I’ve always been a visual learner, so in a way, this feels like returning to something that has always been there. Drawing has become a way for me to document my days, collecting sketches and memories of how I notice a place.

What details did I pick up on? What did I choose to put down on paper? What made me stop and look twice?

It’s become a pressure-less activity. I draw when I’m seated somewhere, when I have time to slow down, when something catches my eye. There doesn’t have to be a finished piece or anything particularly good to show for it.

Sometimes the point is simply that I noticed.

Drawing has taught me how to see

Drawing from real life is one of the best ways I’ve found to actually be where I am.

When you sit in front of something and try to draw it, you start breaking down what you see differently. Instead of seeing a chair, you notice the angle of its legs. Instead of seeing a building, you notice where its lines begin to disappear toward the horizon.

You start seeing shapes, proportions, shadows, negative space.

Things you might normally walk past suddenly become interesting.

Since I started drawing more again, I’ve noticed details in the real world even when I’m not sketching. I find myself observing constantly. The shape of a lamp, the lettering on an old storefront, the way two buildings overlap, the tiny objects someone chose to put on a café table.

And I think that’s one of my favorite things drawing has given me.

Not necessarily the ability to draw something perfectly, but the ability to notice more.

Learning to slow down

I think part of learning to see is also learning to slow down.

There are so many places I could walk through in five minutes, take a photo of and move on from. Drawing asks something different of me.

If I decide to sketch something, I have to stay.

I have to sit there long enough to notice how things connect. I notice people coming and going, the way the light changes, the objects around me that I probably wouldn’t have paid attention to otherwise.

A place that could have been a quick stop becomes somewhere I actually spent time.

I like that carrying a sketchbook gives me a reason to do that.

It has changed the pace at which I experience places. Instead of always thinking about where I’m going next, sometimes I just sit down, open my sketchbook and let myself stay exactly where I am.

What i choose to notice

Something I’ve started thinking about is that drawing isn’t only a record of what was in front of me.

It’s a record of what I chose to notice.

Two people could sit in the exact same café and come away with completely different pages.

Maybe I notice the curve of a chair, the typeface on the menu, the shape of a lamp or the way a shelf has been styled. Someone else might notice the people, the food or the view outside.

There are hundreds of things in front of me, but only a handful ever make it onto the page.

And over time, I think those choices start to say something about me too.

My sketchbooks are slowly becoming a collection of the things I’m naturally drawn to. Objects, interiors, buildings, colors, little compositions and details that made me look twice.

Maybe, without really trying to, I’m creating a record of how I see the world.

Back to paper and pen

After years of working in design on a screen, there’s something especially nice about returning to paper and pen.

There’s no undo button. No perfectly aligned frame. No need for everything to become a deliverable.

I can just look, draw and move on.

Maybe that’s also why carrying a sketchbook has become such an important part of this chapter of my life. I’m spending more time creating again, exploring new places, and giving myself room to follow my curiosity.

The sketchbook gives all of those little observations somewhere to live.

Drawing without an outcome

I’m also learning that not everything I make needs to become something.

For a long time, creativity was closely connected to an outcome. There was a problem to solve, something to deliver, someone to design for or a reason the work needed to exist.

Sketching feels different. Sometimes I draw something simply because I wanted to draw it.

It doesn’t need to become a finished illustration. It doesn’t need to go into a portfolio. It doesn’t need to become a product. It doesn’t even need to be something I show anyone.

There’s something freeing about making something that doesn’t have to prove its value afterward.

The act of sitting there and drawing was enough. And weirdly, removing that expectation has made me want to create even more.

Letting go of perfection

I think another reason I’ve fallen back in love with sketching is that it’s helping me let go of perfection.

Working in digital products for years, so much of my job was about refining. You iterate, test, question the solution, refine it again, and make sure what you’re designing actually works for the people using it.

There’s always a reason to go back and make something better.

Strip all of that away and come back to everyday sketching, and suddenly there is no right or wrong. It’s just me and my pen.

My lines are far from straight. My shapes definitely aren’t perfect. I scribble, layer things on top of each other and shade over mistakes. Hell, sometimes my perspective is completely off.

But who cares?

I actually think that’s where so much of the character comes from.

Sometimes I look closely at one of my sketches and laugh because it really is just a bunch of scribbles, shapes and shading. But when I pull myself back and look at the whole page, somehow it works.

Maybe there’s something in that beyond drawing, too.

When you’re too close to something, it’s easy to obsess over every crooked line. Sometimes you have to pull yourself out, look at the whole picture and trust the process a little more.

A way of remembering

I think this might be the part I’ll appreciate most years from now.

Of course I take photos everywhere I go. But there’s something different about looking back at something I drew.

I remember sitting there.

I remember what caught my attention first. I remember deciding what would fit on the page and what I would leave out. Sometimes I remember the sounds around me, what I was drinking, who I was with or what I was thinking about while I drew.

A sketch doesn’t capture everything about a place. It captures what I noticed.

I think I want to come back to these same places in a few years and see them differently. I want to flip through these pages and remember not just where I was, but what I was paying attention to at the time.

Maybe that’s what I’m actually collecting. Not perfect drawings of places, but little records of how I experienced them.

So yes, I think I’ll keep bringing my sketchbook everywhere. On errands. To cafés. On long walks. On trips. Even when I’m convinced I probably won’t use it. Because sometimes I do.

And sometimes slowing down long enough to draw something is exactly what makes me see it.

If you want to kickstart your sketching journey here are the sketchbook essentials I started with.

See you in the next note,

Janice

Continue reading

But it’s a feeling I was prepared for.

I’ve done enough work to understand my own mind and how quickly it can spiral if I let it. These feelings aren’t new to me anymore, and I trust myself enough to know they’ll pass.

It’s only been ten days since I arrived in Paris and just over two weeks since my last day at my corporate job.

Before leaving Miami, I had already started interviewing for roles in Berlin and across EMEA as a way to test the market and understand where I stood. I’m genuinely proud that I made it to final rounds. In one process, there was simply someone who was a stronger fit.

Of course, it would have been nice to receive an offer and remove some of the uncertainty that comes with this chapter. But deep down, I knew it wasn’t meant to be mine. A redirection, maybe.

Because if I’m being honest with myself, a part of me never wants to go back to corporate.

I value stability, and I value freedom. But for as long as I can remember, I’ve envisioned a life where I work for myself — where I partner with multiple companies at once, helping them think strategically, build meaningful products, and bring ideas into the world.

I’m writing this out loud because somehow every road seems to circle back to this.

This morning I got ready and walked myself to a café because cafés have always been my reset button. When I’m overwhelmed or feeling frazzled, I write, plan, organize, and map out possibilities. I need to turn uncertainty into options because it gives me a sense of order and knowing.

Funnily enough, a few of my close girlfriends are also navigating unemployment right now.

I’ve started to see this period less as being “between jobs” and more as a transitional season that life has unexpectedly given us — time to figure out what we actually want next instead of staying comfortable or immediately jumping into the next thing simply because that’s what we’re supposed to do.

At the end of the day, we’re healthy, capable, loved, and fortunate enough to have options. How we spend our time matters.

So we’re exploring, soul-searching, travelling, spending time alone, building things, meeting people, and saying yes to opportunities we might not have considered before. Perspective changes everything.

Uncertainty will come and go. I’m not worried about that part.

Even during interviews, I found myself saying the same thing over and over again: yes, I made this jump because I believe in myself.

And I do.

This morning I spent time sketching, journaling, and planning. I asked myself what kind of work I would love doing in five or ten years if corporate wasn’t the default answer.

A few ideas came up, but one stood out immediately.

I want to work with multiple companies at once. I want to build products, shape strategy, help businesses grow, and run my own thing.

Now the question isn’t whether I want that life. The question is how I start preparing for it today.

Because sometimes the most important thing you can give yourself isn’t an answer. It’s permission.

Permission to slow down.

Permission to change direction.

Permission to want something different from what you were taught success should look like.

Most of us grew up moving directly from one milestone to the next with no space in between. School, university, job, promotion, next job.

We become attached to titles and salaries because that’s the framework we’ve been handed for success and happiness.

But for the first time in a long time, I feel like I know what actually makes me happy.

And now it’s up to me to build the path that gets me there.

