The Woman I Almost Forgot (and Found in a Tiny Korean Apartment)

After leaving a relationship and a life that no longer fit, I moved to South Korea to teach English. What began as escape became a return to the self I’d buried.

🗝 This is the story I didn’t tell last week.

In last week’s essay, I shared the messy, funny version of moving to Korea at 34.

But that’s not the full story.

This is the quieter one. The breaking one. The version I didn’t post on Instagram.

The one where a yellow tiled apartment and a room full of 9-year-olds cracked something open in me I didn’t know had closed.

What follows is a deeper reflection—on what Korea healed, what it revealed, and the voice I found buried under years of silence.

Come Behind The Draft with me. There’s a video too—just me, you, and the truth I couldn’t fit in one post.