Jen’s Beauty Life

Today, someone I hadn’t heard from in almost ten years messaged me out of the blue.

She said she was scrolling through Instagram when I suddenly crossed her mind.
Ten years ago, she brought a Korean fried chicken franchise to Sydney and opened a few stores.
After that, life got busy for both of us, and we slowly lost touch.

I had always assumed her business was still going well.
But she told me that things became much harder after COVID.
Now she’s preparing to bring a Korean pizza brand to Australia —
but she admitted, quite honestly, that her passion doesn’t feel the same as it once did.

That part stayed with me.

As she was talking, I realised how much I’ve changed too.
These days, I’m not driven by passion in the same way.
I find myself thinking more about stability.

In our twenties and thirties, failing feels different.
You fall, you get back up, and you try again.
There’s time, energy, and a certain fearlessness that makes it possible.

But after fifty, failure feels heavier.
It’s not just about trying again —
it’s about how long it takes to recover, emotionally and financially.

People talk about living to one hundred these days.
For me, living longer isn’t really the goal.
I want a life that feels meaningful, steady, and quietly satisfying.

Before we ended the conversation, I told her that I believed she would do well.
Not because everything would be easy,
but because she’s already lived through enough to know herself.

After we ended the conversation, I sat with my thoughts for a while.

I didn’t have the right words, and maybe I didn’t need them.
Some encouragements don’t need to be said out loud.

In my mind, I wished her steadiness.
Not the kind of passion that burns too fast,
but the kind that stays —
quiet, grounded, and strong enough to carry her forward.

And I hoped that whatever she chooses next,
it will meet her where she is now,
not who she was ten years ago.