See you in the next note,

Janice

there you are

i quit my six-figure u.s. job and moved to paris

hello from a parisian airbnb apartment…

Read more

2 months ago · 15 likes · 3 comments · Janice Fong

the last few months have been a whirlwind. i’ve been neglecting my substack writing, but now that i’m fun-employed, in paris, and finally feeling more settled, i have the time and headspace to start writing again.

so, here’s a little life update.

for the last three and a half years, i lived in miami working for a software company on an l1a visa. leaving was entirely my choice — a decision made to move closer to a dream i’ve had for a very long time: living in europe.

as a north american girl born and raised, i can proudly say i’ve experienced both canadian and american life and work culture. naturally, as a creative soul, europe always felt like a dream waiting in the distance.

anyone who knows me isn’t surprised by this move. i’ve been talking about it from the very beginning — how badly i wanted to live in europe, immerse myself in a new culture, meet new people, slow down, and find inspiration in new surroundings.

getting here took a lot of planning and preparation, both mentally and practically. there was a surprising amount of life admin involved in uprooting an entire life and moving across an ocean.

as humans, we tie so much of our life planning to our careers. at some point, though, you have to decide what is best for you and what aligns most closely with the life you want to build.

for me, that meant leaving behind a six-figure usd salary, comfort, job security, and a team i genuinely loved working with.

i wrestled with the decision for a long time: continue making good, predictable money or take a chance on myself and discover what might be waiting on the other side.

eventually, the answer became clear.

the hardest part is now behind me, although new challenges always replace old ones.

i’m currently interviewing and heading into final rounds, but i don’t have a signed offer yet. that means it’s back to the drawing board some days, but i’m incredibly proud to even be in this position — to have given myself the opportunity to try.

in the meantime, i’m living in paris with my best friend.

we have friends visiting throughout the summer, countless activities planned, and trips scattered across the calendar. i feel incredibly lucky and grateful for this season of life.

although i’m still job searching, i made a promise to myself that i don’t want to spend all of my time and mental energy worrying about the next role. i want to dedicate a few meaningful hours each week to applications and interviews, and spend the rest of my time actually living the life i worked so hard to create.

enjoy paris.

i’ve also picked up an old hobby again: sketching.

i’ve felt so inspired by this city already. sketching brings me a surprising amount of joy and focus. it reconnects me to the things i loved as a child and gives me an opportunity to practice skills that had quietly been sitting dormant for years.

my work as a product designer revolves around digital screens, systems, and interfaces. sometimes it can be difficult to separate work creativity from personal creativity.

i’m really trying to use this time to reconnect with all the things i love outside of work.

exploring new neighborhoods.

trying new things.

sitting in parks.

visiting museums.

eating delicious pastries and bakeries.

spending equal amounts of time alone and with friends.

paying attention.

so i guess this is my first real post written from paris.

i’m excited to share more updates from this chapter and document what comes next.

and if you’re interested in following along with my designer’s observation journal, you’ll find plenty of inspiration in daily photographs, sketches, and small moments collected along the way.

for now, here’s a little life update from your fun-employed canadian living in paris.

— janice ♡

My mom and I share similar routines. We’re morning birds. We love our breakfast, coffee sips, and chats before starting the day. Nothing changes when we get to share these rituals when I visit.

A few years ago, work gave me an opportunity to move across the continent.

So what has that been like, now that I’m long distance from my family?

“You know I also moved away from my family in Hong Kong at an age younger than you.”

I don’t know why, but it never really hit me to think about that fact. My mom was in her early twenties. She has been long distance from her family for over thirty years.

At first, I felt excited and free. I was having so much fun, so many highs and lows. Funnily enough, as I grew older, I started constantly updating my parents. Our relationship became stronger. There was trust, respect, and I was no longer being asked for updates — the roles had reversed. I wanted to share with them.

Over time, when I hit rough patches or when I get sick, I think of my family first. I miss it.

And I am fortunate that my company has an office in my hometown, so trips back are always approved and I can work there when I visit.

Even with all the freedom and opportunity, there was still guilt underneath it.

The sacrifice I am making to experience life in other places comes at the cost of being away from my own.

I sat with that guilt for a while.

The guilt slowly faded as I realized that when you learn to communicate, and be present with the time you do have, distance feels less harsh.

For the foreseeable future, I will most likely not live in Vancouver.

Many people ask me if and when I would move back. My answer is consistently: probably when I settle down and have a family.

I would love for my kid(s) to be near my parents.

My parents now visit Asia twice a year, and even then they say it’s enough time spent with their families. That reassures me, and I am so grateful my parents are chill and understanding. They value their freedom and my own.

All in all, how you choose to experience life is your choice. You make a choice and roll with it. But having a family that backs and supports you makes me feel so loved and privileged.

Privileged that my parents never guilt me.

We are able to have these open conversations about guilt, shame, and upsetting situations.

See you in the next note,

– Janice

Continue reading

It’s funny how your friends can sometimes see your growth before you fully realize it yourself.

I get sent a lot of memes and videos by my closest friends, and it just so happened that this past weekend, two really stuck with me. One was about “when you protected your peace too much… now it’s just gym, work, cook, and text mom,” which is honestly so on point because that’s exactly what my days look like right now. Any minor inconvenience or update, I’m texting the family group chat — probably sending more updates than they do.

The other was my friend telling me she can tell I’ve been more and more closed off in this chapter of my life, and that she knows it’s going to change. She said she’s excited for my new space and environment because she knows I’ll open up again.

It was such a simple thing to hear, but it stayed with me. Because they really see me. They know the version of me underneath everything, and they want the best for me. And for the first time in a while, I realized that I want that for myself too.

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚

Looking back, it’s actually kind of crazy how much I’ve changed since I got dumped a few years ago. Every relationship, every situationship, every encounter gave me something. Not always in a nice or easy way, but something I carry with me now. So in a way, this really is character development, courtesy of my exes.

Growing up, I had a stronger need for validation and love from men than I would like to admit. A lot of that came from not receiving the kind of love I needed at home. I didn’t fully understand that until I started therapy in my mid-20s, but that’s when things started to click.

I had to work through a lot of internal narratives — not feeling good enough, needing to be chosen, fear of rejection, feeling needed, and being cheated on. That last one especially followed me into almost every relationship. I didn’t trust myself, so I didn’t trust the people I was with either. I would overthink, try to control situations, and hold onto things longer than I should have.

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚

At the same time, my relationship with my family was evolving. My mom and I went through our own journey and therapy together, and it completely changed our dynamic. We moved from misunderstandings, nagging, and resentment to something much more open and supportive. It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it.

My relationship with my dad has been slower to mend. For a long time, it felt distant. But over time, I started to understand that the way he shows love is through acts of service. He handles things like my car, fills up my gas, picks me up from the airport, and makes sure everything is taken care of when I come home.

It helped me realize that love doesn’t always look the way you expect it to, and that our parents were also shaped by what they didn’t receive growing up.

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚

When I look back at my relationships, each one reflects a different version of me.

My first relationship was young and exciting. It was that puppy love phase where everything felt new, and I learned how much I loved exploring, planning dates, and trying new things with someone. But it was also where I experienced being cheated on for the first time. I stayed longer than I should have because I didn’t have enough self-love or trust in myself at that age. Eventually, I couldn’t deal with the secrecy, the lies, and the constant anxiety, so I let it go. Looking back, I wish I had taken the time to properly heal from that.

My second relationship was the complete opposite. He was kind, sweet, and consistent. We had a lot of good memories, shared music, and spent time with friends. But my insecurities still showed up at times, and I started to realize we lacked direction and ambition. We were young, around 21, and eventually the relationship just fizzled out.

My third relationship was probably the hardest one. He was older, and it was the first time I experienced someone being controlling and manipulative. It brought out a side of me I didn’t recognize. There were constant arguments, and I felt like I was shrinking in the relationship. I’ve never been someone who raises their voice, but that relationship pushed me to that point. It lasted two years, which was too long, but it taught me very clearly what I do not want in a partner.

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚

After that, I went through a phase of situationships in my mid-20s, and honestly, that might have been even more confusing. I told myself I could handle something casual, that I was the “cool girl” who didn’t need labels, but that wasn’t true at all.

The uncertainty, the grey area, the push and pull — it made me anxious and unfocused. Even when things felt good in the moment, I found myself wanting more than they were able to give. I kept bending over backwards for something that was never going to meet me fully.

Eventually, cutting it off completely was the best thing I did for myself.

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚

My last relationship was someone I had known since I was 13. We had that kind of long-term, on-and-off connection — a crush when we were younger that turned into a friendship where we would check in on each other every now and then. It always felt like we were slightly out of sync. One of us would be single, the other would be dating, and it never quite lined up.

Until it finally did.

That summer, he decided he wanted to pursue something more seriously. I remember feeling hesitant at first because it was new to me — the idea of growing something out of a friendship. But I could tell he really wanted to try. He was nervous, in a genuine way, like he wanted to show up as the best partner he could be for me.

And for a while, I thought maybe this could be different.

But every now and then, I felt like something was missing. I couldn’t fully explain it at the time, but looking back, I think I was missing depth. I was missing emotional presence.

What I’ve come to understand is that you can only meet someone as deeply as they know themselves.

We ended because he needed time to work on himself, and at that point I had already started my own healing journey. I handled it with a lot more empathy and clarity than I would have before.

But not long after, I found out he was already seeing someone else. And honestly, instead of being devastated, I felt clarity. It showed me everything I needed to know, and I was able to fully let go.

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚

Looking back at all of this, I realized the common thread wasn’t just the people I was choosing, but also what I was allowing — what I said yes to, what I ignored, and what I tried to make work even when it didn’t feel right.

Now, I choose differently. I choose my peace, my independence, and my own growth. I’ve learned how to be alone without feeling like something is missing.

And the more I grow, the more selective I become. Not in a guarded way, but in a way that reflects self-respect. If I’m choosing someone to build a future with, I’m going to take my time and choose carefully.

I’m not in a rush anymore. I have things I want to build on my own, and a life I’m creating for myself.

And when I do meet someone, it won’t be because I need them. It’ll be because they add to what I already have.

See you in the next note,

— Janice

Continue reading

ngl, i was very overwhelmed in the last month, and last month was about re-grounding — clearing, slowing down, coming back to yourself.

i learned that i needed to unblock myself mentally and trim down my focus and priorities to 1–3 core tasks. as opposed to doing everything all at once. applying unnecessary mental pressure on myself.

coming out of March, my mind feels so much more clear. i was able to make progress in the things that mattered — the ones that would help my future self. these actions will help lower my future anxiety, and i’m so proud.

now, this month is about building from that place.

not perfectly. not all at once.
just… something real, something that holds.

i’ve been decluttering, resetting, simplifying — and now there’s space.
so the question becomes: what do i actually want to build into it?

join me as i move into this next phase — building intentionally.

