Why Redefining Success Matters More Than Ever
When I first moved to Japan, I thought I had a pretty clear idea of what “success” should look like. Like many of us, I carried the images I grew up with: a good education, a stable job, a house of your own, and a picture-perfect family. It felt like a checklist that everyone around me was silently holding up, a kind of invisible scorecard. And for a while, I believed that following it would naturally lead me to happiness.
But living in Japan—and especially observing daily life as a homemaker here—slowly made me realize something important: the idea of “success” isn’t as universal as we think. What counts as success in one culture doesn’t always fit neatly into another. And sometimes, what society tells you to chase doesn’t match what your heart actually longs for.
Take, for example, the rhythm of everyday life in Japan. From the outside, Japanese society often looks like a place where order, structure, and discipline are highly valued. Trains run on time down to the second. Children learn early on how to work in teams and respect rules. Even grocery stores have this calming sense of order—perfectly lined-up fruits and vegetables, aisles spotless and quiet. It’s easy to assume that people here are also following a kind of “life script” just as neatly. Graduate, find stable employment, get married, buy a house, raise children, retire.
But the more I talked with people, the more I noticed cracks in that story. I met mothers who had left their careers behind but found joy in building vibrant community circles. I met men who walked away from corporate jobs to start tiny ramen shops, not for fame or fortune, but simply because they loved the craft. And I even met retirees who said their happiest years began only after they stopped working, when they finally had time to travel or pick up a new hobby.
These moments opened my eyes. Success wasn’t only about the career ladder, the bank account, or the resume. Success, for many of these people, was about something deeper—contentment, balance, meaningful connections, and the courage to live a life aligned with personal values.
Of course, I didn’t come to this realization overnight. Like many of us, I struggled. In my first years in Japan, I often felt insecure when someone asked me what I did. Saying “I’m a homemaker” didn’t sound impressive. It wasn’t the “shiny” answer I thought people were expecting. I would catch myself comparing my life to friends who had glamorous careers abroad, or to those who seemed to “have it all.” That quiet voice inside kept whispering: Am I successful enough?
But then, I started to notice the richness in my everyday life here—the morning walks to the local market, the small chats with neighbors, the slow rituals of preparing seasonal meals. These weren’t things you could put on a resume, but they brought a sense of calm and fulfillment I had never felt before. Slowly, I began to unlearn the rigid version of success I had carried for so long.
And that’s what this story is really about: redefining what success means in a way that actually fits who you are and the life you want. In Japan, I’ve seen countless examples of people quietly rewriting their own definitions, and the ripple effect is huge. It changes their relationships, their mental well-being, and even how they contribute to society.
In this series, I want to share real-life stories—my own and others’—about how people here in Japan are thriving beyond the conventional definition of success. Maybe some of these stories will resonate with you. Maybe they’ll inspire you to question whether the version of success you’re chasing is truly your own—or just borrowed from the expectations of others.
Because here’s the truth: no matter where we live, success isn’t a one-size-fits-all story. It’s something deeply personal, ever-evolving, and worth redefining.
So let’s start this journey together.
Stories from Real Life in Japan
After realizing that my old idea of success didn’t fit my life in Japan, I started paying attention to the people around me—and what struck me most was how diverse “thriving” could look. The first story that really opened my eyes was from my neighbor, Yumi. She’s in her mid-40s, a single mother, and has been living in our neighborhood for over a decade. When I first met her, I assumed she would be stressed out, juggling work and raising a child alone. But instead, she seemed remarkably calm and content.
One afternoon, while we were chatting over tea, she shared something that surprised me. After years in a demanding corporate job, she decided to quit. The salary was good, and her resume looked impressive, but the job drained her energy. She realized she wanted time to engage with her child, her community, and herself. Today, she runs a small handmade craft business from home. The profits aren’t massive, but she is deeply fulfilled. She described the joy of seeing people appreciate her work, the little moments of teaching her child about life, and the freedom to plan her days. Her success wasn’t in the number of zeros in her bank account—it was in her autonomy and meaningful daily life.
