Korea JoongAng Daily - Daily News from Korea

If you suffer from a condition that traps you in the past, forgetting is no longer an option.

*The series is based on the real-life experience of Kim Nam-young, a JoongAng Ilbo reporter currently living with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). The following articles are written from Kim's first-person perspective.

Itaewon is a well-known nightlife district in Yongsan District, central Seoul, and a popular spot for Halloween celebrations because of its diverse international culture. The disaster occurred during the first Halloween season after social distancing restrictions imposed during the Covid-19 pandemic had been lifted. Large crowds gathered in the area to celebrate.

As more and more people poured into the neighborhood, the crowd became dangerously packed. The situation eventually led to a crowd crush in a narrow alley, amid a lack of effective crowd-control measures, leaving some 350 people dead or injured, including 159 fatalities.

I have PTSD.

As a reporter on the social affairs desk, I covered the Itaewon disaster on Oct. 29, 2022. Since November of the following year, I have been receiving treatment regularly. I attend psychiatric counseling sessions and take medication every day.

I am only revealing the illness now, more than two years later, not because I have overcome it. This is not a story about recovery, but a record of living through the illness. To be honest, I still do not know when, or if, I will overcome it.

Instead, I want to talk about the time I have spent living alongside PTSD. Even now, I continue to work as a policy and social affairs reporter while exercising, traveling and going on with daily life.

If someone is hesitant to see a doctor, I hope this piece helps. I also hope we can become a society where people do not feel forced to hide emotional pain and trauma.

Stay alive. Cling to even the smallest straw — and remember my name.

Those are the lyrics from duo AKMU's "Fish in the Water" (2019).

For the past two and a half years, this was the song I turned to whenever I found myself asking, "Why should I keep living?"

I had always wondered what AKMU meant by saying we should hold on to even the smallest straw just to stay alive. I think I finally understand.

It was so that I could remember you — the people in Itaewon in October 2022. Simply staying alive has become my way of remembering you that day.

In some ways, I think developing PTSD after the Itaewon disaster in 2022 was inevitable.

If you suffer from a condition that traps you in the past, forgetting is no longer an option.

At first, I tried everything I could to erase my memories of the disaster. I believed that was how I would overcome the illness.

I don't think that way anymore. Instead, I've chosen to live with those memories. I've come to accept that they are part of me and part of my life.

Once I accepted this "cohabitation," it became a little easier to breathe.

Then I found myself hoping that other people, too, would find something — even the smallest straw — to hold on to. That's what led me to begin this series.

On June 1, I visited Seongsu-dong in Seongdong District, eastern Seoul.

It was my day off. So I went to a Pokémon event, excited to enjoy the day. But then fear began to creep in as enormous crowds gathered early that morning.

The narrow alleys packed with people immediately reminded me of Itaewon in October 2022. I later learned that around 40,000 people had gathered in that small Seongsu-dong neighborhood.

After making my way out of the crowd, I found my phone filled with messages from people worried about my safety. Fortunately, police stepped in quickly, the event was called off early, and no one was hurt.

Whenever I see situations like this brought under control before they become tragedies, I can't help but feel that my own sense of safety is returning, little by little.

The Sewol ferry sank on April 16, 2014. The overloaded ship capsized in waters off the southwestern coast, leaving 304 people dead, mostly te...

As fall approaches, the specter of a tragedy and its possible reoccurrence lingers while the need for remorse, accountability, and social healing remains crucial.

*The series is based on the real-life experience of Kim Nam-young, a JoongAng Ilbo reporter currently living with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). The following articles are written from Kim's first-person perspective.

Itaewon is a well-known nightlife district in Yongsan District, central Seoul, and a popular spot for Halloween celebrations because of its diverse international culture. The disaster occurred during the first Halloween weekend after social distancing restrictions imposed during the Covid-19 pandemic had been lifted. Large crowds gathered in the area to celebrate.

As more and more people poured into the neighborhood, the crowd insidiously swelled into a dangerously packed mass. The situation eventually led to a crowd crush in a narrow alley, amid a lack of effective control measures to control the on-foot traffic, leaving some 350 people dead or injured, including 159 fatalities.

I have PTSD.

As a reporter on the social affairs desk, I covered the Itaewon disaster on Oct. 29, 2022. Since November of the following year, I have been receiving treatment regularly. I attend psychiatric counseling sessions and take medication every day.

I am only revealing the illness now, more than two years later, not because I have overcome it. This is not a story about recovery, but a record of living through the illness. To be honest, I still do not know when, or if, I will overcome it.

Instead, I want to talk about the time I have spent living alongside PTSD. Even now, I continue to work as a policy and social affairs reporter while exercising, traveling and getting on with daily life.