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚

April reflections:

1. What am I intentionally building in my life right now?

2. What feels ready to grow — not just be maintained?

3. Where do I need more structure to support myself?

4. What systems would make my daily life easier?

5. Where am I still overthinking instead of starting?

6. What does “building a life that feels good” look like for me?

7. What am I doing consistently that I can build on?

8. Where am I relying on motivation instead of structure?

9. What is one routine I want to solidify this month?

10. What habits actually support my energy — not just look good?

11. What does a realistic, aligned day look like for me right now?

12. What makes me feel productive in a way that actually matters?

13. What feels forced in my current routine?

14. What can I simplify instead of quitting?

15. What am I avoiding building — and why?

16. What distractions are pulling me away from what matters?

17. What does focus look like for me in this season?

18. What does “doing enough” look like on a normal day?

19. What am I building that no one else sees yet?

20. What small actions are shaping who I’m becoming?

21. Who am I becoming through my daily choices?

22. What version of me am I quietly stepping into?

23. What would the most aligned version of me prioritize?

24. What feels more natural to me now than it did last month?

25. What am I proud of building so far?

26. What is starting to feel like part of my identity?

27. What do I want to continue building into next month?

28. What can I let be imperfect while I build?

29. What am I learning about myself through what I’m building?

30. What would it look like to trust this process — even if it’s slow?

there’s no right way to move through these. some days you’ll write a lot, other days just a line — both count.

like i mentioned before, i usually journal once a week on the weekend — or ad-hoc when i feel like i need a good scribble / vent.

if you’re on this constant journey of growth, change, and building,
i’m really proud of you for choosing it.

this isn’t about building something impressive. it’s about building something that actually supports you.

see you in the next note,

— Janice

More prompts

this is something i’ve been thinking about a lot lately, and it didn’t come all at once. it’s been building slowly as i started noticing how often i was doing something while also thinking about how it would look if i shared it. not even in a negative way, just naturally. like living the moment, but also slightly outside of it. and that’s when it clicked for me how easy it is for presence to turn into performance.

so i started asking myself a really simple question: if no one could see this, would i still be doing it? no posting, no sharing, no one knowing. just me. and the answer wasn’t as straightforward as i expected.

there are things i would absolutely still do. i would still go on my walks, sit at a cafe, work out, and take time for myself. those things feel grounding and don’t require an audience to matter. but there are also things i wouldn’t do as much. i don’t dress up every day, i don’t plate my food nicely, and most of my real life is actually very simple. i’m usually in comfortable clothes, making quick meals, and just moving through my day without thinking too much about how it looks. for a while, i think i blurred the line between what i actually do and what i like the idea of doing.

even something like reading made me realize this. i like the idea of being someone who reads often, and i do enjoy it, but in reality it comes in phases. it only really happens when i slow down enough to sit and focus. when life feels busy or rushed, it’s one of the first things that drops. that made me realize not everything needs to be a fixed identity. some things are just rhythms that come and go.

the same goes for sharing things i buy or like. if i couldn’t post, would i still talk about it as much? probably not. maybe i would text a friend or bring it up if someone asked, but it wouldn’t feel as constant. it becomes quieter and more personal, and i think there’s something really grounding about that.

lately i’ve been drawn to a quieter way of living. less curated, less about showing, and more about just being in it. the kind of life where you grab a coffee and just drink it without taking a photo, where you go on a walk without your phone in your hand, where you sit somewhere a little longer than you need to, or read a few pages slowly instead of trying to finish a chapter. wearing the same simple outfit because it’s comfortable, not because it’s new, and going out without thinking about whether it’s worth documenting. those small moments feel a lot more real to me now.

i’ve also noticed how my relationship with content has changed. i used to follow a lot of creators who were constantly sharing and recommending things, and while there’s nothing wrong with that, it started to feel like i was always being pulled into something. buying more, trying more, becoming more. now i find myself drawn to people who just live their lives and share parts of it naturally. not everything is optimized or aesthetic, it’s just honest.

i still go back and forth with being online and offline, and i don’t think the answer is to completely step away or stop sharing. it’s more about being aware and checking in with yourself. asking if what you’re doing actually feels like you, or if it’s shaped by what you think people want to see.

because at the end of the day, who you are offline matters more than anything online. how you take care of yourself, how you spend your time when no one is watching, and how you show up for the people around you. that version of you is the most real.

sharing can be meaningful, it can connect people, and it can be a way to express yourself. but i think the important part is making sure it comes from a genuine place. that you’re not shaping your life just to share it, and that what people see is aligned with who you actually are.

i want my life to feel like mine first, and anything i share to just be an extension of that. i’m beginning to feel a lot more aligned now with what i’m sharing, because it actually reflects my life. and maybe that’s what i needed to learn.

see you in the next note,

– Janice

It’s been a while since I felt this level of overwhelm, but I think this is what growth actually feels like. Tis life.

Something cool is coming into my life and I can’t wait.

The last few weeks have been… interesting. It started after a therapy session and somehow turned into my therapist giving me more life advice than anything else. Not mindset or feelings just: plan, prep, organize your shit.

The unknown used to scare me. Now I’m learning to accept it, not by trying to control everything, but by understanding what I can. More importantly, I’ve been asking myself: what can I do today that helps my future self feel less anxious, less overwhelmed, less stressed?

Writing things down has helped more than anything. A full brain dump, pen to paper. It clears the noise in a way nothing else does.

There were days this month where I tried to do everything at once and completely overloaded myself. I stopped going to the gym, stayed home more than I should have, and kept reaching for quick dopamine. Everything just kept looping in my head. Even weekends felt stressful because I was trying to figure out the “perfect” way to structure my time.

Create more, consume less.

Sometimes you think you’re getting inspired by consuming, but you’ve actually crossed into overconsumption — and that’s the thing quietly blocking you from creating.

What it really came down to was overthinking everything, trying to prioritize perfectly, and waiting until I felt ready.

the shift

So I stopped trying to figure everything out and just started. One thing at a time, without overthinking it. Because the truth is, I already knew what truly mattered, I was just getting distracted by less impactful things.

I limited myself to one to three important things a day. That shift alone made everything feel more manageable.

I also realized I’m in a build phase right now, not a curate phase. I don’t need everything to look perfect, I just need to move forward. The refining can come later.

The biggest turning point was slowing down. I wasn’t giving myself space to think, so everything felt rushed and chaotic. Neglecting the gym made it worse — I was stuck in a loop for almost three weeks because my mind felt too full to focus.

One Saturday I paused and asked myself what I was doing. That’s when I reset.

I went back to basics — daily walks, lifting during the week, getting out of the house, seeing friends, and eating real, nourishing meals. Nothing complicated, just structure that actually supports me.

That reset reminded me that I can always pull myself back. I was the one getting in my own way.

Once I let go of that mental block, everything started to click again. I could focus better, move faster, and actually feel good about the progress I was making.

what actually helped

If you’re feeling like this, here’s what actually helped me:

1. Brain dump everything — pen to paper, get it all out of your head
2. Highlight what truly matters — what supports your mental health and future self
3. Define your non-negotiables — the basics that keep you grounded
4. Limit your priorities — 1–3 high-impact tasks max
5. Reset daily — sleep well and start fresh with a simple plan

Taking intentional breaks helped more than I expected. Going outside, changing environments, even something small like putting on music or getting a coffee made it easier to reset and focus again.

Cutting distractions was also key. I started being more intentional with when I check my phone and social media, and it made a huge difference.

The biggest thing I learned this month is that keeping your core self healthy makes everything else easier. Moving your body, getting sunlight, and taking care of your energy impacts everything.

You don’t need a better system. You just need to unblock yourself. Everything else comes after.

See you in the next note,

Janice Fong

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I had dinner with my girlfriends this past weekend and the conversation naturally landed on being present in the now. Funny enough, I had almost the exact same conversation later on the phone with my mom.

With everything happening in the world, it’s hard not to wonder how much of the noise seeps into us. Does it quietly shake our core — our values, beliefs, nervous systems? Do we still feel safe in ourselves?

Living in Florida right now, I can definitely feel it. Lately I’ve caught myself missing home and craving a bit of grounding. I’ve been trying to listen more closely to what I need, so I asked work if I could book a ticket back home for a bit — to spend time with family and work from the office there.

When the world feels loud, sometimes the only thing we can control is how we return to ourselves. Slowing down. Quieting the noise. Remembering who we are underneath everything.

So for March, the focus is this:
grounded self-worth.

Detaching our value from productivity.
From appearance.
From external validation.

And remembering that life is much bigger than the pressure we often place on ourselves.

Theme: Coming home to yourself

Week 1 — Detaching from external validation

1. Where did I learn to measure my worth?

2. What parts of me exist outside productivity?

3. When do I feel most like myself?

4. What expectations am I ready to release?

5. What does “enough” look like for me today?

6. Whose approval still affects me?

7. What would I do if I trusted myself more?

Week 2 — Body neutrality & respect

8. What has my body carried me through?

9. What do I appreciate about my body beyond appearance?

10. When do I feel most comfortable in my body?

11. What messages about bodies do I want to unlearn?

12. How can I treat my body like an ally?

13. What does strength mean to me now?

14. What habits make me feel grounded physically?

Week 3 — Life is Bigger than the noise

15. What actually matters in my life right now?

16. What am I giving too much attention to?

17. Where can I zoom out?

18. What parts of life make me feel small in a good way?

19. What would a slower life look like?

20. What am I grateful for that I often overlook?

21. If the world feels chaotic, where can I create calm?

Week 4 — Identity & inner confidence

22. Who am I when no one is watching?

23. What qualities make me proud of myself?

24. What do I want to be known for?

25. Where am I growing quietly?

26. What fears are losing power over me?

27. What boundaries protect my peace?

28. What version of me is emerging?

29. What did this month teach me about myself?

30. What beliefs about worth am I releasing?

31. How do I want to move forward?

I’ve really been enjoying these guided prompts because they aren’t strict. They’re open-ended, and I don’t feel pressured to write every single day.

