We’ve officially been living in South Korea for almost four months. FOUR MONTHS. Some days it feels like we just got here, and other days I feel like I’ve been navigating these Korean hills and dodging scooters for approximately 47 years.
When we decided to move across the world, I knew life would change. Obviously. We packed up our house, said goodbye to our friends and family, put our lives into shipping containers, and moved to an island in South Korea.
What I didn’t fully appreciate was how hard it would be to find my new normal.
For 15 years, I worked at Chevron. I had a career, a purpose, a schedule, and an alarm that went off at the ungodly hour of 4:45 a.m. I spent hours commuting through Houston traffic, juggling work, kids, sports, school activities, and approximately 47 other responsibilities.
I was always busy. Always needed somewhere. Always had something to do.
And then suddenly, I didn’t.
Don’t get me wrong. I do NOT miss that 4:45 a.m. alarm. Or the Houston commute. Not even a little bit. But I do miss working. I miss my coworkers, the challenges, the routine, and having something that was mine.
Now some mornings I wake up and wonder what exactly I’m supposed to accomplish today. Sometimes I literally have to force myself to get dressed. Not because I don’t love being here, but because I’m still figuring out what my days are supposed to look like.
And that’s a strange feeling for someone who spent so many years running at full speed.
Then there’s missing our people.
We spent 16 years building a life in Texas. Friends who became family, familiar faces, school communities, and people who were part of our everyday lives. Those relationships don’t disappear because we moved, but being 14 hours ahead makes staying connected a little more complicated.
And it’s not just me.
The boys have handled this move better than I ever could have imagined. They’ve made new friends, adjusted to a new school, and are collecting awards like they’re Pokémon cards. I’m incredibly proud of them.
But they miss their friends. And watching your kids miss the people they love is hard. I can’t exactly arrange an afternoon playdate with their buddies back in Texas.
Meanwhile, we’re slowly finding our rhythm here.
I’ve gotten comfortable driving to the grocery store. Which, considering the motorcycles, scooters, hills, and road signs I can’t read, feels like a legitimate achievement.
Some days, a simple trip to the grocery store still feels like an Olympic event. Between navigating the roads, translating labels, and trying to figure out what I’m actually buying, I feel like I deserve a gold medal just for making it home with the right groceries. And honestly, sometimes I don’t even accomplish that.
But I have my favorite places, my favorite grapefruit tea, and my favorite little Portuguese tarts. I’m taking walks, exploring our island, getting involved at the boys’ school, and trying to build a routine.
Some days I feel productive. Other days my biggest accomplishment is getting dressed, buying groceries, and keeping Beaux entertained.
And you know what? Maybe that’s okay.
Of course, the Cummings Chaos hasn’t slowed down. Our sea containers finally arrived after three months, only for me to realize I apparently shipped all the wrong stuff. Sam brought home a LIVE HAMSTER for the weekend. Lee tore a ligament in his foot. And Beaux continues to believe he’s the most important member of this household.
New country. Same chaos.
But somewhere along the way, things have started to feel more familiar.
The grocery store doesn’t feel quite so intimidating. I recognize roads and landmarks. The boys are settling into school. We’re meeting new people and making memories I never imagined we’d have.
And every time I look out at the mountains and water surrounding our home, I’m reminded of how lucky we are to have this opportunity.
I am also almost 40. FORTY. Which feels like an appropriate time to move to the other side of the world and completely reinvent my daily life. Apparently, a midlife crisis wasn’t enough. I needed an international relocation to go with it.
But maybe that’s part of what this chapter is teaching me.
I can be grateful for this adventure and still miss my old life. I can love Korea and still have hard days. I can be proud of how far we’ve come and still have absolutely no idea what I’m doing tomorrow.
Maybe finding my new normal isn’t about recreating the life we had in Texas. Maybe it’s about figuring out who I am in this chapter, finding purpose in the little things, and learning that not every day needs to be packed with accomplishments.
I’m still working on that last part.
Four months down, a whole lot of adventures ahead, and apparently a lifetime supply of Korean hills to climb.
And as we always say in the Cummings house, it could always be worse.
At least my alarm isn’t going off at 4:45 a.m.
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