Posts by Berry Better

It might sound silly but I’m writing this to myself because I need to hear it out loud from someone, anyone, and maybe that someone has to be me right now. Lately, I think I’ve been carrying so much; so many expectations, so many emotions, so many roles – all at once. I’ve tried to be the understanding one, the mature one, the kind one, the person who sees every side, the one who keeps everyone else afloat. And I’ve done it quietly, without complaint, because that felt like the “right” thing to do.

But today, I think I really needed to remind myself: I really don’t have to do it all. I don’t have to always be the strong one or the right one or the kindest one. I don’t have to understand or forgive or carry what isn’t mine alone. I can step back. I can pause. I can still take care of me first.

“You’re not wrong for feeling done. You’re human for feeling tired. And you’re brave for even admitting it out loud.
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It’s okay to take a step back and let others meet you halfway..”

I need to remember that it’s okay to expect others to meet me halfway. I’ve given so much, and sometimes it feels like no one notices, no one reflects it back, no one sees the weight I’m carrying. And that’s not a failure on my part or anyone’s responsibility either; it’s simply a reminder that not everyone is ready or willing to share the load (yet).

So I am finally giving myself permission: permission to rest, to apuse, and to just breathe. Permission to take a break without guilt, to slow down, and to check in with my own heart before anyone else’s. Permission to also protect my peace and my energy, because I have worked really hard for it and they are precious, and they matter.

So in the meantime… I will just be. I will let things unfold at their own pace and allow myself the patience I’ve long given to others.

In the Blink of an Eye…

Life will go by in the blink of an eye.

You won’t even realize it’s happening; not when it’s gentle, not when it’s wild, and definitely not when it’s everything in between. Most often, you won’t even have the chance to pause and understand that life is really just going by, quietly, secretly, in that blink of an eye.

You’ll meet people who’ll hold up a mirror to your best self; the you that laughs too loudly, dreams too deeply, and hopes even when there’s no reason to.

And then, there will be others; the ones who walk straight into your soul without knocking, who somehow show you the corners of your heart you didn’t even know existed. They’ll tell you things about yourself you’ve hidden so well that even you forgot they were there.

At times, you’ll get to choose the people around you; the ones who make life taste like your favorite coffee on a slow Sunday morning. And other times, life will surprise you with its randomness; from strangers that become stories, stories that become lessons, and the lessons that eventually become a part of who you are.

You’ll get lost, many a times, even when you clung so close to the map..

But you’ll find yourself again; sometimes in music, sometimes in a long walk in an unknown neighbourhood, and other times in the middle of a conversation that feels like home.

There will be moments when you’ll be more lost than ever (just like now); moments when even your reflection feels like a stranger. But maybe that’s what it means to live — to lose, to find, to lose again, and to keep walking anyway.

Just a while ago, I woke up from a long nap. The seasons outside seem to be changing. It’s strange how naps feel like time travel at this time of the year; one moment you’re here, the next you wake up somewhere between a silly memory and funny reality. I do have a love-hate relationship with naps; especially in the autumn. They never fail to stir something in me; a nostalgia so heavy, it almost feels like everything is still a dream.

I’m still trying to connect the dots of all the places I stopped by this silly dream. Some of them make sense; a few faces, a few corners of old memories; but the rest still leave me asking a million questions about why I existed there in the first place. A lot of it might not make sense, but maybe someday it will. Maybe life, too, is a dream that only makes sense when we’ve lived enough of it.

That’s what’s happening right now. Which is why I’m here, writing this — because there’s no better way to deal with feelings than to let them spill softly onto paper.

The journey so far has been… beautiful.

Bittersweet.

Chocolatey.

Dreamy.

A cocktail of all the emotions I haven’t learned to name yet; a mix of longing, wonder, quiet heartbreak, and gentle hope. It’s strange how life can be both soft and fierce, both fleeting and eternal; how it can make you ache and heal you in the same breath. Maybe that’s what autumn always teaches me, to let go of the battle between holding on and letting go…

And maybe that’s the secret — that in the blink of an eye, everything changes, and yet somehow, everything stays.

And if you listen closely, somewhere between your heartbeat and the silence that follows, you’ll realize —

you’re still here.

Still breathing.

Still falling in love — with everything, all over again.