Lately I’ve actually found myself journaling more on the weekends — when there’s no rush and my mind feels the most clear. It’s become a slower, more intentional ritual instead of something on a checklist.

However you choose to use these prompts, I hope they give you a moment to pause and reconnect with yourself.

I hope you’re having a beautiful day, wherever you are in the world.

See you in the next note <3
Janice

Previous prompts

Lately, I’ve noticed something.

So many of the women around me — especially my girls — are reaching for something creative. Everyone’s starting something. Posting. Filming. Writing. Designing. Making.

And it’s not about being an influencer.

It feels deeper than that.

It feels like we’re all trying to return to ourselves.

Like creativity is becoming less of a hobby… and more of a language. A way to process life. A way to make meaning out of ordinary days.

Maybe this is what happens when you grow up.

You stop consuming and start creating.

I was born in the 90s, which means we spent almost a third of our lives without social media — and I’m endlessly thankful for that.

I think about those years a lot.

Trips to the library. Outdoor playdates. Summer camps. Meeting friends in real life and feeling fully present. We were truly living.

Then came middle school. The anxious teenage phase. And slowly, social media began to dominate.

Likes. Comments. Endless scrolling. Useless videos filling our brains.

Back then, we didn’t have words like doomscroll, brain rot, or iPad babies — but we were living through the beginning of it.

Of course technology will always evolve.

But the way we choose to let it shape our personal lives… that part is still our choice.

I had a recent conversation with a close friend about overwhelm — about overconsumption, about having too many ideas and nowhere to put them.

For years, I’ve been my own biggest blocker.

Thinking what I put out there isn’t good enough.
Comparing. Second-guessing. Convincing myself I’m not good enough.

But lately, something has shifted.

I feel more sure of myself.

Maybe it’s true what they say about turning thirty — that it’s different from your twenties because you finally know yourself more clearly.

And honestly… you start caring less about what other people think.

I’ve always loved art. Making things. Sharing. Inspiring.

I love helping others feel more like themselves, too.

And maybe this really is the season of making.

So I want to share a little of my world with you — starting with the wonderful women around me, who inspire me daily in their own unique ways:

— My biggest inspiration. Pure “I want it, I got it” energy. She shares all things tech, productivity, style, books… and the occasional perfect perfume find.

— The outdoor girl of our group. Always traveling, hiking, backpacking, truly experiencing the world in the most grounded, adventurous way.

Summer — A girl’s best friend. Beauty and fashion guru through and through: honest reviews, try-ons, and opinions that always feel real.

Peggy — Such a strong creative eye. From fitness to 3D modeling to her mini trips around the world, she makes everything feel intentional and inspired.

Shianne — The first of us to get married. Sharing bridal wisdom, new chapters of love, and her growing passion for fitness and simple nourishing recipes.

There’s a quote that says: you are the five closest people around you.

And man, am I lucky.

I get to live this life alongside such incredible women — watching each of us create in our own ways. In ways that speak to our natural interests, our real hobbies, our innate selves.

It’s beautiful to witness.

And maybe that’s why so many of us are creating right now.

Not for attention.

But because becoming more certain of who you are makes you want to share.

Creativity is a quiet kind of confidence.

A way of saying: this is me.

More soon.

🤍

Continue reading

I’d bring my silly notebook to a café, sit, and catch up on the week. Sometimes I’d reflect day by day, but other times it felt just as good to collect a week’s worth and take my time with it over the weekend. Do as you please, of course.

I liked how each question seemed to arrive at the perfect time — how it made me think and write deeper, not just in my own head.

Join me as I carry this small ritual into the next month. 28 days of prompts!

1. What did January teach me about myself?

2. Where did I show up even when it was hard?

3. What habits actually supported me — not just looked good on paper?

4. What drained my energy last month?

5. What do I want less of this month?

6. What does discipline look like in my current season of life?

7. Where am I relying on motivation instead of structure?

8. What promise can I realistically keep to myself this month?

9. How do I talk to myself on days I don’t feel like showing up?

10. What small action helps me feel proud of myself at the end of the day?

11. What makes my body feel strongest?

12. What does “listening to my body” actually look like for me?

13. How does rest show up as discipline in my life?

14. What foods make me feel energized and grounded?

15. How can I support my body this month instead of pushing it?

16. What emotions have been recurring lately?

17. What am I avoiding feeling — and why?

18. When do I feel most calm?

19. What does my nervous system need more of?

20. What helps me come back to myself?

21. Who am I becoming through my daily habits?

22. What version of me am I quietly building?

23. What would the healthiest version of me do on an average day?

24. What am I proud of that no one else sees?

25. What does alignment feel like in my body?

26. What intention do I want to carry into March?

27. What can I let be easy this month?

28. What am I learning to trust? What am I ready to release?

There’s no right way to move through these prompts. Some days you’ll write a page, other days just a sentence — both count. What matters is the pause, the intention, and the honesty you bring to the page.

See you in the next note <3

Janice

Did you achieve what you wanted?
Were you consistent with the rituals that bring you joy and life?

I had a few habit-building rituals on my list — ones I knew would support my mental and physical health. I’m not a fan of annual goals.

Real change doesn’t come from a yearly reset, but from long-term lifestyle shifts that quietly compound over time.

A few months ago, I made a choice that aligned deeply with the person I want to become: working with an online fitness coach. We meet weekly, and she helps me build custom workout plans and nutrition macros. Since then, I’ve gained confidence in the gym, built daily habits, and gotten stronger week after week.

One of her lessons — on discipline versus motivation — completely shifted how I think about why we do the things we do. And I wanted to share what I’ve learned.

Motivation comes and goes, but discipline is what keeps you consistent.

Motivation relies on feelings and external excitement, which naturally fade over time. Discipline, on the other hand, is built on habits and commitment — showing up even when you’re tired, busy, or uninspired. By training discipline instead of chasing motivation, you create long-term consistency and progress, especially during challenging moments.

Building discipline isn’t about willpower — it’s about structure.

You build it by setting clear intentions, creating routines you treat as non-negotiable, and starting small enough to stay consistent. Planning ahead removes decision fatigue, while focusing on the process — not just the outcome — keeps you showing up even on low-energy days. Over time, these small, repeated actions become habits, and discipline becomes something you rely on, not something you force.

How to Build Discipline

1. Get clear on your “why.”

Discipline starts with intention. Define what you’re working toward and why it matters to you — not what you think you should want. When your goal is rooted in how you want to feel — stronger, calmer, more grounded — it’s easier to show up consistently.

For me, I want to move my body and get stronger and leaner. I also don’t want to complain about feeling tired or unmotivated — I want to take action and build daily habits instead. I’ve learned to love walking and lifting, even though I had to take a break from reformer Pilates after hurting my wrist.

I want to be the healthiest version of myself so I can be present in my daily life and truly show up. For me, that begins with nutrition, movement, and sleep — no less than eight hours.

2. Create a routine you can rely on.

Remove ambiguity by deciding when things happen. Schedule your workouts, meals, and rest like non-negotiable appointments. When the decision is already made, discipline doesn’t feel heavy — it feels automatic.

This step is all trial and error. With working out, I’ve tried everything — mornings, noon, evenings. I know now that I’m most alert in the morning and at midday. My sweet spot is lunch workouts during the week and morning workouts on weekends.

Find the time that works best for your discipline training — not what looks ideal, but what’s realistic and sustainable.

3. Start smaller than you think you need to.

Consistency beats intensity. Momentum is built through actions that feel manageable, repeatable, and sustainable. Starting small builds trust with yourself — and that trust compounds.

Pick one or two things to focus on and build the foundation first. We often overwhelm ourselves by trying to change everything at once. Instead, choose the habits that will have the biggest long-term payoff.

For me, that was nutrition and daily movement. I started buying more whole foods and fewer processed ones. I committed to working out four times a week, mixing lifting with Pilates and walking days.

4. Reduce decision fatigue.

Plan ahead so you’re not negotiating with yourself in the moment. Lay out your gym clothes. Prep your meals. Simplify your environment. Discipline thrives when friction is removed.

Repetition and consistency win the race. This is compound building — and it requires patience. I’ve learned what makes me feel my best, and once I created routines and plans, my weeks became more structured and filled with things that make me feel happy, healthy, and strong.

5. Focus on the process, not the outcome.

Shift your attention from results to repetition. Celebrate showing up — even on days when your energy is low or the workout isn’t perfect. Discipline is built in the quiet moments of follow-through.

There are weeks — especially during my luteal phase — when I feel unmotivated, and that can challenge my discipline. But I’ve also learned to listen to my body. Discipline includes rest days and rest weeks. My coach constantly reminds me that rest is part of the process, not a setback.

Discipline is built by showing up on the hard days, not just the easy ones. It grows through accountability, support, and a willingness to keep going even when progress feels slow. When motivation fades, remembering who you’re becoming — and why you started — helps you stay aligned. Over time, these small choices add up, and what once felt challenging becomes second nature.

Let’s build together! See you in the next note.

Janice

Continue reading

I recently purchased a second Paper Republic notebook, and beyond my occasional (sporadic) journaling, constant list-making, and sketching, I wanted to challenge myself to use part of it for gentle daily journal prompts. I thought I’d share this practice with my Substack friends.

Lately, I’ve been focusing on building discipline rather than relying on motivation. My fitness coach put it simply: motivation is driven by feelings and excitement, so it naturally comes and goes. Discipline, on the other hand, is built on habits and commitment—it’s what keeps you going when motivation fades.

