Hmm…maybe not.
I didn’t plan to stay in Korea. I came open-minded about how long I would work here, but I didn’t really imagine settling down here.
I often call myself an expat, largely because I like to “leave the door open,” so to speak, especially as a TCK who is used to moving around. You never know when another opportunity will come knocking!
But you could easily call me an immigrant. An accidental immigrant, in a way.
I always thought I would stay a few years at most, and then move on. But when I chose to marry my husband, saying Yes to him meant accepting the likelihood that I would stay in Korea long-term.
I’ve had mixed feelings about that. There’s a lot to love about Korea, and a lot to worry about too. There are things that suit me well, and things that don’t. Some days I’m happy to be here, and some days I don’t want to be here at all.
Learning to settle down is a hard process at times, especially as someone used to moving a lot. There’s a part of me that has always wished to put down roots in a place, and a part of me that simply can’t imagine it. There’s a part of me that is open to settling down in Korea, and a part of me that balks at it.
With my upbringing, though, I’m unlikely to feel completely at home anywhere. "Home" and "belonging" are concepts I will probably always wrestle with. Besides, perhaps home is something you make, rather than find.
But there are two things I do know.
One is that there is no Utopia. We have to make the most of where we are, enjoying the good and mitigating the bad to the best of our ability.
And then, there is the truth that when we say Yes to one thing, we automatically say No to something else.
Even when we’ve said Yes to something good, it’s normal to feel sad over the concurrent loss. It’s OK – and important – to grieve the loss. To grieve the life you haven’t lived. That doesn’t make you ungrateful for the life you have chosen.
So much of life…especially, perhaps, the life of a wanderer…is “both and.”
Both delight and pain. Both adventure and awkwardness. Both belonging and uprootedness. Both love and loneliness. Both gain and loss.
So, give yourself permission to feel and experience it all. The joy of the Yes, and the grief of the No. Don’t numb one at the expense of the other.
Every day that I’m here – the days I do love Korea, and the days I don’t, the good days with my husband, and the bad days – every day that I’m here, I choose to keep saying Yes.
It's a risk. There is loss. There is grief.
There is happiness. There is laughter. There is love.
Here's to the "both and" life.
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