If someone is hesitating to see a doctor, I hope this piece can help. I also hope we can become a society where people do not feel forced to hide emotional pain and trauma.

What makes horror films truly scary comes from our intrinsic fear of the unknown. The suspense comes from not knowing when, where or what will appear next.

People fear the unseen more than the monster standing in plain sight.

A faint sound echoing through the darkness, a scene that is never fully explained or an inexplicable silence all ignite the imagination. And imagination often creates something even more terrifying. At its core, fear is born of the unknown.

The same principle helps explain why, after a social disaster that leaves a society grappling with collective PTSD, people relentlessly demand the truth.

A disaster whose cause remains unknown is not a monster that has already vanished — it becomes a specter, a possibility that could return at any time.

If the cause of a tragedy and the chain of responsibility behind it are never fully uncovered, people cannot trust again that the system is understandable or predictable. They instead begin to question whether rules actually work, whether safety systems are reliable and whether anyone will act responsibly when danger arises.

At that moment, society itself turns into a horror film.

That is why uncovering the truth is about far more than revisiting the past.

It is an attempt to end a state of uncertainty and bring fear back into the realm of what can be understood and controlled.

Only when the cause of a tragedy is revealed, responsibility is established and safeguards are put in place to prevent it from happening again can people begin to let go of their fear.

The same holds true for healing the post-traumatic stress left behind by a disaster.

"Recovering a sense of safety" — that was how my psychiatrist described the goal of treating PTSD.

Recovery begins with being able to believe once again that the world beneath your feet is a safe place.

But that's not something I can do on my own.

I never imagined that so many people would die on a street in the heart of Seoul on Oct. 29, 2022. Even now, it still doesn't feel real.

But it happened, and I watche...

The National Museum of Korea opens its first large-scale Thai art exhibition on June 23, featuring rare masterpieces from 21 Thai national museums and free admission through June 30.

Standing atop a lotus pedestal, the Buddha places his left foot forward while slightly lifting his right heel. His thin monastic robe appears to flutter like a feather, drawing viewers into a serene, contemplative state.

This is the famed bronze Walking Buddha from 14th-century Thailand, one of the country's most beloved Buddhist sculptures. The 154-centimeter (5-foot) statue is known in Thai as "pang lila," meaning "graceful posture."

While most Buddhist sculptures around the world depict the Buddha seated, reclining or standing still, representations of the Buddha seemingly walking through the air are unique to Thailand's Sukhothai period (1238–1348) and its artistic successors. The work is being shown in Korea for the first time.

"Unlike Korea's Gilt-bronze Pensive Maitreya Bodhisattva, which expresses a world of contemplation, [the Walking Buddha] is a unique work of art that symbolizes the Buddha actively approaching sentient beings," said Noh Nam-hee, a curator at the National Museum of Korea.

The National Museum of Korea in Yongsan District, central Seoul, will open an exhibition featuring 239 Thai artworks on June 23. The exhibition includes sculptures, paintings and traditional crafts from 21 national museums across Thailand, including the Bangkok National Museum.

The works are featured in the special exhibition, "Amazing Thailand: Masterpieces of Thai Art," which is scheduled to run through Sept. 6. The exhibition was organized in partnership with Thailand's Fine Arts Department under the Ministry of Culture, through a memorandum of understanding that the National Museum of Korea signed in 2019.

"As K-culture spreads around the world, our perspective of the world is changing as well," said You Hong-june, the director of the National Museum of Korea, in a press briefing on June 22. "We organized this exhibition out of the belief that our own culture should also become more inclusive."

The National Museum of Korea has previously held three exhibitions on Vietnam, in 2008, 2014 and 2019, and one on Indonesia in 2005. However, this is the first large-scale exhibition dedicated to Southeast Asian art.

As Korea's first comprehensive exhibition on Thailand, the show traces the country's civilization from prehistoric times to the present day. Thailand has also lent numerous rare and significant artifacts for the occasion.

Among them is a large ninth-century Dvaravati boundary stone weighing 700 kilograms (1,543 pounds) that depicts devotees offering bundles of grass to the Buddha.

Another highlight is a 46.5-centimeter sculpture created in 1481 during the Lanna Kingdom (1292–1775) that depicts Buddha leaving footprints. Dating from a later period than the 14th-century Walking Buddha, the work appears poised to lean forward, showcasing the creativity of Thai artisans.

The former central gate of the Emerald Buddha Temple is also making its first trip overseas after years in storage at a Thai national museum.

