When BTS debuted in 2013, I was already entering one of the hardest seasons of my life. Technically, I was only beginning adulthood. But emotionally? I had already been carrying adult responsibilities for years.
I started supporting myself at 17. By the time I entered my twenties, life became less about discovering myself and more about surviving quietly.
Marriage.
Pregnancy.
Motherhood.
Exhaustion.
Somewhere along the way, I slowly lost touch with K-pop too. Not because I stopped liking it. I used to enjoy it a lot actually.
But eventually there were just too many groups debuting, too much content constantly appearing online, and life itself already felt overwhelming enough. Keeping up with entertainment started feeling tiring instead of exciting.
So when BTS appeared, to me back then, they honestly just felt like another K-pop group. Nothing particularly special. At least that’s what I thought at the time.
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Years later, I finally started learning about their actual journey.
Not just the music.
Not just the performances.
But the struggle behind everything.
The rejection.
The humiliation.
The constant criticism.
The feeling of being underestimated over and over again.
And somehow, as a millennial woman who also spent years feeling like life kept pushing her down, their story hit me differently.
Because I understood that kind of exhaustion. The kind where giving up would’ve been understandable. The kind where surviving itself quietly becomes an achievement nobody claps for.
That’s why watching BTS succeed doesn’t feel inspiring to me in a shallow motivational quote kind of way.
It feels comforting.
Almost healing.
Because sometimes seeing people continue despite rejection, despite exhaustion, despite the odds stacked against them… reminds you that maybe you can continue too.
And maybe that’s why BTS found me later in life instead of earlier. Not as teenage entertainment. But as comfort for the version of me that survived.
Maybe that’s also why this season of life feels so emotional to me now. My children are growing bigger. Life no longer feels as heavy every single day.
And for the first time in a very long while, I feel like I can slowly enjoy life again instead of constantly being in survival mode.
These days, I celebrate things I never had the emotional space to celebrate before. Getting my driver’s license in my thirties. Learning Hangul just because I genuinely enjoy it. Taking online courses to build new skills. Planning little trips. Rediscovering music and fandom culture again. Laughing over fandom jokes online. Allowing myself to feel excited about silly little things again.
For so many years, life felt like responsibility after responsibility. Just trying to make it through. But somewhere along the way, things started feeling softer. And maybe that’s the strange beauty of getting older as a millennial.
Somewhere after all the chaos, exhaustion, responsibilities, and years spent pouring into everyone else… life finally starts slowing down a little. Not perfectly. But enough to breathe. Enough to notice joy again. Enough to realise that healing doesn’t always arrive loudly.
Sometimes it quietly arrives through small moments:
music, learning, laughter, concerts, memories, late-night reflections, and finally allowing yourself to enjoy life without guilt.
And maybe that’s why learning about BTS now feels strangely healing to me. Because when I look at their journey, I don’t just see success. I see endurance. I see seven people who kept going despite exhaustion, pressure, and doubt.
And as a fellow millennial who also spent years quietly trying to survive life, it almost feels like we arrived at this calmer chapter together. Like maybe…
we can rest a little now.
Ummi Noi