1. The Hardest Season of My Life
There was a time when I genuinely could not see any future ahead of me. I remember carrying a single 500-won coin in my pocket while surviving on a transportation card my wife had handed me for daily bus fare. There were weeks when that fragile coin was literally all I possessed.
What made it harder was not merely the material poverty itself, but the suffocating feeling that nothing was ever getting better. People often speak of life as if everything can suddenly turn around overnight through sheer force of will. But real life rarely works that way.
The suffering did not magically vanish. It merely became slightly less intense over time. The hardest seasons eventually began to loosen their grip—just enough for me to breathe a little before the pressure returned again. I survived simply by clinging to those tiny, precious pockets of air.
2. Solitude and the Quiet Realization
Hard times also completely transformed the way I viewed relationships. I came to realize that even close family and lifelong friends cannot carry your personal cross for you. In the end, everyone is simply trying their best to survive their own private struggles. At some point, a quiet realization settled deep inside me: I was alive, so I kept going. And by continuing to endure one day at a time, somehow life itself kept moving forward.
It was not grand courage that kept me going. It was certainly not ambition, either. Most days, I simply endured one sunrise and sunset after another, and little by little, the hardest seasons slowly released their cold grip.
3. A Small Turning Point and Unexpected Peace
Years later, when I finally began receiving my national pension, I remember feeling something I had not felt in a very long time: the ability to breathe with peace. It was not a large sum of money. But the simple, reliable fact that a stable amount would arrive every single month provided an unexpected sense of dignity. Looking back, it felt almost like being connected to a quiet life-support system.
These days, I no longer chase grand ambitions or monumental success the way I once did. My heart has gradually shifted toward living more gently within the life I already possess:
- Laughing with my family without anxiety.
- Cooking simple meals with whatever ingredients are available in the kitchen.
- Occasionally sharing a modest meal out together.
- Sleeping deeply without middle-of-the-night panic.
- Protecting my mind from unnecessary conflict and stress.
Things I once dismissed as ordinary now feel strangely, profoundly precious.
4. What Remains in the End
As I grew older, I also realized something unexpected. I used to imagine that those considered “wildly successful” must be living completely different, transcendent lives. But in the end, they too eat, sleep, worry, labor, and seek comfort in the people they love. At the end of an ordinary day, perhaps we are all simply trying to carry our own lives forward in whatever way we can.
Still alive, so I keep going. And by continuing to go on, another day somehow carries itself forward. The cycle turns, again and again.
Even now, I do not possess very much. And yet, strangely enough, I no longer feel particularly unhappy or lacking. Perhaps what changed was not my external circumstances, but the way I learned to look at life itself.
Maybe a warm meal, decent sleep, and one peaceful, ordinary day are already more than enough. In the end, perhaps a human life is not so complicated after all.