Then there’s Hiroshi, a retired man I met at a local park. In his 60s, he used to work in a high-pressure corporate role, climbing the ladder for decades. Yet when I asked him about his happiest memories, he didn’t mention promotions or bonuses. Instead, he spoke about starting to paint in his retirement, joining a hiking club, and volunteering at a local library. He said those experiences made him feel alive in ways his office never could. For Hiroshi, the conventional markers of success were replaced by personal enrichment and connection.
Even within my own household, I began to see small shifts that challenged old definitions of achievement. I used to measure my worth as a homemaker by efficiency—how perfectly the house was organized, how well meals were prepared, how smoothly the day went. But over time, I started noticing the small joys: a neighbor waving hello, my children laughing over dinner, or a quiet morning walk in the autumn breeze. These weren’t things that could be quantified, but they brought a richness I hadn’t anticipated. I realized that fulfillment isn’t always about achievement in the conventional sense—it’s about presence, relationships, and authenticity.
What struck me most in Japan is how subtle cultural norms influence these shifts. There’s a strong sense of community here, even in urban areas, and people take small but meaningful steps to connect with each other. Volunteer groups, neighborhood events, local markets, and shared hobbies create spaces where people can redefine success in ways that feel intimate and personal. For example, I joined a local cooking circle, which led to deep friendships with women of all ages. Some are retired, some are stay-at-home mothers, and some still work part-time jobs—but all of them have a quiet sense of pride in their contributions, whether it’s teaching a recipe, organizing an event, or simply being there for each other. These daily acts, though small, become measures of personal success and happiness.
Another insight I gained is how Japanese society subtly rewards perseverance and long-term dedication—but not always in ways we expect. People often value consistency, care, and commitment over flashy accomplishments. This allows for a broader interpretation of success. A woman who spends decades cultivating a beautiful garden, or a man who quietly mentors children at the local dojo, might not appear “successful” by conventional standards—but their lives are rich with meaning, respect, and satisfaction.
Through these observations, I started experimenting with my own life. I tried reducing the pressure I put on myself to achieve “more” in the external sense and began prioritizing what felt truly valuable to me. I devoted time to simple routines, nurturing relationships, and exploring hobbies I had long neglected. I realized that these small, deliberate choices could accumulate into a profound sense of fulfillment.
What’s common across these stories is courage—the courage to step away from conventional expectations, to listen to oneself, and to define success on personal terms. These aren’t grand gestures or dramatic transformations. Often, they are quiet decisions made day by day: choosing passion over prestige, balance over status, authenticity over appearance. Yet their impact is enormous, not only on individual well-being but also on families, communities, and careers.
By seeing these real-life examples, I began to understand a fundamental truth: success is deeply personal, and fulfillment rarely looks the same for two people. In Japan, a country often associated with discipline, structure, and conformity, I found that thriving beyond the conventional was possible—and it was happening all around me, quietly and beautifully.
The next step in this journey, which I’ll explore in the following section, is how to start your own unlearning process—how to question the inherited definitions of success and create one that fits your values, your lifestyle, and your aspirations. It’s one thing to admire other people’s courage; it’s another to take that first step for yourself.
The Turning Point
If the first step of this journey was realizing that success doesn’t have to follow a single script, the next step was far harder: actually letting go of the old script. Unlearning, I discovered, isn’t as simple as waking up one day and deciding to live differently. It’s a slow, sometimes uncomfortable process, filled with doubts, comparisons, and moments of fear.
I remember one vivid example. A few years ago, I attended a school event where parents were asked to introduce themselves and talk about their work. One by one, mothers and fathers stood up: a doctor, a lawyer, an engineer at a global company, a professor. When it was my turn, I simply said, “I’m a homemaker.” The room was polite, but inside me, a storm raged. I could almost hear the old voice: That’s not impressive enough. You should be doing more.
