Life feels rough, these days. Rougher than I expected.
I am in Seoul for one more month. I moved to a tiny dorm-style room south of the Han and am free of obligations (except preparing for my black belt test) until I move to China in November.
No job, for a whole month! I haven’t had a month off from working, since I was fifteen.
But every morning I wake up with a sinking heart.
In pursuit of my dreams, I’ve left my job, my life, everything I’ve become accustomed to: my colleagues, my amazing students, my beautifully lit apartment, the mountain just up the hill, where a buddhist temple hides. My neighborhood with the gorgeous views; the sound of the crickets along the tree-lined pathways. The skyscrapers, huddled together in the distance like the shy kids at school.
Dream-chasing often comes with a price. You can have everything you ever wanted, you can have it all- you just have to give up everything.
A lot of people express envy or fascination at my life. I lived in Paris at 19. When I was 22 I left my home and everyone I knew to move across the continent with nothing but a car and a thousand dollars to my name.
Then, two years ago I moved to the other side of the planet, to pursue my dream of teaching abroad. Now, I’m moving again.
Pursuing your dreams, pursuing the things you believe in, is so exciting, such a huge adventure- but the separation from your former life is like being punched in the stomach over and over. Your net, the things that grounded you, that gave you purpose, are gone.
I do it without fear- because I’ve done it many times before. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t grief.
My adorable kindergartners- their smiles, their laughter, their progress, their play- I’ll miss that the most. My older students- their wit, their enthusiasm, the gears turning behind their eyes- that’s next. And my colleagues, their antics, their support, the idea-exchanging, the rapport, the decompressing over soju, the memories.
Now, I’m alone again, starting from scratch. Until November, when I move to China, there’s nothing but me, my tiny goshiwon apartment (66 square feet!), taekwondo, and my thoughts. And time, lots and lots of time to think about everything I’ve pulled myself away from, to pursue an unknown future.
What is this strange space? Not regret, not fear- but so much that was meaningful in my life is now gone.
I get why people don’t do it. Why they don’t make that move that they dream of, whether it’s a job or relationship or physical move. Giving up everything you’ve worked so hard to build is not easy, and maybe not worth it.
Me, though? I’ve done this before, I know what comes next.
Build new meaning. Build from scratch, a whole new life. And don’t look back.
And I know, like so many times before- I’ll find my heart again.