When I began working, I began meeting many people.
Through them, I came to understand my own personality more clearly.
I have always had strong preferences — clear likes and dislikes.
I speak decisively.
I offer guidance without hesitation.
For many parents, this was a relief.
My words loosened their tight grip on fear.
My clarity gave them space to breathe.
But there were others.
People who resisted my strong convictions.
People who were uncomfortable with the firmness of my perspective.
At first, almost everyone approached me with curiosity.
I was new. Different. Confident.
They listened closely.
And then, slowly, the moment came when I was no longer needed.
When I stepped away from my work.
When I moved to a different region.
When I eventually returned to Korea.
It was then that I understood something clearly.
Some people had been beside me because of what I did.
Others remained because of who I was.
There were those who needed my role —
and those who chose my presence.
Working in a foreign country, distancing myself from my child in pursuit of a career,
was meant to give me strength and identity.
Instead, it left another wound.
Not because the work was wrong,
but because I had mistaken usefulness for belonging.
”Some people stay.
Thank you, Olivia.“