Walking home that evening, I questioned everything. Was I really thriving, or was I just lowering my standards? Was redefining success simply an excuse for not achieving what society considered “important”? Those thoughts weighed heavily on me, and for a while, I felt stuck between two worlds: the traditional definition I grew up with and the new, quieter one I was slowly building.
This inner conflict is something I’ve noticed in many people around me as well. Take Yumi, my neighbor with the craft business. Even though she loves her work, she sometimes struggles when relatives ask why she gave up a stable corporate job. Or Hiroshi, the retiree who found joy in painting—he admitted that at first, he felt guilty for “wasting time” on hobbies instead of something more “productive.” The shift in mindset doesn’t come without resistance, often from ourselves as much as from others.
And here’s the tricky part: the world around us still largely rewards conventional achievements. Promotions, salaries, degrees—these are tangible, easy to measure, and widely recognized. On the other hand, fulfillment, balance, and inner peace are invisible. They don’t show up on social media, they can’t be neatly summarized on a CV, and they rarely spark admiration in casual conversation. So when we choose to prioritize them, we risk feeling unseen, misunderstood, or even judged.
For me, one of the hardest battles was with comparison. In today’s world, it’s nearly impossible to avoid. Social media feeds are filled with polished images of people climbing mountains (both literally and metaphorically), starting businesses, or “having it all.” Against that backdrop, my simple daily routines—cooking, walking, sharing tea with a neighbor—felt painfully small. I often asked myself: Am I just fooling myself into thinking this is enough?
It was during one particularly restless evening that I realized something important: redefining success isn’t about shrinking your life to fit into a smaller box. It’s about expanding the definition to include what truly matters to you. For some people, that does mean building a big career or achieving something public. For others, it means cultivating meaningful connections, creating art, raising children, or living slowly. Both paths require effort, courage, and clarity. Both are valid. The danger is when we blindly follow a path that doesn’t resonate with us, simply because we fear stepping away from the norm.
Unlearning, I realized, is like peeling layers off an onion. First, you shed the obvious beliefs: the idea that money alone equals happiness, or that a job title defines your worth. But then you reach deeper layers: subtle comparisons, hidden fears of judgment, and the longing for external validation. Each layer requires patience and honesty to peel back. And sometimes, the tears come too.
But here’s where the turning point begins: the more you practice unlearning, the lighter you feel. I started small. Instead of worrying about how others would perceive me, I focused on what gave me energy in the moment. I let myself enjoy slow mornings without guilt. I gave myself permission to invest time in writing, even though it wasn’t “productive” in a conventional sense. I celebrated little victories, like finishing a book or helping a friend through a tough week.
Slowly, I noticed that my relationships improved. I was more present with my family, less anxious around others, and more authentic in conversations. And ironically, people seemed to appreciate me more when I wasn’t trying so hard to meet invisible standards. That ripple effect—on family, friendships, even community—became proof that my redefined version of success had real value, even if it wasn’t as visible as a job promotion or a fancy title.
This doesn’t mean the struggle disappeared. There are still moments when I compare, doubt, or feel pressured. But now I see those moments not as failures, but as reminders that unlearning is an ongoing journey. The old script doesn’t vanish overnight—it lingers, and sometimes whispers. But each time I choose to act in alignment with my own values, I strengthen a new script, one that feels more genuine.
And maybe that’s the heart of it: thriving beyond the conventional isn’t about rejecting society completely or pretending we’re above its expectations. It’s about balancing. It’s about knowing the rules, understanding the pressures, and then consciously deciding which ones to accept and which ones to rewrite. That’s where the real freedom begins.
In the next section, I want to talk about that freedom—the possibilities that open up when we dare to redefine success, and how each of us can start creating a personal definition that feels both fulfilling and sustainable. Because ultimately, this isn’t just about surviving outside the conventional box—it’s about thriving in a life that finally feels like our own.
