“Every Promise You Keep to Yourself Becomes an Asset”

When we break a promise to someone else, we risk hurting them or causing inconvenience. But when we break a promise to ourselves, no one else gets hurt. It’s easy to tell ourselves, “Just for today,” and let it slide.

Even so, every small promise I’ve kept to myself has stayed with me. Over time, those moments have become the foundation of my self-confidence—the proof that I can trust myself.

In this column, I’d like to look back on a promise I made with a senior actor two and a half years ago. Through that story and the habits I’ve maintained every day since then, I’ll share why I’ve come to believe that every promise you keep to yourself eventually becomes an asset.

Reuniting with the Mentor I Made a Promise with Two and a Half Years Ago

A few days ago, I unexpectedly found myself back in Japan for a short visit.

I had originally planned not to return until my visa expired in April 2027. It was a brief stay, and I barely had time to slow down, but there was someone I really wanted to see.

He was the person who inspired me to start posting on Instagram Stories every day.

Two and a half years ago, just a few days before leaving for Vancouver, I was having dinner with him. We were talking about the future—what my life in Vancouver might look like and what I wanted to do there.

Then he said: “Why don’t you try doing something every day? It can be something really small.”

At the time, I was already keeping a few promises to myself, like making my bed every morning and doing at least a little exercise.

But hearing that suggestion made me think: if I’m going to Vancouver, maybe I should start something new that can document my life there.

After moving, I began recording myself talking about what happened that day and what I was thinking, then posting it to Instagram Stories like a video diary.

About two and a half years passed.

Then I reunited with him at a café.

We didn’t have nearly enough time, but it was the kind of conversation that made me want to come back next time with even more stories to tell.

At one point, he said: “I honestly didn’t think you’d actually stick with it.”

When I started, I thought one year would be enough.

Looking at the number alone, it isn’t a short amount of time. But when I look back, it feels much shorter than I expected.

It has only been two and a half years. But at the same time, it has been a full two and a half years.

At the very least, from that day until today, I have kept that promise.

The Steadier the Work, the Less Visible the Change

I’m used to posting on Instagram Stories every day now. But that doesn’t mean every day is easy.

The hardest days are the ones when I can’t think of anything to talk about.

It’s not that I’ve done nothing. But that doesn’t mean something worth talking about has happened either.

As the work and projects I’m involved in get bigger, more people become involved too. And when it isn’t my own project, there are many things I can’t talk about based on my decision alone.

More importantly, daily work rarely creates enough visible change to become a new topic every day.

Imagine a hockey player practicing the same shots every day. Even if they posted that practice on social media daily, it probably wouldn’t get as much attention as the moment they delivered in an actual game.

For the player, that daily practice may be the most important part. But from the outside, it can look like they are simply repeating the same thing they did yesterday.

Maybe hard work is often invisible not because people are hiding it, but because meaningful change doesn’t happen in a way that can be shown every single day.

When we open social media, we immediately see the moment someone achieves a result. Once the result is there, the steady work that led up to it becomes part of a story.

But until that work turns into a visible result, it rarely gets much attention.

Does that mean nothing is being built during those quiet days?

I don’t think so.

Even the days when nothing seems to be happening are shaping where that person stands today.

Still, I continue to have days when I ask myself, “What am I going to talk about today?”

Reconsidering Why I Started—and Who I Was Doing It For

I’m always happy when people respond to my Stories or leave comments.

When someone connects with what I’m saying or supports what I’m trying to do, it makes me want to work even harder. Those reactions have given me energy many times.

But I also felt that if those reactions became the only thing I wanted, I would eventually stop.

I would have to say something useful every day. I would have to tell a more interesting story than yesterday and get more people to watch.

The more I thought that way, the less my words felt like my own.

The pressure to create something worth posting kept getting higher.

That’s why, whenever I found myself in that place, I tried to remember why I started.

What did I start this for? And who did I start it for?

It wasn’t for views or other people’s approval.

It was a promise I had made to my mentor, and at the same time, a promise I had made to myself.

The posts were meant for other people to see, but the person I had to keep the promise to was myself.

Thinking about it that way made things a little easier.

It wasn’t about how many people today’s post reached. It was about whether I had kept my promise to myself that day.

Maybe I simply chose to look at it that way so I could keep going. Still, returning to that original reason is what allowed me to continue.

Why Does a Promise to Yourself Become an Asset?

My mentor then said something else.

“If you keep doing this for ten years, it’ll become an incredible asset.”

What does “asset” mean in this case?

My daily posts are certainly a record. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to use them in another form.

On the other hand, I don’t know whether this work will lead to a specific job. I don’t even know whether Instagram will still exist in the same form in the future.

But one fact will remain:

“At least I kept doing this.”

It isn’t the kind of huge confidence that makes me believe I can do anything. But it also doesn’t depend on other people’s approval or numbers.

And a promise to yourself doesn’t have to mean posting on Instagram Stories every day.

Smile at yourself in the mirror every morning. Make your bed when you wake up. Do at least five reps of exercise every day. Compliment one person a day.

I think it can be something that small.

Posting on Instagram Stories wasn’t the first promise I ever made to myself either. I started with things that might look insignificant to other people—making my bed and moving my body, even just a little.

Whenever I failed to keep a promise, I questioned my own willpower.

But looking back, sometimes the promise I had made was simply too big for who I was at the time.

What mattered wasn’t how big or impressive the promise was. What mattered was whether I could keep the promise I had made to myself.

I don’t think the “asset” my mentor was talking about is only the record itself. I think it’s also what remains inside me after keeping that promise.

The time I’ve spent keeping my promise has already given me confidence. More precisely, it has given me a reason to trust myself.

That’s why I believe every promise you keep to yourself becomes an asset.

So, what promise should I make to myself next?