When I first moved to Japan as a young wife, I was constantly surrounded by messages of what I “should” be doing. There seemed to be an invisible checklist for women here: cook balanced meals, keep the house spotless, raise polite children, participate in community events, and somehow always look presentable. At first, I thought I simply had to follow along—after all, everyone around me seemed to be living this way. But over time, I started to feel a quiet discomfort, like I was living according to someone else’s script rather than my own.
This is where the concept of personal values began to matter to me. In Japanese society, where harmony and group belonging are highly valued, it’s easy to lose sight of your own voice. You hear phrases like “meiwaku wo kakenai” (don’t cause trouble for others) and “minna to onaji” (be the same as everyone else) so often that they almost become guiding rules of life. These cultural norms can be beautiful in many ways—they keep communities connected and considerate. But they can also blur the lines of what you personally believe in and what truly matters to your own well-being.
I remember one morning when I was preparing my son’s lunchbox, known as bento in Japan. Other mothers at the kindergarten would create these picture-perfect meals—tiny sausages shaped into octopuses, rice balls decorated with seaweed faces, vegetables arranged like flowers. I tried to keep up, waking up earlier and earlier just to make my bento look more “acceptable.” One day, I realized I was exhausted and cranky before the day even began. That was the moment I asked myself: Why am I doing this? Is it because I believe it makes my child healthier or happier? Or is it simply because I don’t want to feel out of place among the other moms?
That question opened a new door for me—the door of values-based living. Instead of following external expectations, I began to think about what mattered most to me. I asked myself simple questions: Do I value creativity? Do I value health? Do I value time for myself? The answer wasn’t “make the cutest lunchbox in the class.” For me, it was “nourish my family with love and have enough energy to greet them with a smile.” Once I understood that, I stopped comparing myself to others and focused on meals that were healthy, simple, and prepared with care—even if they didn’t look like cartoon characters.
Living in Japan has taught me something powerful: society will always provide a script. It tells you what a “good mother” looks like, what a “good wife” should do, what kind of “life stage” you should be at by a certain age. But your personal values are what help you decide which parts of that script to keep, and which to gently set aside. Without this inner compass, it’s easy to feel lost or overwhelmed by expectations. With it, you can live with more authenticity, even in small, everyday decisions.
In this series, I want to share how identifying and living by your personal values can bring more fulfillment, especially within the unique cultural context of Japan. We’ll explore practical exercises like journaling prompts and visualizations that helped me reconnect with myself. But first, let’s start with the most important question: What truly matters to you?
Discovering Your True Compass
After realizing that I was often living by other people’s standards, I began asking myself a big question: How do I actually figure out what my personal values are? It’s one thing to say, “Live by your values,” but when you’ve spent years—or even decades—adapting to cultural expectations, it can feel almost impossible to know where your beliefs end and society’s script begins.
That’s when I started experimenting with small, practical exercises for self-discovery. I want to share them with you because they don’t require big changes or expensive tools. All they require is a notebook, a pen, and a little honesty with yourself.
1. Journaling Prompts: Writing Without a Filter
Journaling became my first tool for self-reflection. At first, it felt strange—I wasn’t used to writing down my inner thoughts in English or Japanese. But once I gave myself permission to write without worrying about grammar, neat handwriting, or even making sense, I discovered a quiet voice inside me that had been waiting to be heard.
Here are some of the prompts I used:
- What moments in my day make me feel alive or joyful?
- What drains my energy the fastest?
- If I didn’t care what anyone thought, how would I spend my morning tomorrow?
- What do I want my children (or loved ones) to remember about me in the future?
When I answered these questions honestly, patterns started to appear. For example, I noticed how much joy I felt during simple family meals when we laughed together—even if the food was not Instagram-worthy. On the other hand, I realized how drained I felt when I forced myself into long PTA meetings just because “everyone else was going.”
One of the most eye-opening entries was about mornings. If I imagined my ideal morning, it wasn’t about rushing to make a perfect lunchbox—it was about sipping coffee slowly, maybe going for a short walk, and starting the day calmly. That small exercise told me that I valued peace and balance more than performance or competition.
2. The “Ideal Day” Visualization
The second exercise I tried was imagining my ideal day from start to finish. This wasn’t about dreaming of luxury vacations or winning the lottery—it was about picturing a regular day that felt deeply satisfying.
I closed my eyes and thought: What time would I wake up if there were no expectations? What would I eat? Who would I spend time with? How would I move my body? What kind of work or creative activity would I do?