Redefining Success for Yourself
Looking back on this journey—from questioning traditional success, to observing real-life stories, to wrestling with my own doubts—I’ve come to realize one powerful truth: success isn’t something society hands us. It’s something we define for ourselves, day by day, choice by choice.
That realization has changed not only how I live, but also how I see others. When I meet people now, I no longer immediately measure them by their job titles, salaries, or achievements. Instead, I listen for the spark in their voice when they talk about what they love. I notice the light in their eyes when they describe a hobby, a relationship, or a dream. Those sparks, I’ve learned, are the real markers of success.
And yet, redefining success doesn’t mean rejecting ambition or giving up on growth. It simply means aligning your efforts with what genuinely matters to you. If your heart beats faster when you talk about building a business, then go for it. If you feel most alive when you’re creating art, nurturing a family, or exploring the world, then let that be your compass. What matters is that the definition comes from within—not from the silent pressure of comparison or the heavy weight of expectation.
One of the biggest shifts for me was learning to celebrate the “small wins.” Before, I thought success needed to be dramatic—something visible, big enough to impress others. But I’ve found that the little choices we make each day are what add up to a deeply fulfilling life. Choosing to rest when you’re tired instead of pushing through. Choosing to spend time with loved ones instead of chasing endless productivity. Choosing to say “no” when something doesn’t align with your values. Each of these choices might seem small, but together they create a life that feels intentional and authentic.
For anyone reading this, wondering how to begin your own journey of unlearning and redefining success, here are a few gentle suggestions:
- Pause and reflect. Ask yourself: What does success mean to me, right now, in this season of my life? It doesn’t have to be the same as it was five years ago, and it doesn’t have to match anyone else’s definition.
- Notice your sparks. Pay attention to the moments when you feel alive—whether it’s cooking, writing, playing with your children, working on a project, or even sitting in quiet. Those sparks often point you toward your true definition of success.
- Take small steps. Redefining success isn’t about flipping your life upside down overnight. Start with one small action—saying “yes” to something that feels meaningful, or “no” to something that doesn’t. Over time, those steps create momentum.
- Build your circle. Surround yourself with people who support your personal definition of success, even if it looks unconventional. Having a community that validates your choices makes the journey easier and more joyful.
- Allow change. Remember that your definition of success can (and should) evolve. What fulfills you in your 20s may not be the same in your 40s or 60s. Redefining success is a lifelong process, not a one-time event.
The beauty of this approach is that it ripples outward. When you redefine success for yourself, you give permission for others to do the same. Your children, friends, and community start to see that there are many ways to thrive, not just the conventional ones. In that way, your personal journey becomes part of a much bigger shift toward authenticity and well-being.
For me, this journey is ongoing. There are still days when I hear the old voices whispering: You should be doing more. You should be achieving more. But now I know how to respond. I remind myself that success isn’t about chasing approval—it’s about living in alignment with what feels true. And when I live that way, I not only feel lighter, but I also see the positive effects ripple through my family, my friendships, and my own sense of peace.
So here’s my invitation to you: take a deep breath, set aside the checklist, and ask yourself—What truly matters to me? The answer might surprise you. It might even scare you. But it will be yours. And that, more than any title or trophy, is what thriving beyond the conventional really means.
Final Thoughts
Redefining success isn’t about abandoning everything society values. It’s about weaving together the parts that resonate with you and letting go of the rest. It’s about creating a life where your daily choices reflect your deepest values.
For some, success might still look traditional—a thriving career, a big house, financial security. For others, it might look unconventional—slow living, creativity, relationships, or even the courage to rest. Both paths are valid. What matters is that the path you walk is one you’ve chosen for yourself.
So as you move forward, remember: success is not a destination waiting for you at the end of a long road. It’s in the steps you take every day, the values you honor, and the life you quietly build. And in that sense, you’re already on the journey—whether you realize it or not.
Thriving beyond the conventional isn’t about being extraordinary in the world’s eyes. It’s about being authentic in your own. And that is a success worth celebrating.
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