In 2001, I arrived in Canada with just a suitcase and big dreams. I was 28 years old, ready to start a new life in a new country. I remember that first winter morning – the cold air felt different from anything I had known in South Korea. Everything was new and strange, like learning to walk all over again.
Around me, I saw people living successful lives—earning big salaries, having important jobs, and achieving things I didn’t even know were possible. In the grocery store, at the bus stop, in office buildings downtown, I saw people who seemed to know exactly what they were doing. But for me, those dreams felt so far away, like stars in the night sky. Every night, I would look out my small apartment window and wonder, “How do they do it?”
Like many immigrants, I followed the advice I heard from others. “Go back to school. Education is the key,” they said. Even though I already had an engineering degree from South Korea, I went back to school and earned a Canadian diploma. My fingers got tired from typing new English words. My eyes burned from studying late into the night. But I didn’t give up.
The diploma helped me get a job as a technician. It was a start, but it didn’t feel like enough. I wanted more. Each morning, I would put on my work clothes and feel like I was wearing someone else’s life. I knew I could do more, be more.
Then I heard another piece of advice: “You need to network. It’s all about who you know.” I joined professional groups, trying to meet people who could help me. But the meetings felt strange, like I was acting in a play but didn’t know my lines. Everyone else seemed to speak a language I couldn’t understand – not English, but the language of belonging.
I even tried another idea—going to the company gym early in the morning, hoping the senior managers would notice how hardworking I was. At 5 AM, while the city was still sleeping, I would exercise, watching the managers through the mirror, hoping they would see something special in me. Still, nothing changed.
Years passed, and I started to feel stuck, like a bird in a cage that was too small. By the time I was in my 40s, I felt like I was running in circles. My wife, who had always been my strongest supporter, noticed how unhappy I had become. One day, while we were having dinner, she said to me, “You seem different.” Her words hit me like a rock dropping in still water. She was right. I wasn’t the person I wanted to be. I was lost in a world where I felt I had to meet other people’s expectations, but I didn’t know how.
One night, unable to sleep, I found a self-motivation challenge online. It was a 67-day program that promised to help me change my life if I stuck with it. It sounded hard—too hard. But I was desperate, like a thirsty man in the desert. I decided to try it.
Every day, I followed the program. Some days were harder than others. Sometimes I wanted to quit. But I kept going, like a farmer who plants seeds and tends them every day, waiting for them to grow. Slowly, like the sunrise after a long night, I began to see things differently.
I realized I had spent years judging myself by what society thought was important—titles, money, and other people’s opinions. But those things didn’t make me happy. They were like empty boxes wrapped in beautiful paper – pretty on the outside but hollow inside. What really mattered was how I saw myself and valued my own journey.
This change in thinking transformed my life like spring transforms a frozen lake. I started seeing opportunities I couldn’t see before. My income tripled, but that wasn’t the biggest success. The real success was that I finally appreciated myself for who I was. My struggles as an immigrant became my strength, like a tree that grows stronger because of strong winds. My experiences in two cultures became a unique gift, like having two sets of eyes to see the world.
Now, I want to share this message with others—especially immigrants and dreamers who feel stuck like I once did. Your value is not about your job title, your salary, or how well you fit into what society expects. These are just labels, like price tags on clothes. Your true value comes from being yourself, from respecting your own journey, and from deciding what success means to you.
True success isn’t about comparing yourself to others. That’s like comparing apples to stars – it makes no sense. Success is about becoming the person you are meant to be. When you learn to honor yourself and your story, success will come naturally—just like the sun rises each day.
So, I ask you: Are the ideas of success you believe in really your own? Or are they ideas someone else gave you, like borrowed clothes that don’t quite fit? Take a moment to think about it. Your journey might look different from mine, but the first step is always the same: start questioning what’s holding you back and begin creating your own definition of success.
Remember, the greatest change begins when you stop trying to prove your worth to others and start seeing it in yourself. That is where all true growth starts, like a seed breaking through the soil to reach for the sun.
Your story matters. Your journey matters. And most importantly, you matter – not because of what you achieve, but because of who you are.