This mindset can apply to everyday life too: the goals you set, the choices you make, and how you show up for the future you want to build.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Again, this isn’t about doing it perfectly.
One sentence counts. Skipping days is allowed. Come back whenever you need.

1. How do I feel starting this year?

2. What does my body need right now?

3. What gave me energy recently?

4. What am I ready to let go of?

5. What do I want more of (no judgment)?

6. Where can I trust myself more?

7. How do I want this month to feel?

8. What do I need less of right now, and what do I need more of?

9. What felt heavy today—and what helped, even a little?

10. When do I feel most like myself lately? (I just wrote my answer today)

11. What’s one habit I’m proud of keeping (even imperfectly)?

12. What am I avoiding—and what would happen if I approached it gently?

13. What does “taking care of my body” look like for me right now?

14. What am I learning about myself this month?

15. What kind of content feels most natural for me to create—and why?

16. What’s one small win I didn’t give myself credit for today?

17. What drains my energy? What restores it?

18. If I trusted myself fully, what choice would I make next?

19. What does consistency actually mean to me (not the internet’s version)?

20. What am I grateful for in my body today?

21. What kind of person am I becoming—and do I like her?

22. What would make my days feel 10% calmer?

23. What belief about myself am I ready to let go of?

24. What does “enough” look like for me today?

25. What excites me about the life I’m slowly building?

26. When do I feel most confident—and what’s usually present in that moment?

27. What’s one thing I did this month that required courage?

28. What routines actually support me vs. ones I’m forcing?

29. How do I want people to feel when they interact with me or my content?

30. What am I proud of myself for this month—no minimizing allowed?

31. What do I want to carry into next month—and what can I leave behind?

These are one of the four daily habit trackers I have in my Continuo app. It’s been super low pressure lately and easier helps me reflect and fill up my notebook.

Grateful you’re here—see you in the next note.

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What’s fascinating is that my core interests, deep desires, and the things that make me me have stayed relatively constant. They feel deeply rooted in who I am.

People change, evolve, and grow—but for me, the fundamentals have remained the same.

Which ones do you align with?

1. The Designer–Curator

You love systems and aesthetics.

• Product & design systems thinking

• Visual curation (mood boards, IG-as-Pinterest)

• Notion systems & life organization

• Curating Spotify playlists

The Designer–Curator isn’t just about making things look good—it’s about crafting meaning through order. You see patterns where others see clutter, and you’re driven by the belief that structure can elevate an experience, not restrict it. Whether you’re refining a UX flow, arranging a gallery-like Instagram feed, or building a Notion workspace, you’re always chasing that balance between clarity and beauty. For you, every detail is a choice, and every choice is intentional—because design isn’t just your work, it’s the lens through which you navigate the world.

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚

Intentional structure is the best way to describe the way I think—selective, deliberate, and rooted in order. From my work processes to my personal routines, planning, and communication, there’s always a framework behind the scenes. My life is deeply embedded in my Google Calendar and Outlook; I breathe through schedule and organization because it gives me calm, grounding, and a sense of certainty. Part of that comes from a fear of forgetting—but also from the peace that comes with knowing everything has its place.

As a product designer who works in design systems, this identity runs through my veins. I can’t help but observe structure everywhere I go—how things flow, how people move, how efficiency shows up (or doesn’t) in the world around me. Order isn’t restricting to me; it’s fascinating, almost artistic.

I’ve always been a collector and creator of thoughts: taking notes, capturing ideas, cataloging inspiration. My Notion system is a little messier now than in the past, but I spread my thoughts across notebooks, my phone, and digital tools in a way that still feels intentional. Even curating playlists has become a hobby—selecting songs to match moods, moments, and atmospheres.

It’s all part of the same thread: structure not as rigidity, but as a personalized architecture of thought, creativity, and comfort.

2. The Reflective Writer

You process life through words.

• Journaling

• Personal essays / Substack-style writing

• Caption writing & quiet storytelling

• Self-reflection + goal mapping

The Reflective Writer moves through life with an inner narrator. For you, writing isn’t just expression—it’s how you make sense of the world and your place in it. Your thoughts gather clarity when they hit the page, transforming emotions into insight and everyday moments into meaning. Whether you’re crafting a soft, thoughtful caption, mapping out your next chapter, or pouring honesty into a late-night journal entry, your words become a mirror. And through them, you continuously rediscover yourself.

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚

Writing means something different to everyone. For some, it’s a ritual or a habit. For me, it’s rooted in emotion and voice. I’ve never been the type to journal religiously, but when I do sit down to write, I never regret it. I used to feel guilty about not being disciplined enough to write every day, until I realized that my relationship with writing doesn’t need to follow someone else’s rules. It’s okay that I write when I feel moved to—not on command.

Even with Substack as my digital outlet, I still gravitate toward pen and paper when I can. I’ve learned to always keep a notebook in my bag so I can capture thoughts in the moment. And while writing helps me process, clarity often comes through communication and conversation—I learn just as much by speaking my thoughts as I do by writing them.

3. The Cultural Observer

You notice details others miss.

• Film & TV analysis

• Architecture, interiors, fashion

• Traveling cities & neighborhoods

• People-watching, atmospheres, moods

The Cultural Observer experiences the world with a heightened awareness—always interpreting, absorbing, and connecting dots. You move through spaces with curiosity, noticing the subtext in a scene, the intention behind a building’s lines, or the way a city’s energy shifts from one block to the next. Your fascination isn’t just with aesthetics, but with what they reveal about people, values, and time. You study culture not to critique it, but to understand it—and in doing so, you deepen your appreciation for the humanity woven into everyday life.

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚

I have always been the quieter one in my friend group—the observer. I notice people’s facial expressions, body language, and comfort levels. Perhaps it’s my way of reading people, understanding how they truly feel. The Libra in me wants to make sure those around me are genuine, comfortable, and trustworthy. The word performative became louder with the immense influence of social media, sharpening my ability to observe when meeting new people around the world.

Film and TV continue to play a major role in my life. In another life, I would have loved to work in the industry, creating and analyzing stories. I’m also drawn to architecture, interiors, and fashion, and I love exploring cities and neighborhoods. People-watching, absorbing atmospheres, noticing moods—these are my favorite things, and they always make me happy.

4. The Mind–Body Aligner

You move to feel grounded, not punished.

• Pilates

• Strength + cardio

• Golf & tennis

• Walking for clarity

• Creating calming routines

The Mind–Body Aligner sees movement as nourishment—a dialogue between the physical and the emotional. You gravitate toward practices that reconnect you to yourself, choosing routines that strengthen without depleting. Whether you’re flowing through Pilates, focusing on form in the gym, or finding rhythm in a long walk, you treat movement as a reset, not a task. You understand that clarity often comes after motion, and that taking care of your body is inseparable from protecting your peace. For you, wellness isn’t about discipline—it’s about alignment, intention, and staying rooted in your own energy.

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚

Discipline over motivation. This year, I took my fitness more seriously and started working with a coach to find balance in my goals. My aim is to get stronger and more confident in the gym—and strength became one of the highlights of my 2025. I realized just how much stronger I actually am. When you know what you need to do in the gym, it becomes almost an obsession, a joyful addiction. It’s so much fun.

I haven’t been to the gym since November, and I’m already yearning to go back in January—that’s how much I’ve learned to love my capable body and the act of moving it. Pilates was also a big part of this year. In the first six months, I went four times a week, then gradually scaled back to once a week, balancing it with four gym days.

How lucky are we to be healthy and able-bodied? I sleep consistently for eight hours, which leaves my mind sharp, my skin hydrated, and my body feeling alive.

5. The Intentional Lifer

Your “hobbies” are really how you live.

• Cooking & meal planning (dairy-free)

• Creating peaceful spaces

• Deep conversations

• Mastermind participation

• Solo time that feels full

The Intentional Lifer treats everyday choices as expressions of identity. You don’t chase hobbies for the sake of productivity—you build a lifestyle that reflects your values and nourishes your wellbeing. From crafting meals that support your body, to shaping a home that feels like sanctuary, to seeking conversations that feed your mind, you prioritize depth over distraction. Even your solitude has purpose and richness. You move with thoughtfulness, choosing what aligns rather than what impresses. For you, intention isn’t a trend—it’s a philosophy woven into the smallest decisions of your day.

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚

Ever since I moved out at 26, creating a safe space in my home has been a top priority. It’s non-negotiable—no matter the city, my home must feel safe and cozy. Solo time that feels full is essential to me. My friends know how much I value these moments to recharge and replenish. They’ve given me space and clarity to truly understand myself amidst the noise of the outside world.

Being present has also been a major focus. I make it a point to be fully with the people around me—leaving my phone in my bag when I’m with friends.

I’ve always loved 1:1 hangouts because you get to know someone so much more deeply in a short period of time.

The next time someone asks, “So what do you like to do in your free time?” or “Tell me about yourself,” try answering with the essence of who you are—not just a checklist of hobbies. Instead of rattling off activities, speak to the identities and themes that shape you: the curator, the writer, the observer, the aligner, the intentional one. Because hobbies come and go, but the core of who you are—the way you move through the world—tells the real story.

Grateful you’re here—see you in the next note.