To become someone.
To become grounded.
To become soft but strong.
To become unshakably at peace with who I am.

Hey! Silly YOU!!

Yes YOU!

It’s okay!

It’s okay if you messed up a little..

Or a little too much.

It’s okay if you were alone and scared or maybe just lonely!

It’s okay if you keep repeating the same mistakes again and again.

It’s okay if you don’t know what’s ahead yet.

It’s okay if life has been unfair lately. So what? You are not the center of the Universe.

But you can always move… move towards the center.. the one that aligns more with you!

It’s okay if you don’t know how to get there yet!

It’s okay if you will still make the same mistake again..

As long as it takes!

As long as you don’t stop looking for yourself.

As long as you don’t stop loving yourself a little… even when you forget how to.

Because one day..
when you are done running in circles..
you will stop.

And you will see..
that maybe someone was waiting there
right where you stopped.

Waiting to tell you…

That you were always enough.

That even your clumsy ways of loving
and your silly ways of dreaming
were beautiful.

And maybe that someone is you.

Maybe it was always YOU!

Wow. Monday morning. A new chapter begins. And oh, how much I love Mondays.

As I pulled the blinds open this morning, expecting to see the endless blue sky stretching wide above me and the Han River shining like a silvery blue ribbon below. But to my surprise, the sky was so grey and heavy, almost like my own thoughts these past few weeks. The river, usually so clear and the bluest color I’ve ever seen, was muddy from the weekend’s rains.

Even the most beautiful things in nature have their off days, don’t they?

For a moment, I wondered how they would clean this up and how the water would ever go back to its brilliant blue – my favourite blue. But then I smiled at my own thought. Silly me!! Nature doesn’t need any fixing. It knows how to heal. The dirt will settle and become a layer at the bed, perhaps? The current will carry away what doesn’t belong. And soon, the river will be so clear again that we’ll see our reflections dancing on its surface.

Maybe that’s how it is for us, too.

The storms we face in life stir things up inside us. They make our thoughts and emotions cloudy, heavy, so hard to see through. But in time, the chaos usually calms. The dust eventuallly settles, and sometimes become a part of us, leaving us behind with a stronger, steadier version of ourselves.

These past few weeks have been tough; both personally and professionally. Some days felt like I was wading through murky water, unsure if it would ever clear.

But just like the river, I’m learning to let the dust settle. To trust that the turbulence has a purpose. That even the mess becomes part of the story. My story.

And slowly, clarity might return. The heaviness will lift. The water might soften into its blueness again.

Maybe that’s what healing looks like — not rushing to fix what’s broken, but allowing time to do its quiet work.

Soon, the river will reflect the sky again. And so will I.

I am as used to chasing time as you are!

Chasing mornings, deadlines, dreams, and the my ever-growing to-do lists.

It feels like the clock is always ticking; urging me to do more, achieve faster, and catch up to some invisible finish line, lline after line.

But here’s a thought: What if the clock only ticks because we allow it to?

What if time isn’t running out?

What if all of this isn’t a race?

The world is exactly where you left it before resting your head on that sweet pillow last night.

There is nothing you have missed.

Or better yet, there is nothing you could have missed.

We live in a constant state of urgency. Notifications ping while we sleep. Messages stack up. The fear of falling behind creeps in, even as our bodies beg for rest.

But here’s another perception of mine: What if time slows when you slow down?

The clock stops ticking when you want it to.

What if when you close your eyes and let yourself surrender, nothing falls apart?

What if the sun still rises?

And the sky still opens wide.

What if the people who love you still do.

And you didn’t miss your chance.

Or lose your place.

What if you’re not late for life?

What if the most beautiful parts of life will wait for you?

As long as you need. As much as you need.

I never thought I’d say this out loud.

But thank you.
Thank you for breaking me.

For the longest time, I carried so much anger, pain and questions in my heart that it felt like I was breathing through splinters. I replayed conversations in my head. The betrayal. The rejection. The manipulation. The silence that felt louder than screams. And every time, I thought — this isn’t fair.

But fairness has nothing to do with it.
Life isn’t about fair. It’s about becoming.

I used to think that breaking was the end. That once the pieces of me scattered across the floor, I would never find them again. I clung to the idea of “whole” like it was something someone else could give me back. But here’s what I know now: no one can hand you back what they already broke.