Other highlights include Sangkhalok ceramics decorated with fish motifs, which were exported to neighboring countries from the Sukhothai period onward. The works offer a glimpse into "the flexibility and inclusiveness of Thai culture, which stood at a major crossroads of East-West trade for centuries," according to curator Kwon Kang-mi in the National Museum of Korea.

Crafts associated with Khon, Thailand's traditional masked dance drama, offer insight into the artistic patronage of the Rattanakosin Dynasty, which has ruled since 1782.

The exhibition's space design was also intentional. The interior design was inspired by the red-brick walls of historic temples and the ornate decorations of royal palace corridors.

Thailand is home to the second-largest Southeast Asian community in Korea after Vietnam and ranks as the fourth-most popular ...

A close reading of Kim Jong-un's body language and rhetoric shows how North Korea's leader rebounded from the 2019 Hanoi summit collapse to gain new leverage with China and Russia, reshaping South Korea's security environment.

[A STUDY OF KIM JONG-UN 10]

Feb. 28, 2019, is a day North Korean leader Kim Jong-un will never forget. It is the date of the "no deal Hanoi summit," in which U.S. President Donald Trump walked out of negotiations in Vietnam, an insult the North Korean leader had never experienced before. Could Kim himself have ever imagined that, just over six years later, he would stand shoulder to shoulder with the leaders of China and Russia at the viewing gallery of Tiananmen Square in Beijing in September last year?

Kim's elevated strategic status is a reality. He is no longer in a hurry. Even if Trump sends another overture, his new position would be to casually ignore it. How did the young leader of Northeast Asia's poorest nation, once treated merely as a joke, reach his current position? What choices did Kim make to overcome the failure of the Hanoi summit, and how has North Korea changed as a result of those choices? How has this change altered South Korea's security environment? We must now deal with a Kim of a different caliber. That is why we must study him now. - Ed.

It was China's massive Victory Day celebration at Tiananmen Square in Beijing on Sept. 3 last year.

North Korean leader Kim Jong-un, Chinese President Xi Jinping and Russian President Vladimir Putin stood side by side on the rostrum overlooking the 80th anniversary ceremony.

Kim, finally taking the spot where his grandfather, a figure regarded almost as god-like in North Korea, had stood more than 70 years earlier, must have — in a single breath — felt the passage of eras.

Progressives blame Yoon Suk Yeol for North Korea's hostility. But the enmity goes back further.

Bright lights, red city: North Korean leader Kim keeps Pyongyang lit while the rest of the country remains in darkness

'Arms ablaze, they still charged': Ukrainian forces stunned by North Korea's 'meat assaults'

As Kim Jong-un extends one hand, he beckons with the other for nuclear development

Foreign media also took note of Kim standing as an equal alongside Xi and Putin.

Bloomberg assessed that Kim's presence "marks another milestone in his transformation from isolated pariah to a global player benefiting from strengthened ties with his allies."

Within the existing framework of North Korea-China-Russia solidarity, North Korea had been more of a dependent variable, buffeted by the strategic decisions of China and Russia. But now it has reinvented itself as an equal partner, shouldering one of the pillars of an anti-American coalition.

What was particularly striking was the moment Kim gestured toward Xi and struck up a conversation as the DF-61 (Dongfeng-61) intercontinental ballistic missile passed during the military parade — a scene that encapsulated how dramatically Kim's standing had shifted in just a few years. Had it been the deferential Kim Jong-un of 2018, when inter-Korean, North Korea-U.S. and trilateral summits were in full swing, such an attitude toward Xi would have been unimaginable.

In just seven years, everything about Kim Jong-un's demeanor toward Xi Jinping had changed — down to where his eyes focused and what they conveyed.

Kim was saying with his body that he would no longer stand behind anyone or cast his eyes downward before them.

An analysis of six North Korea-China summits found unmistakable shifts in the way Kim carries himself before Xi.

Kim Yeo-jeong, CEO of Jium & Gitdeum, a personal branding research institute specializing in nonverbal behavior, assessed that "Kim Jong-un's attitude toward Xi has gradually shifted from a junior seeking support to an equal strategic partner."

From behind Xi to beside him

The JoongAng Ilbo, together with Jium & Gitdeum, conducted a focused analysis of the interactions between the two leaders across six summits — begi...

The boy band launched its first Asia tour with two concerts, showcasing its signature youthful energy alongside new unit performances that revealed the group's growing musical range.

Youth was prevalent in every form possible at K-pop boy band TWS's kickoff concert for its Asia tour at the KSPO Dome in Songpa District, southern Seoul, on Sunday.

There was the bubbly kind, the grungy kind, the romantic kind and, of course, the emotional kind. Whichever form it took, however, it sure drew deafening roars from its fans, collectively known as 42, a homonym for the Korean word for relationship.

