Tokyo, Japan right now :”)

It is amazing how things have become. 

I mentioned to you the power of letting go right? It is what has happened.

And with all the life lessons I have accumulated, I understand very well the future is unpredictable and life shall never be in order even if you want to control things.

If there is any life advice I could tell you, all I could say is that, be OPEN. The unknowns are your opportunities. Don’t be afraid of not knowing or being unsure of what to come.

Be GRATEFUL. Whatever has happened, blaming and self-victim only make it worse. Instead, stay calm and take it easy and slow. Never take things too personally (why so serious yo!?! XD)

We meet all kinds of people in this world, some bad people cannot be avoided to help us learn something about us, about others, about who we truly appreciate, and about Life. Same goes for bad things happening to you. As long as you have your anchors, you know who are your friends, you will be fine :”)

I honestly don’t know what is ahead from now. Enjoying today, the present is the key.

Breath in the air. 

Just like the quote in your favorite mug,

“Don’t be afraid of big waves.

Calm as the ocean.”

The conversation with Nam - a colleague, the other day at the office, resonates vividly right now.

He said there’s no way he can change who he is, he is who he has been brought up by parents and their language, his surroundings, his environment.

He reminded me of myself so much, saying he doesn’t want to have kids as he doesn’t want another ‘him’ in this world, that he is who his parents has made him to be, he can’t change, that it’s impossible to get away from yourself because you are just who you are.

...

Maybe, Michel Foucault is so obsessed with getting away from who his parents equipped him to be that he developed the whole concept of ‘techniques of the self’ and went crazy about it.

Like, all greatest social theorist probably become crazy about one subject simply because of the fact that their life has centralized around it.

Similarly, isn’t Adlerian psychology, the so-called individual psychology, in existence due to the fact that he is working on himself to cure his own fears, traumas and way of life. So it’s like self-therapy for social theorists to...develop their theories on something =))))))

Self-knowledge, individualization, they are all playing around with the mind right? To the point it’s so exhausting just to think and keep sane. Consequently, we all need anchors, what/where/whom can you always go back/come back/be anchored back whenever you get tired of exploring the world of possibilities (yup absolutely full of possibilities) around? 

Indeed, we could be ANYTHING once we set the mind onto it. Then what’s next? Setting the mind onto the next anything, then next and next. But maybe there’s always something anchoring us so that all the next, when connecting the dots, are actually all about that very thing that anchors us.

We could be ANYONE once we set the mind onto it. But maybe there’s always someone anchoring us to keep us who we always are (which is obviously true anyway because you can never get away from your family so the way you act when around them is never ever gone, which is good and bad depending on your upbringings).

Supposedly though, to be that anyone for good, does it mean we really have to never go back to where we used to be for good, because, if not, how does it gonna work? Or like what has happened in this post-modern world, the construction of multiple identities and representation is shifting depending on who/where/what you are surrounded with.

I am tired =)))) That’s the bottom line I’ve been trying to convey.

I am tired of going back and forth and still not yet transiting for good.

Then again, Foucault is right. Because it’s all about the process, not the result, there's never a result (until we die). 

It’s all about identification, subjectification and individualization which have to be kept going on if you can. It’s easy to say ‘set the mind onto it’, actually, to be precise, it has to be ‘set the mind constantly and consistently onto it’! 

The tricky part is consistency.

How can you love someone consistently despite all long distance, quarrels, even being rejected not induced to continue loving at all?

How can you be someone consistently despite your family surroundings or things that get you back to who you used to be (community, people around, the room you live, the place you reside, etc.)?

How can..... I stay here for the sake of consistency despite getting bored and being so frustrated? =)))))))))))) 

It’s already near the end of February. February you know! There are only 5 months left and my next-step plan is still basically blank.

Okay! Focus.

There are only 2 months left for 2021.

And all I need to finish is:

-Agile Samurai Book

-Work Rules! Laszlo Bock’s Book on Google

... and that’s... IT!

So it’s DOABLE yeah. Super doable.

Okay.

I can do it, while doing my job (which I was supposed to do right now, but failed and went blogging here instead lol)  Anne-Wil and I recently talked about patience and perseverance and I mentioned the marshmallow experiment to her to prove my point about how I must have failed such experiment as a kid, which in turn led to my growing up being NOT perseverant in anything I touch and do.