Continue reading

i moved out at 26, then relocated to miami at 27. time away from my friends and family hits differently now. i feel it more. i notice it more. i treasure it more.

one quiet luxury in my full-time job is that we have multiple global offices. it gives me chances to fly back to vancouver a few times a year—something i don’t take for granted. time with loved ones has grown more important to me in adulthood, maybe because it’s limited. maybe because it’s precious. maybe because i understand now that it’s not guaranteed.

after this asia trip, i felt a pull to stay longer. something in me said: why rush back?
so i asked my boss if i could extend my stay in vancouver. and because i’m lucky to have built a life with flexibility, i could.

why is time so important to me?

because we never know how much of it we have.
it’s not written anywhere. it’s not displayed. there is no countdown.

the real luxury in life isn’t money, status, careers, or things.
it’s time.

i see people around me work day to night; some because they love it, others because they don’t know how to stop. balance feels rare. and on this trip, especially in tokyo, i viewed the city through a different lens: less as a bright-eyed visitor and more like someone imagining a life there.

japan’s work culture is intense—deeply embedded, respected, and normalized. it’s the same across much of asia. i have friends who moved to tokyo and love it, but i knew if i ever lived there, it wouldn’t be in a corporate role. i’m not willing to give my life away to work.

one day i joked to my friend, “i can see myself living here.”
but we both agreed: it would be a day where money is no longer a priority—where we’re stable, free, and don’t need to work.

we stayed on the outskirts this time, in setagaya. quiet mornings. closed shops. small pockets of peace. not the nonstop pulse of shibuya or shinjuku. for the first time, i saw the city as somewhere i could live only if time was fully mine.

if time were on your side, where would you be right now?

and what’s actually stopping you?

this year i made a commitment to myself: i refuse to get sucked into a work culture that drains me. i’ve focused on protecting my peace. cutting out negative-minded people. spending time alone when i need to. going out when i want to. listening to myself. being with loved ones when i can.

time is interesting—it doesn’t have to be “productive” to be well spent. i could do nothing at home and, if i’m happy, that’s time well spent.

and then there’s health—the one factor that can shorten everything without warning. it’s the reminder that money can’t buy time, no matter how hard we try.

i’m proud that i’ve built a life where i have time.
i have a stable job that doesn’t consume my entire identity.
i have boundaries.
i trust my intuition.
i don’t do things i don’t want to do—and i communicate that clearly.
i turn my moodboards into reality.
i take control of my time.

i have free time to do as i please.

life is too short to live a version of it that doesn’t align with you.
create a life that matches who you are—and who you’re becoming.

because at the end of the day, the richest thing we can ever own is time.

— janice x

Aging doesn’t scare me because I believe your soul can stay young forever. Maybe that perspective comes from my parents. They embody youth not just because of the Asian genes, but in the way they live.

My dad, the ultimate social guy, might have more friends than I do. He eats what he wants, enjoys it without guilt, and his joy radiates—a neurological boost stronger than any “perfect” diet. He’s the epitome of my logical, cool-girl side.

My mom is a bright light. She’s gone through change after change, and in the process, truly found herself. Patient, present, and endlessly loving. She keeps herself young with yoga, nutrition, nature, and her many hobbies—lately it’s gardening. She finds joy in the most ordinary things. I carry her soft, empathetic side with me.

Together, they’ve shaped my mindset that age really is just a number. Everything else depends on how you choose to see the world.

Turning 30 didn’t feel dramatic on the day itself—it felt ordinary. But the lead-up? That was a wave. It nudged me to ask who I want to be, what I want to see, and who I want beside me.

I’m not writing 30 lessons for 30 years—instead, I want to share a handful of mindset shifts that came into focus while we spent the weekend in a little cabin on Vancouver Island.

Every year I get the pleasure of celebrating my birthday close to my Virgo sister, . It feels fitting—Libras and Virgos just get along, and I love that I share this season with her.

This year, instead of something big, we wanted intimacy. The choice was clear: a cabin trip on the island. It felt right—grounding, nostalgic, and a chance to step away from the city.

One of my favorite parts of any trip is hunting for the Airbnb. I could scroll for hours, narrowing down the options—it’s basically a design project in itself. My background in interior design (before product design) makes me love the process even more.

We landed on the perfect house in Halfmoon Bay: tucked in the forest, perched by the water, perfectly quiet.

There’s something about cabins that feels so childlike, like slipping back into comfort and simplicity. They always spark a dream in me: one day, owning a cabin retreat of my own.

Together, we slowed down. We cooked meals side by side, wandered through the forest trails, and played endless rounds of Monopoly Deal. We tried out local brunch spots, browsed the farmers’ market stalls, and picked up little things just because they made us smile.

The best parts weren’t the activities themselves, but the feeling they gave us: conversations that felt grounding, laughter that felt effortless, and the rare gift of being offline and fully present.

I’ve been learning to quiet the voice of external validation, soften negative self-talk, and notice when I’m out of alignment.

The shift is subtle but powerful: think positively, keep learning, stay calm, and trust myself more than the noise around me. Through my 20s, I battled deep scars from seeking validation that chipped away at my self-confidence. I placed my happiness in the hands of my partners—and as my therapist reminded me, that’s a lot of pressure to put on one person, someone who can change or leave at any time. Why would you give away your joy so easily?

At some point, I realized I had forgotten how to be happy on my own. So I did what I knew I needed to do: I took time back for myself. I spent the last few years building my own self-worth and confidence, strengthening the friendship I have with myself. And now? I feel invincible.

I love myself—which allows me to love others even more fully.
I trust myself—which allows me to trust the circle of wonderful humans I have around me.

That growth took time, and I let it. I released the pressure of rushing or following norms because I believe what’s meant for me will be.

Being single at 30 has never felt like a “problem” to solve. I still have so much life to live, and it feels silly to pause my journey waiting for someone else to show up.

Another reason I’m happy to be in my 30s is because I have so much more than I did in my 20s. The last five years especially have been an escalation—in my career, in self-love, in getting financially on track, in finding my people, and in building hobbies that bring me joy. I know myself so much better now.

In my 20s, everything felt like a test. We said yes to everything, tried it all, stumbled through trial and error. In my 30s, there’s balance. Saying no comes easily when something doesn’t align. Peer pressure? We don’t know her.

Your 30s make you ruthless about who you keep close.

I feel lucky to have the best support system in my friends and family. At the same time, I’ve built the ability to walk away from relationships that don’t serve me—because I love myself too much not to. It’s not about having everyone, it’s about having the right people.

Movement, laughter, joy. That’s how I’ve shaped my life to be.

I want to keep my body in motion, keep choosing happiness, and keep reminding myself that life is only as serious as I make it. The best part of growing older? I still get to be excited about what’s ahead.

I’ve built a life I don’t feel the need to escape. I’ve found a balance between work and life that feels sustainable. Could I have more? Sure, but that’s the beauty of planning the next move. Sometimes nerves and excitement feel the same, and I’m learning to embrace both.

Committing to movement, cooking at home, keeping my finances in order, and being intentional with what I own (the opposite of a hoarder) has truly changed my life. These are practices I can take with me wherever I go.

And when hiccups happen—because they always do—I know who I am. I’ll own up when I’m wrong, learn from it, and move forward. If a relationship doesn’t align, I now have the courage to step away without guilt. That clarity is one of the greatest gifts of this new decade.

Time is money, but it’s also energy and peace.

I’m learning to control what I can, let go of what I can’t, and pour myself into building a life I don’t need to escape from.

That’s how I welcomed thirty—not with a giant party or a list of lessons, but with quiet, reflection, and the people who matter. The decade ahead feels lighter, calmer, and somehow fuller. And I’m ready for it.

Grateful you’re here—see you in the next note.

Weekend snapshots

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My constant battle is between more and less.

But lately, I’ve realized more isn’t the answer.

I’m happier when I’m not chronically online.

(Substack doesn’t count but I still try to limit)

I love not knowing what’s going on in Instagram land.

I love the updates that come through texts, voice notes, real conversations.

The people closest to me are the ones I talk to every day anyway.

Less...

Work.

Why do we overwork ourselves?

Who decided burnout was a badge of honor?

It’s not sexy.

Let’s stop romanticizing the grind.

Let’s stop confusing productivity with self-worth.

Now there’s a surge of content on how to slow down.

It’s almost ironic we need tutorials on rest.

Our bodies are screaming. Our minds are tired.

So many women I know–friends, acquaintances, strangers on the internet are dealing with health issues.

Hormonal. Emotional. Physical. Chronic.

It makes you ask:

What are we actually doing all this for?

Is it worth the mental strain?

Who are we trying to prove something to?

Success. Fulfillment.

These words echo in my mind lately.

What actually defines success in my life?

Do I feel fulfilled?

It’s not likes, followers, salary, or status.

It’s alignment. Peace. Energy.

Feeling grounded in who I am.

Not feeding into the need of more.

Abundance.

This is the journey I’m on this year, and especially the next.

Comparison.

Social media convinces me I need to do more.

Workout more.

Eat cleaner.

Read more. Travel more. Create more. Hustle more.

Be more.

It clouds me.

It makes me forget I can just be.

The ADHD version of me is finally leaning into “less.”

Still doing what feels good–but at my own pace.

Comparison is the thief of joy. (Thanks for the reminder )

Notably:

Less time online = more happiness.

But I still struggle with balance.

I’m either in a scroll spiral for weeks… or cold turkey.

Right now, I’m cold turkey. And I always feel better here.

I log in when I want to post.

When I feel inspired to create.

But even then I ask myself:

Who am I posting for?

Post with intention.

When you’re not overthinking.

I’m not an influencer. I’m not a celebrity.

Why do I feel the need to share?

Is social media the only way to reach my goals?

No.

There’s word of mouth.

Real conversations.

People. Community.

You know who I admire?

Chronically offline people.

People like Cillian Murphy, who have no idea what’s trending.

They’re living. Present. Selective with what fills their minds.

I want to be like that.

To nourish my brain–not clutter it.