The people who hurt me didn’t destroy me.
They stripped away the layers of who I wasn’t.

Their absence forced me to sit with myself. To meet the parts of me I had been avoiding — the scared, messy, angry, lonely parts. It was uncomfortable. It was painful. And it was the beginning of something I can only describe as… freedom.

I won’t lie to you. Healing wasn’t graceful.
It wasn’t morning yoga and herbal tea and forgiving smiles.
It was ugly.
It was crying on the bathroom floor, questioning my worth, rewriting stories I didn’t want to admit I had believed about myself for years.

But here’s the beautiful, terrible truth: you can only rebuild when you’ve allowed yourself to break.

I didn’t know it then, but those fractures became the blueprint for the person I was always meant to become. The one I see now in the mirror — stronger, softer, truer.

This isn’t about glorifying pain. Or pretending what happened didn’t hurt.
It’s about choosing not to stay there.
It’s about saying: you hurt me, but you don’t get to define me.

To the ones who broke me: thank you.
Without knowing it, you pointed me back to myself.

I’ve been writing about this a lot lately — trying to make sense of it all. Maybe one day soon I’ll share more. It’s all part of something I’m working on.

And I think you’ll feel it too.

July 09, 2025

Still in pieces,

That’s me!

A few days ago, a friend texted me:

“Half a year just flew by.”

And it wasn’t until I read that message that I paused — really paused — and realized: Wait, what?

Time really does fly, even when the days were endless. Even when your to-do lists seem to refill themselves overnight. Even when your emotions are too heavy, or too much, or oddly… both.

Looking back now, it’s strange how the things that once felt unbearably heavy don’t weigh the same anymore. They still exist, as a part of the story but something’s shifted. The volume’s turned down. The edges aren’t as sharp. It doesn’t hurt (or bother?) as much as it did.

Maybe that’s what time does.

It gives you distance.

It gives you perspective.

It teaches you to zoom out. (I wonder why aren’t we calling Time as Magic already?)

It also reminds me of a reel I watched on Instagram the other day. It asked:

“If someone offered to erase all your past challenges but also erased the strength you gained from overcoming them; would you say yes?”

Wow! That really did blow my mind. I didn’t even hesitate. No. Absolutely not. As hard as some moments were, they changed me. They softened me in some places, and toughened me in others. No I wouldn’t undo any of it. Not even for fewer tears or easier days.

Now that July is here, I’m giving myself a soft reset. Not the dramatic, resolution-packed kind. Just… a pause. A breath. A check-in.

What do I want the next half of the year to feel like?

What do I want to carry forward?

What have I learned so far that I don’t want to forget?

Some answers are clear. Others are still hiding. (I’ve never liked treasure hunts — but here I am, searching anyway.)

I don’t know what the next six months will hold. But I do know this:

I want to be present. Not just when things are calm and Instagram-worthy but even when life feels chaotic, clumsy, and unclear. I want to become the next version of myself. Not the “best” version because honestly, what even is that? Just a version more honest, more aligned, more me.

I want to say no more often — without guilt or over-explaining.

I DO want to protect my peace and my energy.

I ALSO want to keep the promises I’ve quietly made to myself.

I want to move my body more; not for how it looks, but for how I feel when I do. Clearer. Grounded. Strong. (Yes, the Leo in me loves that feeling of fire and strength.)

I want to stay close to my people; the ones who’ve stayed close to me. The ones who remind me who I am when I forget.

And most of all, I want to stay close to the woman I see in the mirror every morning. I want to keep showing up for her — gently, patiently, lovingly.

So no, this cup isn’t overflowing yet. But it’s not empty either.

It’s perfectly half full — with gratitude, growth, questions, doubts, hope, softness, strength… and everything else that makes me me.

And for now, that’s enough. That’s more than enough to keep going.

What about you?

What are you taking into the next half of this year?

What are you letting go of?

And what’s one quiet promise you want to keep for yourself?

Maybe this new chapter is not about finding answers about others. Maybe it’s about becoming the kind of person who doesn’t need them all. The kind of person who trusts that sometimes not knowing is a form of wisdom. That uncertainty is just another form of becoming.