In February, I was laid off from The Washington Post when my entire team in Seoul was cut. More than 300 journalists lost their jobs in a single day.
About two years ago, my family and I moved to South Korea from Colorado after I was offered the job. It was a risk, but I saw several potential upsides. Professionally, it was an opportunity to work for a premier news organization and a chance to test my ability to perform at the highest level.
From a family standpoint, it meant my South Korean wife could reconnect with her kin and culture after spending 10 years among my people in the US.
Another big factor was how it could benefit my daughter.
We were excited for her and for ourselves as parents. Living in her mother’s home country would mean free childcare, no active-shooter drills in school, and an opportunity to learn another language at an age when her brain could absorb knowledge at an astonishing rate.
The logistics were intimidating
The decision wasn’t made lightly. I can remember walking the sidewalks of our Colorado exurb, trying to decide if this was the right choice. In that sunny winter weather, our daughter bundled up in a stroller, the dog investigating lawns, our conversations would go:
“Are you happy here?”
“I feel like if we stay we’re going to get old in front of the TV.”
“Can you imagine how much better the food will be?”
“If we don’t do it now, we’ll probably never do it.”
This was the question we kept coming back to:
“Do you want to live in a boring heaven, or an exciting hell?”
Korea is often satirically referred to as “Hell Joseon” by the younger generations. It’s a competitive society with a strict hierarchical social structure. But it’s also incredibly fun — the food, nightlife, and travel opportunities are all first-rate.
We knew that life as parents in Korea would be different from when we last lived in Seoul —where we’d met more than a decade prior.
“It’ll be better. We’re still young enough to do exciting hell.”
Still, it wasn’t that simple. We had established a life in Colorado. We owned a two-story house full of stuff. We had cars and jobs. Up and moving is one thing when you’re in your 20s or 30s and single. It’s different when you’re in your 40s with a family.
We wanted to challenge ourselves
We decided to do it. We packed our essentials into a shipping container. The rest we gave to friends and family and sold through an online estate sale. We made complicated arrangements to ship our Malamute-Husky mix, a large dog.
After we arrived, we moved to a humble three-bedroom apartment in the same complex as my wife’s parents, our buildings separated by a small street. The proximity to family has been great for us.
When my daughter finishes preschool in the afternoon, she goes to halmoni’s — the Korean word for grandmother — where my wife’s mom makes her a smoothie and lets her watch cartoons.
For the past two years, while she was there watching movies like “KPop Demon Hunters,” I would work from home, reporting on news from anywhere in the world.
When my shift was over, I would close my computer and go for a walk around the neighborhood.
Making the right decision
Even beyond the layoff, I question certain parts of our decision. We still wonder why we sent some things and not others. Why did we keep the decorative Christmas platter? We’ve only used it once. Why didn’t I ship my bike? Frames that fit my height are hard to find.
Back in the States, I had lost most of the little Korean I knew; I also forgot how alienating it feels to not know the language.
Those are my problems. My wife is comfortable here. My daughter is now fluent in both languages and rolls her eyes at me when I try to speak Korean.
I’ve made some new friends and reconnected with others. Some of my fellow expats are still learning this way of life, while others have stayed here for many years — I’ve found community. We all try to take care of each other.
As I’m grieving the loss of this job that meant so much to me at the time, I’m trying to view the outcome with gratitude.
I’m grateful for the extra time I get now to drop my daughter off at preschool. I’m not nearly as stressed. For the past 15 years, I’ve taken the jobs given to me, trying to survive and swim ahead of the layoffs I knew were coming in this industry.
I’m viewing this as an opportunity to reset and reassess where I want to take my career. I’m grateful to be in Asia for the immediate future. The world is a fascinating place, and there are so many stories to tell.
Do you have a story to share about living abroad? Contact the editor at akarplus@businessinsider.com.
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