Maybe that’s why I don’t count Substack as social media.

It’s slower. More intentional.

It feels like a community, not a performance.

I feel heard. I feel safe. I feel inspired.

And don’t get me wrong–I still love my favorite comedians on YouTube and Spotify podcasts (Smartless, Good Hang with Amy Poehler, Theo Von).

Plus, I’m a notorious film and show watcher.

Private and present.

I love people who live in the moment.

When I’m with friends, I barely touch my phone.

But when I’m alone, it’s the first thing I reach for.

I love staying connected. I love laughing at videos.

But I don’t want to be reliant on any of it.

One day, I want to be fully off social.

It started with deleting Snapchat.

Then TikTok, over a year ago.

Now I use Opal to block the scroll traps: Instagram, YouTube… sometimes even Substack.

The apps aren’t evil but the design is addictive.

Now, I want to freelance again to help businesses build beautiful design systems and seamless applications.

Social media does help me reach those people.

So am I back to square one?

told me to treat that account like a creative business.

Create with no pressure.

Use it to reach the right people.

To show my range.

And like my mom always says: I’m the creator of my own life.

Today, I choose less.

Less noise.

Less pressure.

Less pretending.

Because maybe more isn’t the answer.

Maybe it never was.

Time to work on rewiring from the capitalist mindset.

From equating value with output.

From believing rest is earned, not essential.

From measuring self-worth by productivity.

What about you?

Do you believe in doing more or less?

Being online or offline?

Do you consume more than you create?

Anyways welcome to my raw thoughts on a friday night as i’m sipping tea with my cat hugo behind me while watching Alien Convenant :)

Cheers xx

I wanted to share some raw moments and thoughts from the first 40 pages. Parts that spoke to me, that I underlined, and that are still echoing in my mind.

Welcome to my open reflection.

Doting back to my first post on Substack, I shared my recent experience in rebuilding self-love because, at the time, that’s what I needed most.

But now that we’ve laid that foundation… what’s next?

Where does that leave us when love of self meets the desire to connect with others?

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Three years ago, I left a secure, comfortable life. One surrounded by a loving family and the most incredible group of friends. I challenged myself to grow in a new city and expand my career.

I wanted discomfort. I wanted change. I wanted promotions. And I got it.

I was talking to my mom today about how I’ve been feeling (hormones heightening everything, of course), and I realized every year of this chapter has been completely different.

If I zoom in on just this city, each year here has marked a transformation…in pace, in people, in perspective.

Year one was full of yeses.

Yes to new experiences, yes to new people, yes to every invite, every event, every version of who I could be. But somewhere along the way, I got caught up in the noise. Too much of my energy was tied to external substance (mostly alcohol) and it started making me question who I was becoming. I didn’t like the dissonance. That fear of misalignment pulled me out.

Year two was quieter.

More intention, more discernment. I started choosing who I wanted to spend my time with and how. I still met new people, but I also let go of many friendships–kindly, sometimes quietly, but necessarily.

Now, in year three, my circle is small.

I’ve let go of even more–not because of drama or conflict, but because we were growing in different directions. Some of my closest friendships moved away. And yet, not once have I felt lonely.

It’s not loneliness because I built a deep sense of self-understanding and love, and I genuinely enjoy my own company.

But what I do feel is a quiet absence of deep-rooted connection. The kind where someone truly gets you, sees you, and meets you where you are. Sure, I could probably meet more people if I went out more often, but if I’m being honest, I feel like I’ve already experienced the full flavor of this city. It’s vibrant, colorful, and alive but for who I am today, it’s just not my cup of tea anymore.

I’ve simply outgrown the city.

Which, honestly, feels completely okay because I’ve done what I came here to do. I’ve grown, stretched, and experienced more than I ever expected. Letting go of what no longer fits has only created space for what’s next. And through it all, I’m deeply grateful for the few close connections I still have here… and for the strong, grounding friendships that I already have back home.

Even in moments where I feel that slight shift, the lack of connection, I remind myself I’ll get through it. This feeling isn’t tied to just one place; it can surface in any city, at any stage. And more importantly, it always passes. That’s why part of this journey is not just learning, but unlearning loneliness too.

Knowing that solitude doesn’t have to mean emptiness. It can mean peace, clarity, and space to grow.

The psychology of being alone

Natasha Lunn begins softly by opening with how do we find love?

“People fall into the trap of seeing romantic love as the answer of their problems. How does that misunderstanding make the search for a relationship more difficult?”

Let me tell you–in most cases, it will fail. Unless your partner is secure and patient, and you’re also growing and evolving into an equally secure person, the relationship struggles to thrive.

I spent most of my twenties drifting through relationships, holding onto them as my main source of happiness and stability. Looking back, I didn’t even realize the expectations I instinctively placed on my partners because I was so dependent on them for my emotional well-being. Sure, I had my own life, friends, and hobbies but when it came to emotional maturity, I wasn’t nearly as grounded as I am now.

I stopped dating for the last three years and took down the pedestal I had placed on romantic relationships–and that shift was a total game changer. Suddenly, every other area of my life began to flourish because I had the time and energy to pour back into myself.

Without the distraction of searching for validation or emotional safety from someone else, I could focus on my own growth, my passions, and my sense of self-worth. It was in that space of self-investment that I started to understand what real, healthy love could look like…not as a rescue, but as a partnership between two whole people.

The problem is not being alone

“The problem is not being alone. It’s being alone when you have a story in your head about human beings, and the proper place of companionship without out story…you could change the story in your head about what being alone means.”

At the beginning of my journey to unlearn loneliness, I felt a real discomfort staying in on the weekends. I was wired to believe that a packed schedule meant you weren’t a “loner”–that being busy equaled being wanted, being okay.

Then I’d scroll through social media and see everyone out doing things, and I’d second-guess myself. (And trust me, my girls have heard this before.) I’d ask, “Should I be putting myself out there more?”

They told me, “Everyone’s idea of fun is different.” And it stuck with me.

Fun doesn’t have to look like packed weekends, rooftop parties, or constant social plans. For me, these days, fun might mean reading in bed, grocery shopping with a playlist on, going to the gym, or deep cleaning my space while FaceTiming a friend. It’s slow, quiet, and deeply fulfilling…because it’s mine.

Don’t get me wrong! I love those fun, social weekends, and I’m excited for the ones I have planned. But it’s definitely not something I crave every weekend anymore.

My calendar is way less full than it used to be, and that’s how I knew I was growing. These days, I can easily spend an entire weekend in my own company and genuinely enjoy it. No pressure to be anywhere. No need to explain why I’m not “out.” Just me, doing whatever fills my cup.

If I’m meant to have a partner one day, maybe even a family, then I want to fully embrace the time I have now. This rare chapter of being completely on my own. Because one day, I might look back and miss it.

“If you don’t value or understand yourself, is there more risk you could lose yourself in a relationship?”

Absolutely. I’ve seen it happen, both in people I love and in my own past. Losing yourself in a relationship doesn’t always happen all at once. Sometimes it looks like slowly bending more than you should, compromising too much, or silencing your needs just to keep the peace. It’s when there’s no longer a meeting in the middle–just you stretching yourself thin.

Over time, it becomes more and more obvious. Have you ever noticed how some people become closed off or distant when they’re in a relationship, but once they’re single again, they suddenly need you more than ever? That shift is often a symptom of losing themselves in the relationship. Emotionally over-investing, people-pleasing, trying to avoid abandonment, or quietly wrestling with the fear of not being enough.

I have been there and I am done with that. Shoutout to everyone by my side during those times.

These aren’t flaws, they’re deeply rooted patterns, often tied to our upbringing or early experiences. And while they’re valid, they can become recurring challenges in our relationships if we’re not aware of them.

There is a healthier way forward. But it takes time, first to recognize the pattern, then to do the deeper work to change it. Speaking about it is the start, but choosing to show up for yourself every day, even when it’s uncomfortable, that’s the hard part.

So the real question becomes: How badly do you want to break this pattern?

Not being good enough.

Lunn writes, “After four years of interviewing people about love, [she] had discovered how many of us share a secret fear of not being good enough.”

I hear this all the time. In different words, different tones, but the same fear, echoed again and again.

It’s been a recurring theme in my own therapy sessions. It’s something I’ve unpacked in late-night conversations with friends and even with my mom. That deep-rooted fear of not measuring up, of not being lovable as you are, is so common…yet so quietly carried.

We rarely say it out loud. But it shows up in how we overthink a text, in how we stay in situations that don’t serve us, in how we chase validation, or shrink ourselves just to feel accepted.

We are all chasing a deeper connection not just love.

The fear doesn’t make us weak it makes us human. But it’s also something we can unlearn, gently and gradually, by choosing to see ourselves through a more compassionate lens.

It’s crazy to think that there was a time I truly believed I wasn’t good enough. That I had to earn love. Prove myself. Shrink, adjust, perform.

But not anymore.

Now, I know I’m good enough, not in a loud, performative way, but in a quiet, grounded way. And because of that, I won’t settle for less than I deserve. That belief didn’t come overnight. It came through years of reflection, honesty, healing, and showing up for myself when no one else could.

And when you start living from that place, where you genuinely believe you’re enough. Everything changes.

I’ve created a space in my life where I can confidently decline what doesn’t align with me, without guilt. I’ve learned to reclaim my time and energy, and redirect it toward the people, experiences, and habits that help me grow.

Because at the end of the day, you have to enjoy your own company.You’re the one person you’re guaranteed to have for life.

xx Janice

It stuck with me.

So now I’m taking the time to unpack it, to sit with it, and reflect on what that actually means for me.

