Last year on April, I went to Korea carrying a mind that felt heavier than my luggage. The trip ended earlier than I had planned — not because of a change in itinerary, but because of a panic attack that cut the journey short. My anxiety packed itself into my suitcase without permission. I was mentally off, disconnected, and exhausted. I thought distance from home and the excitement of traveling would make me feel better, but I stand corrected.
This year, I returned to Korea — and the difference felt surreal, like meeting a new version of myself. I didn’t go back to “fix” anything. I went back because I wanted to try again in a softer way. I wanted to enjoy life without having to plan out every moment to make sure that it would go well.
Just this quiet promise to myself:
“I’ll try again, but gently this time.”
And somehow, without forcing it, life met me halfway.
This time, the trip felt kind — in the air I breathed, the yellow leaves I saw, the strangers who became friends, the long walks, the unplanned conversations, the wine I drank. I met so many new people, made good friends and even crossed paths with a moment I had once kept safely tucked away in prayer. A simple, unbelievable moment that reminded me that the universe answers quietly too — when you’re not pulling at its sleeves.
Somewhere along this trip, I stumbled upon a quote that said:
“Everything in life is a win if your goal is to experience.”
And that felt like the missing piece of a puzzle I didn’t even know I was solving.
Because when experience becomes the compass instead of outcome, life becomes far less frightening. Every person, place and moment walks into our timeline not to be ranked, but to be felt. To move something in us — stretch the heart, stir emotion, spark wonder, or make us braver simply because we lived it.
I also learned that 'what's yours will never pass you by'.
Plant a seed with gentleness.
If it grows, that’s shared.
If it doesn’t, go on with grace.
That philosophy ended up echoing through every corner of this journey — including the moments that bloomed unexpectedly when I loosened my grip on needing control.
The biggest and most important part of this year's trip was realizing this:
I’m so proud that I’m in a much better place mentally now.
I’m more confident. I’m more open. I’m putting myself out there again, trusting more, fearing less and being present for moments without needing them to prove my survival or success.
What grows isn’t always what we expect.
But the act of planting again with genuine intention is already growth.
So if this blog is a recap of anything, it’s not panic, or heartbreak, or fear.
It’s this:
Returning to a place where you once struggled, and finding that you are different now.
That you can receive joy now.
That healing doesn’t have to loud and big.
It can just walk alongside you, quietly, warmly, uphill or sideways, one gentle moment at a time.
Seoul did change.
But I've also changed. A lot.
And if the goal is to experience life gently, without gripping too tightly —
then this time, Korea was nothing short of grace.
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