Hello everyone, welcome to today’s episode.
Let me start with a question: have you ever felt that once you hit your thirties, life suddenly switched to fast-forward mode? You’re busy all day, yet you still feel there isn’t enough time—that somehow, you’re always late, always falling behind.
You may find yourself staring at your calendar, thinking: “How did the day vanish so quickly? How is the year almost over again?” This sense of urgency is common, and it’s not just in your head. It reflects how our minds experience time and pressure.
Our experience of time isn’t just about the ticking clock—it’s shaped by our psychology.
When we’re immersed in one thing, time can feel like it flies. When we’re anxious or waiting, it seems to drag endlessly.
But in your 30s, life is packed with high-density events: career promotions, family responsibilities, raising children, maybe even caring for parents, buying a home, or moving cities. These overlapping milestones create a sense of constant transition, as if life is one scene cut rapidly to the next.
The more densely events stack up, the more our brains compress them. And that compression translates into the feeling that time itself is accelerating—leaving us gasping for air.
What makes things worse is that the pressure often doesn’t come from the outside. It comes from within. Even if there’s no hard deadline, you may hear a voice in your head whispering: “You’d better hurry, or you’ll fall behind.”
This self-imposed countdown drains your mental energy. It scatters focus, lowers efficiency, and leaves you feeling even more anxious. And the effect lingers: even after the task is done, that tense, hurried state remains, like you’re constantly racing against an invisible clock.
In other words, what wears us down isn’t always the task itself—it’s the relentless feeling of being rushed.
There’s another psychological trap at play: scarcity.
When we perceive a resource as scarce—in this case, time—our attention locks onto it. The result? We become more impulsive. Faced with a choice between a small immediate payoff and a larger long-term one, we lean toward the short-term.
That’s why we might stay up late scrolling through our phones, even though we know tomorrow morning will be brutal. Anxiety narrows our vision, and urgency pushes us to grab what’s right in front of us, neglecting bigger goals down the road.
But there is a way out: building a stronger sense of control over time. People who feel they manage their schedule, set priorities, and pace themselves are far less vulnerable to the pull of short-termism. When you take back the rhythm, scarcity stops dictating your choices.
There’s one more factor: how clearly we can picture the future.
In our twenties, the future feels endless, so even without concrete plans, we assume there’s time. But by thirty, if the future is vague, that vagueness itself turns into anxiety.
Those who can describe their goals in concrete terms—“In three years I want to reach this level in my career,” “In five years I hope to be living in this city”—report higher satisfaction. Clear goals serve as a lighthouse, anchoring us against the storm.
But when the future is a foggy landscape with no landmarks, every step feels uncertain. And that uncertainty easily feeds the sense of “I’m running out of time.”
The good news? There are two practical ways to ease this tension:
First, strengthen your sense of control over time—set the pace yourself instead of being dragged along. Second, make the future more concrete—turn vague anxieties into visible goals.
With that, perhaps we’ll say less often, “I’m already thirty, and I haven’t done enough,” and more often, “I know where I’m going, and I’m on my way.”
That’s all for today’s episode. If you’re around thirty—or if you’ve already walked through that stage—share with us: when was the last time you felt you were running out of time?