At first, I felt guilty because my imagined day didn’t look like what I thought a “proper Japanese housewife” should be doing. In my vision, I wasn’t ironing shirts for hours or making elaborate dinners. Instead, I saw myself writing in the morning, taking a yoga class, cooking something healthy but simple, and spending unhurried time with my family in the evening.
That exercise made me realize that two of my strongest values were creativity and well-being. Writing gave me a sense of self-expression, and movement gave me energy. I understood then why I always felt a little resentful when my entire day was consumed by chores—I wasn’t feeding the parts of myself that needed creativity and health to feel alive.
3. Small Daily Choices as Value Experiments
Once I identified these values, I started aligning small choices with them. For example:
- Instead of making fancy bento, I focused on meals that were nutritious and easy, which reflected my value of well-being.
- I scheduled just 20 minutes for writing each day, even if it meant the laundry stayed unfolded a little longer—this honored my value of creativity.
- I practiced saying “no” to extra obligations when I knew they would drain me, even if it felt uncomfortable at first.
These weren’t dramatic changes, but they shifted the way I felt about my daily life. Suddenly, I wasn’t just running on autopilot; I was choosing how to spend my time with intention. And even though Japanese culture often emphasizes fitting in, I found that people respected me more when I was clear about my boundaries and priorities.
The Challenge of Doing This in Japan
Now, I won’t pretend this process was easy. Living in Japan, you’re constantly reminded of giri (duty) and seken (what society thinks). There’s an unspoken rule that you should “read the air” (kuuki wo yomu) and act in a way that doesn’t disrupt the harmony of the group.
So when I started saying “no” to certain obligations or prioritizing my own needs, I sometimes felt guilty—like I was being selfish. But here’s what I learned: there’s a difference between selfishness and self-respect. Living by your values doesn’t mean ignoring others; it means showing up as your most authentic self, which often makes your relationships stronger, not weaker.
Why This Matters for All of Us
Whether you live in Japan or elsewhere, it’s easy to get caught up in roles and expectations—what a “good mother,” “good wife,” or “good daughter” should look like. But when you pause and ask yourself those deeper questions, you uncover the values that make you feel alive. And once you begin making even small adjustments to honor those values, life feels more fulfilling, more intentional, and more real.
When Living Authentically Feels Like Swimming Upstr
When I first started aligning my daily choices with my personal values, I felt lighter, more alive, and more in control of my life. But as you might guess, it wasn’t all smooth sailing. In fact, the moment I began saying “no” more often or choosing differently from other moms, I ran into pushback—sometimes subtle, sometimes very direct.
Living authentically in Japan can feel a little like swimming upstream. The current of social expectation is strong, and when you go against it, people notice.
The Bento Incident
One memory that still makes me smile happened at my son’s kindergarten. After I decided to stop competing in the “cute bento Olympics,” I started packing simpler, healthier lunches. One day, another mother looked at my son’s lunch and commented, “Oh, it’s very plain.” She didn’t say it with malice, but the implication was clear: I wasn’t putting in the same effort as others.
At first, her words stung. My old self would have rushed home, searched YouTube for character bento tutorials, and woken up an hour earlier the next day to prove myself. But instead, I reminded myself of my values: health, peace, and connection. My son was happy, well-fed, and didn’t complain. So whose standard was I trying to meet—hers, or mine?
That was the first time I consciously chose to let go of external judgment. It wasn’t easy, but it was liberating.
Community Expectations
Another challenge came with neighborhood and school obligations. In Japan, being part of a jichikai (local community association) or volunteering for school events is almost mandatory. I once said no to helping organize a sports day event because it clashed with my writing time. A fellow mother sighed and said, “Well, some people just don’t like to cooperate.”
Her words hit me hard. In Japanese culture, cooperation isn’t just a nice quality—it’s a moral duty. By refusing, I felt as if I had broken an unspoken rule. I went home that day questioning myself: Am I being selfish? Am I failing my community?
But after some reflection, I realized that cooperation doesn’t have to mean constant self-sacrifice. I could still contribute in smaller ways—baking cookies for a gathering, or offering help when I had the energy—without giving up my personal values. It was about finding balance, not total rejection.
Family Reactions
The hardest part, though, wasn’t outsiders—it was my own family. When I began carving out time for myself to write or attend yoga, my husband initially didn’t understand. He asked, “Why are you spending time on hobbies when the house chores aren’t finished?”
In that moment, guilt washed over me. For years, I had believed that a “good wife” equaled a perfectly clean home and a selfless devotion to family. But deep down, I knew that if I lost my creativity and health, I would lose the joy I brought into our home.
