从记事开始，我每年长一岁，都在羡慕比自己小一岁的伙伴。
小时候觉得小一点真好。
再小一点，可以被宠。
再小一点，可以犯错。
再小一点，可以什么都不承担。
18岁的时候，我几乎什么都不懂。每天都在找爹找妈的认可，找老师的认可，找同学的认可。自以为黑白分明，自以为三观正，自以为清醒。
其实不过是——
没有能力承担后果，只能用“对错”保护自己。
28岁呢？
以为自己长大了。
谈爱，抓安全感，抓幸福。
抓一个人不放。
抓一个未来不放。
抓一个“别人眼里的好生活”不放。
后来才明白——
那种“抓”，本身就是匮乏。
越抓越空。
38岁这年，我第一次觉得：
这个年龄，真好。
不再羡慕年轻。
不再急着证明。
不再幻想有人来拯救。
因为慢慢看清了一件事——
安全感不是谁给的。
幸福也不是关系给的。
真正的底气只有几样：
头脑里有货。
银行里有米。
身体健康。
情绪稳定。
能把自己照顾好。
能在黑的时候不塌。
这些加起来，才叫“爱自己”。
人来到这个世界，本来就是一个人。
走的那天，也还是一个人。
很小的时候我就想过这个问题：
一个人明明活得很好，
为什么要养猫养狗，
到最后他们离开，只剩下难过？
那是不是从一开始就不要去养。
后来才懂——
那些不过是让我们体验不同情感的方式，
是生命的一部分。
中间那些角色——
别人的女儿，
别人的妻子，
别人的妈妈，
别人的儿媳——
很多都是社会给我们安放的位置。
如果别人把我们当平等的人尊重，
我们愿意温柔地扮演这些角色。
如果不是——
我们有选择权随时掀桌。
不是任性。
是边界。
女人首先得是自己。
得有很多的爱。
得有给自己爱的能力。
得有自己的苹果树。
得有一片稳定的果园。
果子多到——
随手给需要的人一颗苹果，
你都不会心疼。
哪怕那些人不珍惜，
甚至踩过你的心意。
因为你知道——
根在你这。
——
有一次，在一个很小的房间里睡觉。
外面是空荡荡、很长很窄的走道。
安静到仿佛活在另一个世界，真实到让人害怕。
那一刻，我突然意识到：
再过十五年，就五十岁了。
那一瞬间，是慌的。
因为总觉得还有很多事情没做。
很多梦想没实现。
很多能力没展开。
后来，我又慢慢安静下来。
如果十八岁是找认可，
二十八岁是抓爱，
三十八岁是找自己——
那五十岁，可能是活稳，
可能是越活越丰盛。
只要今天的自己，活成真正的自己。
不委屈自己，
为自己争取自由。
时间不是敌人。
时间只是筛选器。
它会把抓不住的东西筛掉，
留下真正属于你的部分。
38岁，不是老。
是第一次不再羡慕年轻。
是第一次知道：
女人这一生，
最重要的不是被爱。
而是成为自己。
—
婷妈修心录
创作于 2026.02.20
原创发布： tingtingma.com
记录一个女人的觉醒、修复与内在成长。
未经授权，请勿转载。
Tingma’s Inner Work Journal | No.17
At 38, For the First Time, I No Longer Envied Youth
Since I can remember, every year as I grew older, I found myself envying those who were one year younger than me.
When I was little, being younger felt wonderful.
A little younger meant being cherished.
A little younger meant being allowed to make mistakes.
A little younger meant not having to carry any responsibility.
At eighteen, I understood almost nothing. Every day, I searched for my parents’ approval, my teachers’ approval, my classmates’ approval. I believed I saw things clearly, believed my values were right, believed I was awake.
But in truth—
I simply lacked the ability to bear consequences, so I used “right and wrong” to protect myself.
What about twenty-eight?
I thought I had grown up.
I chased love, chased security, chased happiness.
I clung to a person.
I clung to a future.
I clung to the “good life” others defined.
Later I realized—
that very act of “grasping” came from emptiness.
The tighter I held on, the emptier I felt.
At thirty-eight, for the first time, I thought:
This age is beautiful.
I no longer envied youth.
I no longer rushed to prove myself.
I no longer fantasized about being saved by someone.
Because slowly, I came to see one truth clearly—
Security is not given by anyone.
Happiness does not come from relationships.
True grounding comes from only a few things:
A mind filled with substance.
Money in the bank.
A healthy body.
Emotional stability.
The ability to take care of oneself.
The ability to stay standing even in the dark.
All of these together—that is what it means to love oneself.
We come into this world alone.
And the day we leave, we are still alone.
I had thought about this even when I was very young:
If a person can live well on their own,
why keep a cat or a dog,
only to be left with grief when they pass away?
Wouldn’t it be better not to have them at all?
Later I understood—
those are simply ways for us to experience different emotions.
They are part of being alive.
In between, we take on many roles—
someone’s daughter,
someone’s wife,
someone’s mother,
someone’s daughter-in-law—
many of these are positions society assigns to us.
If others treat us with equal respect,
we are willing to gently play these roles.
If not—
we have the right to flip the table and walk away.
That is not rebellion.
That is a boundary.
A woman must first be herself.
She must have abundant love.
She must have the ability to give that love to herself.
She must grow her own apple tree.
She must cultivate a stable orchard.
When the fruits are plentiful—
you can casually offer an apple to someone in need
without feeling the slightest pain,
even if they fail to cherish it,
even if they step on your kindness.
Because you know—
the roots are yours.
—
Once, I was sleeping in a very small room.
Outside was a long, narrow, empty hallway.
It was so quiet it felt like I was living in another world—so real it was frightening.
In that moment, I suddenly realized:
In fifteen years, I will be fifty.
For a brief instant, I panicked.
It felt like there was still so much left undone.
So many dreams unrealized.
So many abilities yet to unfold.
Later, I slowly became calm again.
If eighteen was about seeking approval,
twenty-eight was about grasping for love,
thirty-eight is about finding oneself—
then fifty may be about living steadily,
about becoming more and more abundant,
as long as today I am living as my true self—
without betraying myself,
and willing to fight for my own freedom.
Time is not an enemy.
Time is a filter.
It sifts away what cannot be held,
and leaves behind what truly belongs to you.
Thirty-eight is not old.
It is the first time I no longer envy youth.
It is the first time I understand:
For a woman,
the most important thing in this life
is not to be loved.
It is to become herself.
—
Tingma’s Inner Work Journal
Created on February 20, 2026
Originally published on: tingtingma.com
Documenting a woman’s journey of awakening, healing, and inner growth.
Unauthorized reproduction is prohibited.
Originally written in Chinese by the author.
This English version was translated with the assistance of ChatGPT.