For as long as I can remember, ambition was my North Star. I first truly understood its power in my second year of university. I watched, pained, as someone close to me—in their final year and without a clear 'what's next'—spiraled into darkness, overwhelmed by their peers' seemingly grand plans. Sitting there, in second year, equally clueless, I had my own gut-check moment.

• What was I going to do after I finished school?

• How do I show up better for this person?

As I ruminated, I slowly realized that I needed to get my sh*t together.

I had been running on autopilot for most of my life. By the time I finished highschool, I had no clue what I wanted to do, let alone where I wanted to study.

Years later, I'd understand that it wasn't just ambition they lacked. It was also clarity.

Taking ambition by its horn

Once I found my ambition and a purpose to anchor it to, I became unstoppable. For the remainder of my university years, I seized every opportunity. It was as if a dimmed light inside me suddenly blazed, illuminating just enough of the path ahead to guide my next few steps.

Ambition: a strong desire to do or to achieve something, typically requiring determination and hard work.

I knew I needed to expand my world. I applied for international exchange, and with a purpose now ignited, I ferociously worked to meet the GPA requirement. Once abroad, my focus shifted to SFU's co-op program, eager to secure internships and gain practical experience before graduating—a direct response to the struggles I'd witnessed. Yet, even after stints in Hong Kong and the Netherlands, my ambition remained hungry. I sought out university organizations where I could invest my heart and soul, leading to ventures like founding the Her Campus chapter at SFU. This pivotal experience at 20 transformed me into the driven person I became.

But something changed

Maybe it’s age, maybe it’s experience, or maybe it’s being burnt too many times. Now being 30, I view ambition differently. Having resigned from my 9-5 tech career recently, I’ve realized that ambition didn’t change in the moment I resigned.

I realized this redefinition had been subtly unfolding over recent years.

So, what does that all mean? It means I’m actively redefining ambition in my 30s. Here’s how:

Practicing Ikigai

I am learning to view ambition more holistically through ikigai. Ikigai (生き甲斐) is a Japanese concept that refers to having a sense of purpose in life, or a reason for being. Ikigai reminds me that life is all about balance. It’s about finding joy and fulfillment in activities, relationships, or even the simple routines of daily life. In order to achieve that, Ikigai encourages us to not lose sight of your reason for being: to find the intersection of what you love, what you're good at, what the world needs, and what you can be paid for.

What I love most about Ikigai is its holistic approach to life. In my 30s, it’s becoming a focal point for how I define ambition, constantly reminding me that my identity extends far beyond my career and encouraging me to give myself grace as I navigate this realization.

In short, Ikigai:

• Is not just a job or a career: Work can be one part of ikigai, but it doesn’t have to be everything. Hobbies, relationships, or even the way we approach daily, mundane tasks can be ikigai.

• Is part of your personal journey: There's no one-size-fits-all definition of ikigai. It's about discovering what brings you joy, meaning, and a sense of purpose. And that looks different for everyone.

• Can change over time: Humans grow and evolve, and different chapters of our lives hold different goals and meanings. I love that your ikigai can shift and change.

• Is linked to well-being: Studies suggest that having a sense of ikigai can contribute to a longer, happier, and more meaningful life. That’s largely in part to why older Japanese adults have shown to have improved health and wellbeing, like 31 percent lower risk of developing functional disability.

Feel the fear and do it anyway

I am learning—through trial and error—to direct my ambition not just towards the familiar but also to the unknown. And by doing that, I often face fear.

Fear is in all of us.

• Fear of taking risk → so we take the safe route

• Fear of failure → so we stay within our comfort zone

• Fear of being seen → so we make ourselves smaller

Over recent years, I’ve come to learn that fear is just a facade. It’s a primal reaction, a signal from our bodies telling our brains that a situation might not be safe. Yet, with every action taken despite that fear, I've discovered a world of opportunities waiting.

I first flexed this muscle of courage by doing something seemingly small: getting an Italian bob.

I know, it sounds minor, but as someone who’s had long hair their entire lives, it felt monumental!

Taking that leap, embracing the fear, built a quiet confidence. That courage, cultivated through a 'small' act, ultimately fueled my decision to resign from my tech career.

The more I heal, the less ambitious I become 🙅🏻‍♀️

It's tempting to think that healing means a retreat from ambition, but for me, that couldn't be further from the truth. Instead, healing hasn't diminished my drive; it has profoundly reshaped it. My ambition isn't less; it's simply different. It's less about external validation and more about conscious creation, fueled by a deep understanding of my purpose and a courageous willingness to step into the unknown. This redefined ambition, rooted in well-being and clarity, is what truly propels me forward now.

This journey of redefining ambition and finding clarity deeply resonates with the mission behind Kinship Club. Angel & I founded Kinship to help ambitious creatives like you connect, grow, and explore conscious living beyond burnout. Because honestly? We’re going through it too. It's about building a community where we can openly share our evolving definitions of success and support each other in navigating these shifts.