Coming home to Seoul has been a whirlwind of emotions. I came here at this exact same time two years ago when the pandemic first hit, so the city feels, looks and smells a lot like spring 2020. I also came here at a crossroads in my life. Whether the crossroads or the pandemic came first is unclear. Looking back, what’s certain is that I was being pulled into the allure of an alternative life I didn’t once think about until that very moment of realizing: shit, this pandemic is for real… Should I change the course of my life?! And at the time, I was so sure that I wanted to pursue a life and a career in Korea. Who didn’t ~realize things~ during the first months of the pandemic. It was a scary time. March until August 2020 was the first time I spent a significant amount of time during my adult, post-college life in Korea. Before then, I only knew what it was like to be a kid, a teen and a (very) young adult, with very little responsibilities and anything but a career. I grew up here but didn’t have the slightest idea on what it would be like to live in Seoul as a full-fledged adult. So that spring of 2020, I had made it a point to try and build a new life in Korea, alongside my family, who I am super close to, and alongside the hope that I will find a new home within my home that, at one point, was starting to not even feel like home.
I was thrilled at the prospects of this new life. It was an opportunity to spend more time with my family, grow more in tune with my Korean identity and build a new foundation that would take my life and my career into its next chapter. I made new friends, I signed with a Korean talent agency, I focused on a singular goal. I was so sure of this new life that I had carved out for my future that I lost sight of so much I had already secured back in New York—friendships I’ve cultivated over the past seven years, a budding career as a newly full-time digital creator and a love interest who I was just starting to get excited about (update: he is now my boyfriend).
Tunnel vision is scary because you aren’t able to see how good you have it until you zoom out. Or maybe not even how good you have it, but what is good for you right now. That I was not even thinking about my amazing and robust life in New York most people would kill to have is a testament to covid’s stronghold over my decision-making, not the sign of anything lacking in my life. Whether it’s the pull of a new job or new city, or the longing for a new relationship, tunnel vision puts us in an often disorienting place. That’s why it’s so reassuring to tell yourself that much of life’s course is out of our control. That was what I kept telling myself: that I’m meant to be in Korea because I can’t control any other outcome. I was brought back home for a reason. I needed to be closer to my family! But one trip back to New York in the summer that same year, another trip back to Seoul in the fall also that same year, and that final last trip back to New York right before the turn of the year confirmed what I could never explicitly confront: I do not belong in Seoul. And actually, I want to take control of my life again. Realizing this made me very sad and I call it grief, because that’s exactly what it was. Grief can be experienced in so many different forms of loss, the loss of a life you once wanted being one.
I stayed in New York for the next year and four months, which brings us to our present timeline: spring 2022 in Seoul, right now. While managing uncertainty is a huge part of the human condition, it is particularly challenging when you see others in your life or your periphery living the life you once dreamed of for yourself. It is also painful to no longer want something that you once longed for, or a life you started to already making strides towards. Realizing that I no longer wanted this “bicontinental” life I kept talking about made me feel like a failure: I had failed myself by not achieving the lofty goals I set out, I failed my family for no longer having a reason to stay in Seoul and ultimately, I failed my future self for altering her set course, ultimately preventing said future self from actualizing.
Currently, I’m learning that a big piece of this journey is acceptance. It is absolutely the only way forward. It’s a process of grieving whatever loss you’re going through and then moving toward a place of acknowledgement that it just be like that sometimes. I tell myself, yeah, my life isn’t what I imagined it would be—there’s a huge gaping hole in my heart that is missing but I am grateful for the things in my life that are working out, and it’s okay that I don’t love every single part of my life right now.
What makes this so challenging for people is when we resist what’s happening in reality and attach ourselves to this plan that isn’t happening. It is imperative that we change our relationship to the *thing* that we want so that our plan is not holding us back from all the other wonderful happenings in our lives at this exact moment.
I leave for New York tomorrow. I am joyous at the prospects of coming back with a newfound security in my decision, an even bigger commitment to New York City and an unprecedented confidence in myself and my capabilities. This joy can coexist with grief. It’s okay if your current life looks different from what you envisioned. It’s okay to feel neither here nor there. It’s okay to cry because life isn’t perfect!!!!! Accepting this coexistence of joy and grief is a huge step in in embracing life’s beautiful intricacies. In my choosing to commit to New York, I have accepted the circumstances as they are: I won’t be as close to my family as I would like, I will always be going back and forth from New York to home, I will have to find other ways to celebrate my Koreanness and not lose sight of where I came from.
And so the work continues. Keep talking about the life you want to live and the person you want to be. This will look as different or as familiar as your original vision as you life. I welcome my phases of wants and needs and will nourish them for as long as I need to until I reach my final form, which won’t be for a while, if ever! Do we ever reach our final form? I’m so excited about these different iterations of my life and I hope you can be too, for yourself. Things are constantly in flux, and that is a beautiful thing.
Sorry, but I had trouble following the storyline. Tell me if this is correct. You grew up in USA east coast, but your parents lived in Korea. You established yourself in NYC. But you decided to try out Seoul. Spring 2020 was your first immersive experience in Seoul. But your parents lived there and could depend on them. Nevertheless, something didn't work out. Now you're returning to NYC. Is that correct? [Sorry, I had to read 3 times and make some guesses to reconstruct that.]
This really speaks to me. I've been living between Europe and Asia for some time now and every time I go home to Singapore it feels both familiar and strange at the same time. And the constant guilt, oh the guilt.... of choosing to be away from family and friends. I love it there but I like the me here (in Europe) more. I'm always sad to leave but also happy to leave. It's a weird mix of contradictory feelings that sometimes eats me up, but sometimes feels ok when I convince myself I need to learn to accept and live with my decisions for me to move ahead. But all in all, I think we are incredibly privileged to be able to even make these decisions. It's defo not all bad. We're the lucky ones. :) I'm happy for you that you've made big strides in your journey!