First off, I’m an only child. No siblings, no shared attention. Growing up, life was mostly about me, myself, and I. Not in an arrogant or selfish way, but naturally, I became the center of my parents' focus. That meant I thought about myself a lot–my needs, my feelings, my little world.

With that being said, my friends have become a huge part of who I am today.

Almost all of them have siblings. And I’ve always been endlessly curious about what that was like–how families interact, how siblings show up for (or clash with) one another. Sharing? What’s that like? Taking turns? Being generous? Practicing empathy? These things weren’t second nature to me–they had to be learned, observed, tried on.

We’ve all been told to think highly of ourselves. To put ourselves first. To know our worth. And yes, all of that matters. But that’s not what thinking of yourself less is about.

When I picture someone who lives this way, a few qualities stand out.

Humility means not needing to be the loudest in the room or the one who gets the credit. It’s a quiet confidence that doesn’t depend on validation to feel worthy.

Generosity goes beyond just giving things–it’s about offering your time, attention, and energy without expecting anything in return, simply because you can.

Presence is being fully here, rather than stuck in your own thoughts or story. It means listening to understand instead of just waiting to respond, and noticing what’s happening around you instead of being consumed by what’s inside.

And Connection is the ability to truly see others, to make space for them, and to relate without falling into comparison.

Thinking of yourself less doesn’t mean making yourself small. It means softening the constant self-focus so you can show up more fully–for others, and maybe even more honestly, for yourself.

As I’m entering my 30s, I’ve noticed that the people closest to me all embody these qualities—humility, generosity, presence, and connection—because they reflect parts of myself I’ve worked to nurture. The people we surround ourselves with often mirror who we are or who we’re becoming. Their values, energy, and ways of being serve as both a reflection and a reminder of what matters most to us. In that sense, choosing to be around those who think beyond themselves encourages me to do the same, helping me grow into a better version of myself every day.

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I often find myself caught in cycles of self-focus for several reasons.

I realize that fear of judgment makes me hyper-aware of how others perceive me, leading me to overthink and second-guess my every move. Social media only intensifies this, as I constantly compare myself to others, which can leave me feeling inadequate or less than.

It took me years to work through my relationship traumas, and what truly helped–though it didn’t happen overnight–was building a stronger trust and love for who I am today. Reading books like How to Do the Work by Dr. Nicole LePera played a big role in the beginning of this process, guiding me to understand my patterns and how to heal them. And of course, I’m incredibly grateful to have a long-term therapist who truly cares and puts in the work for her humans.

How I choose to show up in this world matters—to myself, my cat (as her caretaker), my friends, family, colleagues, and even strangers. Once I started putting in the work to become the person I always wanted to be, my grip on comparison naturally lessened. I’m genuinely happy for others and it’s wonderful that we have the ability to share the best parts of ourselves. How much you want to share and consume is completely within your control. And know that real life is not in your phone or any device. It’s right where you are.

I also tend to over-personalize situations. Beneath much of this, I see that insecurity often masquerades as self-obsession, where what seems like confidence is actually a defense against feeling vulnerable, craving validation, and struggling with body dysmorphia. All of these factors combine to trap me in a loop where thinking about myself becomes not just frequent, but overwhelming.

Breaking free from this pattern starts with awareness. When I notice my thoughts spiraling inward, I try to gently remind myself to step back. Practicing mindfulness helps me stay grounded in the present moment, shifting my focus from internal chatter to the world around me. Cultivating curiosity about others by asking questions and listening deeply redirects my attention outward and fosters connection. Finally, embracing imperfection and self-compassion reduces my need for constant self-scrutiny, making space for a kinder, quieter relationship with myself.

How to practice thinking about yourself less:

Be curious about others. Ask thoughtful questions. Listen with intent. The more curious you are about someone else’s world, the less time you spend trapped in your own.

Detach from the outcome. Whether it’s a social situation, a performance, or a presentation, don’t let your worth hinge on how you're perceived. Focus on the task or the purpose, not your ego.

Serve. Acts of service, even small ones, snap you out of self-focus. Kindness redirects your energy outward.

Practice presence. Anxiety and self-consciousness live in the future or past. Being fully present (through breath, mindfulness, or embodiment) quiets the "me" voice.

Redefine confidence. True confidence isn’t loud or self-absorbed, it’s grounded, quiet, and generous. It trusts that you’re enough without needing to make it about you.

At the heart of this journey is the art of thinking of yourself less. When we soften the constant self-focus, we open ourselves up to what truly matters, the people, moments, and experiences happening all around us. There is so much more going on in the world than our own inner dialogue, and when we tune into that, life becomes richer and more connected.

With love,

Janice Fong

Moving to a new city and making friends can feel intimidating, but it’s also an exciting chance to build your social circle with intention. I moved to a new city at 27—later than many of my friends who went to university abroad—and for a while, I felt like I had missed out. But what I’ve realized is that moving later in life gives you the unique opportunity to be selective about who you spend your time with. Your time and energy are valuable, so don’t sell yourself short. Invest in connections that truly add to your life.

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Career/Work place

Fresh out of school, I landed my first corporate job at a fast-growing tech company during COVID—a lucky break after cold applying to 50+ places with no luck. Funny enough, the opportunity came when the lead HR reached out to me on LinkedIn. After my first formal interview, I got the job.

Two years later, I was offered a role at the Miami head office to standardize design across our portfolio. Fresh out of a relationship, I flew to Miami for the first time and was instantly starstruck. The city felt so alive compared to Vancouver, with endless activities, new faces, and a vibrant office culture. (No shade to Vancouver—I’m always grateful when I visit, but Miami’s weather is unbeatable.)

Thanks to my company, I had a head start on connections, but starting fresh in Miami still felt like a daunting transition. After my first visit, I flew back three more times over six months before officially making the move. Each stay introduced me to more people, and coincidentally, I had already met one of my now best friends in Miami. She welcomed me into her circle, making the city feel more like home.

During this time, I also met a guy who unexpectedly showed me a different side of Miami—the non-party, laid-back lifestyle. Staying with him on the beach side reassured me that a slower, more wholesome way of life existed here. Although things didn’t work out between us, I’ll always be grateful to him for offering that perspective.

For my remote work peeps…

You WILL need to get out of the house.

In the midst of building new friendships through work, I also wanted to challenge myself to make connections outside of my everyday office circles.

Communities & shared experiences

If you have a dog, take them to the community park. See which dogs your pup vibes with—set up a playdate. You’ll find that people are often open to friendly conversations when you’re genuine.

Tap into local communities. Sign up for workout classes, join the gym, or check out a run club. Explore the group activities happening in your neighborhood—you might be surprised by what you find.

Whether it’s local sports clubs, creative workshops, volunteer opportunities, or hobby groups, immerse yourself in spaces that naturally bring together like-minded people.

Some of the strongest bonds form when you share experiences with others. Take a class (like pottery, pilates, or cooking), join a recreational sports league, or participate in a book club. Being a regular somewhere, like a coffee shop or yoga studio, also increases your chances of meeting people consistently.

I ended up meeting some amazing humans when I joined weekly pottery classes. It was the perfect solo entry activity for an introvert like me. One of the girls I met even moved to New York, and we caught up when I was there for Thanksgiving. Connections can happen in the most unexpected ways. 💛

Be the Initiator

Interestingly, one of the most genuine people I met in Miami found me through my TikTok account. She had seen my videos and reached out to me on Instagram to see if I wanted to hang out! I thought it was so courageous of her to message me, and she told me it was actually the first time she had ever done something like that. She felt my energy and thought we’d get along.

After our first hangout, we clicked instantly and started seeing each other consistently. Over time, we expanded our circle by introducing each other to our own friends, naturally building a supportive and fun community.

Instead of rushing to fill your social calendar, focus on staying true to yourself. Seek out connections that align with your values, not just your schedule. Meaningful friendships come naturally when you prioritize authenticity over urgency.

1. Embrace your selectivity

   Moving at 27 gives you the gift of discernment. You’ve likely learned more about yourself, your values, and what kind of people energize you. Use that knowledge to build deeper connections rather than just collecting acquaintances. Trust your gut and let it guide you toward meaningful friendships.

2. Find communities that match your interests

   Whether it’s through local sports clubs, creative workshops, volunteer opportunities, or hobby groups, immerse yourself in spaces that naturally attract people with similar passions. Apps like Meetup or Bumble BFF can help you discover these groups in your area.

3. Lean Into shared experiences

   Some of the strongest bonds form when you share experiences with others. Take a class (like pottery, pilates, or cooking), join a recreational sports league, or participate in a book club. Being a regular somewhere, like a coffee shop or yoga studio, also increases your chances of meeting people consistently.

4. Be the initiator

   If you meet someone you vibe with, take the initiative to suggest hanging out. It can be as simple as grabbing coffee, attending an event, or exploring a local market together. Many people appreciate when someone else makes the first move in friendship.

5. Smile, make eye contact, and start conversations

   These small actions can go a long way in signaling openness. Whether you’re at a grocery store, gym, or neighborhood park, a friendly demeanor invites connection. Talking to strangers can lead to unexpected friendships.

6. Leverage your existing network

   Let your current friends or colleagues know you’re in a new city. They might connect you with someone they know, giving you a built-in introduction to your new community.

7. Practice patience and self-compassion

   Building friendships takes time, so be kind to yourself during the process. It’s normal to feel lonely or unsure at times. Remind yourself that your energy and presence are valuable, and the right people will appreciate you.

8. Stay open to all ages and backgrounds

   Don’t limit yourself by thinking only about people in the same age bracket. Some of the best friendships come from connecting with people of different life experiences, bringing fresh perspectives and opportunities to learn.