It took many conversations—sometimes uncomfortable ones—before he began to see the difference in me. Slowly, he noticed that when I honored my values, I was more relaxed, more patient, and even more affectionate. That shift in me eventually shifted our relationship too.
The Inner Battle: Guilt vs. Growth
If I’m honest, the hardest critic wasn’t other people—it was myself. Every time I chose my own path, I heard a little voice inside whispering: You’re not doing enough. You’re being lazy. You’re letting people down.
This is the invisible weight of cultural conditioning. Even when no one else is watching, you carry expectations inside you. It’s almost as if society has built a little “judge” who lives in your head.
But over time, I learned to reframe those voices. Instead of asking, Am I disappointing others? I began asking, Am I honoring my values? Am I becoming the kind of person I want my children to see? That mental shift was powerful—it gave me the courage to keep going, even when guilt knocked on the door.
Lessons from the Struggle
Looking back, the resistance I faced was a blessing. It forced me to clarify why my values mattered and to practice standing firm. Here are the three lessons I took away from this stage of the journey:
- People will always have opinions. But their opinions are not your compass. Your values are.
- Boundaries can look selfish at first. Over time, though, they create healthier relationships because you show up as your best self.
- Living authentically takes practice. It’s not about getting it perfect—it’s about realigning every time you drift back into old patterns.
Living with Fulfillment in Japan
When I look back at my journey, I realize that discovering and living by my personal values didn’t just change me—it changed the atmosphere of my entire home. What once felt like a constant balancing act of meeting everyone’s expectations now feels more like a steady rhythm that I can dance to. It’s not perfect, but it’s real. And that authenticity is what brings fulfillment.
Everyday Peace
One of the biggest changes I noticed was in my mornings. Remember how I used to wake up before sunrise, frantically making picture-perfect bento? Now, my mornings look completely different. I wake up, make myself a cup of coffee, and write for 20 minutes before the rest of the house stirs.
My son still gets a healthy lunch, but it’s simple—rice, vegetables, some protein. Nothing fancy. And yet, the atmosphere at the breakfast table is calmer. I’m not snapping at him to hurry up because I’m exhausted from trying to cut seaweed into perfect shapes. Instead, we share a few laughs, and I walk him to school feeling grounded. That shift in mood is worth so much more than any Instagram-worthy lunchbox.
Stronger Relationships
Interestingly, aligning my life with my values didn’t push people away—it drew the right people closer. When I began setting boundaries, I worried I’d lose friendships. But what happened was the opposite. The friends who truly respected me stayed, and our connection deepened. We began having more honest conversations, not just about kids and chores, but about dreams, struggles, and growth.
Even with my husband, things changed. At first, he didn’t understand why I needed “me time.” But as he saw the difference in my energy and mood, he began encouraging it. Sometimes he’ll even take our son out for an afternoon so I can have quiet time to write or recharge. This kind of support didn’t happen overnight—it grew as he saw the positive ripple effect of me living by my values.
A New Definition of Success
Living in Japan, success is often measured by how well you fit the mold: Are you raising polite children? Is your home spotless? Are you contributing to the community? But I’ve learned to redefine success in my own terms.
For me, success looks like this:
- I go to bed at night feeling aligned with how I spent my day.
- I laugh with my family at least once.
- I create something—even a paragraph in my journal—that expresses my thoughts.
- I take one small step that honors my well-being.
By these standards, I succeed more days than not. And that brings a sense of quiet satisfaction I never found in chasing perfection.
What This Means for You
You don’t have to live in Japan to understand the weight of expectations. Wherever you are, society, family, and even your own mind will hand you a script of what you “should” be doing. But here’s the truth: you are allowed to edit that script.
Start small. Grab a notebook and try those journaling prompts. Visualize your ideal day and notice what values shine through. Then, take one tiny step tomorrow to align with those values. It could be as simple as choosing rest over extra chores, or saying “no” to something that drains you.
And when guilt shows up—as it surely will—remind yourself: living by your values isn’t selfish. It’s the most generous thing you can do, because it allows you to show up as your authentic, energized, loving self. That’s the version of you your family and community need most.
Closing Thoughts
Japan has taught me many lessons about harmony, duty, and respect. But the most powerful lesson I’ve learned here is that true harmony begins inside yourself. When you honor your values, you create an inner peace that radiates outward. Your home feels calmer, your relationships deepen, and your days carry more meaning.
So the next time you feel pulled in a hundred directions by expectations, pause and ask: What truly matters to me? That one question might just change everything—because when you live by your values, life stops being a checklist and starts becoming a story you’re proud to tell.
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