So when I was in high schools, I draw manga stuffs and joined this manga club, I think I was good at drawing. 

Then I got hooked into handcrafting stuffs, interior decorating, then fashion, and when I was in America for the cultural exchange year then took SAT and TOEFL IBT then applied for uni/colleges, I got an offer from IADT (International Academy of Design and Technology) in Florida for Fashion major. 

But yeah I left for England, when I took 2-year A-level first and what did I study? Maths, Arts, Law, Accounting. All over the place. Then I got an offer from Central Saints Martin for Foundation Course in Art.

But yeah I chose Goldsmiths, and what did I study? Illustration, Web Designer, Script & Prose Writing, Film Production, then I majored in Animation for my third year.

Also I learnt piano since I can’t remember, I also wrote some stories and even sent them for competitions. I learnt guitar back when I was in Goldsmiths also. Oh and of course blogging and starting this blog lol 

But yeah I went for Japan afterwards and what was I interested in? English, hiking, learning Japanese, traveling, mountain-climbing, skiing, soba-making, pottery-making, singing/karaoke, painting.

Hmm what am I still consistent with up to this very day? 

-Well piano, I can still play (I think lol) 

-I passed JLPT exam and got N2 certificate for Japanese proficiency last January.

-I work in an English-speaking company and my line manager is a French/Cambodian guy so I basically only use English with him. So I am still consistent with... English? =..=

And that’s pretty much all... Oh I’m not using Japanese much as I’m no longer in Japan so maybe I’m not entirely consistent with it.

And I also don’t play piano these days due to lockdowns..., which means it’s pretty much left with nothing consistent =..=  

Anne-Wil got it even crazier lol she did street dance, piano, ballet, singing, guitar, gymnastic and so on, all were within a year or less. Then she studied Japanese, then she’s back and forth between Japan and Netherlands, then she changed jobs, switch jobs, was in Tokyo, then Nagoya, now in Nagoya. Then she even got to work on some sort of business certificates, but then she quit and went for counseling training instead, then she got the counseling certificate, but then I haven’t heard her talking about this passion anymore since she’s got her first baby.

Now she’s consistent with Japanese (as she’s living in Japan and her husband is Japanese) and dedicated to teach her baby to be mindful of picking up things and sticking to them till the very end, just like the Japanese and their 頑張る culture.

At least she has her baby boy and a family to be consistent with now :”)

Meanwhile, I have nothing =)))))))))))))))

So yeah, all I need to do now is to just finish those two books and keep the job. 

Dear Love,

I have been reading some old blogs, up until the story of my drowning accident and how unstable I was one week after that.

I have come back to think of writing something because I realized how certain things happen could be just a blessing in disguise instead of tough luck. For example, I felt absolutely shocked when the sales manager told me that she ended my probation earlier as she saw no prospect of me in the team anymore. Imagine it was just a month right after I moved to a new city, paying for all my living and so on and I got cut off like that because of some work drama, some bad work politics... 

HOWEVER! I got a new job position once finally letting go of that sales one! As the matter of fact, the new job is WAY better because my salary even got raised! And I no longer have to worry about KPI/sales commission to have enough money to support my independence. And man the salary is much BETTER while the job is more chilled lol I worked my ass off in the previous position with such a fucking basic/average salary because everything is about commissions. Now I have a decent salary and look forward to the bonuses, especially when it’s a product-led business 🤓

So the point I want to make here is: it never is what it seems/looks/sounds! And indeed, things are just getting better and BETTER I assure you. Sometimes at the time of being in the most dire circumstances, you won’t see the light nor think you are lucky this has happened. But YOU ARE REALLY LUCKY IT HAS HAPPENED! 

Believe me, disguised in such bad luck is the real blessing. 

Always remember, THINGS ARE JUST GETTING BETTER AND BETTER.

So when something is lost or you thought it’s terrible, it means that you could definitely expect something really GOOD coming out of it 😝 and Life is becoming just better and better afterwards 💕

Have Faith 🥳🫐🥝🥐🥨🥓🧇🥞🍔🫓🥪🥙🧆🥘🫕🍝🍣🍱🥫

July 17, 2012

There is only one soul.

When a child is born into a physical being, the spirit entering the body is the one matching the child’s being the most. 

The child grows up then dies, releasing the spirit again into the cosmo. Such soul either wanders around, or goes finding another suitable physical being to enter.