The tour, titled "24/7:FOR:YOU," marks the six-member band's debut at KSPO Dome, a venue widely regarded as a milestone for K-pop acts because of its sizable 15,000-seat capacity. TWS, only two and a half years into its career, managed to sell out both of its shows at the dome on Saturday and Sunday, according to its agency, Pledis Entertainment, a label under HYBE.

"It is our first concert at the KSPO Dome, which makes this concert much more meaningful," said TWS leader Shinyu. "It's all because of you guys '42!"

TWS member Dohoon also likened the KSPO Dome debut to something he had always "dreamed of," adding that "of the maybe 18,000 people gathered here, I'm probably the most excited."

The concert opened with the six members — Shinyu, Dohoon, Jihoon, Hanjin, Youngjae and Kyungmin — making a dramatic entrance as they descended onto the center stage from inside screens designed to resemble a giant gift box. As the ribbon unraveled on the screen, the members emerged in Prince Charming-style jackets studded with crystals.

In the opening set, featuring tracks such as "hey! hey!" (2024), "Overdrive" (2025) and "overthinking" (2025), TWS did what it does best: embracing youth. With upbeat rhythms, harmless lyrics and playful choreography — including the signature shoulder-shaking move from "Overdrive" — the group's trademark bubbly energy was on full display.

The mood shifted, although not for long, when the six members unveiled unreleased tracks as units.

Jihoon and Kyungmin staged a high-octane rock-infused track titled "Shift," where the duo utilized handkerchiefs for a charismatic choreography. Admitting to being "extremely nervous" for the stage, the duo said they put real effort into putting together this performance by researching everything down to the fabric of the handkerchiefs.

Youngjae and Hanjin sang a ballad called "To You Who Have Endured Long Night" (translated), which both members participated in composing and writing the lyrics to. The lyrics reflect upon their hard days as trainees, Hanjin said, especially as a member having come over from China.

The standout among the unit performances was undoubtedly Shinyu and Dohoon's "How Did You Do That," a hard-hitting hip-hop track that showcased a completely different side of TWS. Grungy styling, swagger-filled choreography and cocky lyrics were a far cry from the group's signature youthful image but at the same time exactly the kind of unexpected transformation fans had been eager to see.

Throughout the more than three hours of show time, TWS's moves, vocals and interaction with the 42s were without flaws. Notably, the live vocals matched so perfectly with the record that it almost felt like lip-syncing. The heavy breathing after each performance was the only "flaw" proving they were live singing the songs.

As the members made final comments, Shinyu and Jihoon broke down in tears in appreciation towards the members and fans for making this moment possible.

"Thank you for being my dream," Shinyu said.

TWS is scheduled to perform 15 shows across eight Asian cities over the coming months, with its next stop set for Fukuoka, Japan, from Aug. 28 to 30.

BY JIN EUN-SOO [[email protected]]

A decade-long analysis of North Korean state media suggests Pyongyang 's break with Seoul started after the collapse of the 2019 Hanoi summit, when liberal South Korean President Moon Jae-in was in office.

[A STUDY OF KIM JONG-UN 9]

On the night of Sept. 19, 2018, at the Rungrado 1st of May Stadium on Rungra Island in Pyongyang, then-President Moon Jae-in stood before 150,000 cheering North Koreans.

After watching a mass games performance, Moon took the stage at the introduction of North Korean leader Kim Jong-un. His face was flushed with emotion. A smile spread across his face, reflecting both the elation of having personally steered the Korean Peninsula to what appeared to be the pinnacle of peace and the optimism that accompanied it.

Moon embraced the deafening cheers reverberating through the enormous stadium. His roughly seven-minute speech was interrupted by applause 12 times.

When he declared, "Kim Jong-un and I have pledged to make our beautiful land, from Mount Paektu to Mount Halla, a permanent home of peace free from nuclear weapons and nuclear threats, and pass it on to future generations," the stadium once again erupted in thunderous applause.

That night, North and South Korea appeared united, and Moon's dream seemed on the verge of becoming reality.

But the cheers of that day turned into insults just 11 months later.

"It is enough to make even a boiled cow's head burst into laughter."

This statement, made in August 2019 by a spokesperson for North Korea's Committee for the Peaceful Reunification of the Fatherland, a state agency that aimed to promote reunification, stunned both the Moon administration and the South Korean public. The statement went on to deride Moon as a "shameless person" and someone who was "laughable beyond measure."

A day earlier, Moon had promoted the idea of a "peace economy" in his Liberation Day speech on Aug. 15. Pyongyang responded by mocking him, using South Korea-U.S. joint military exercises as a pretext. As a prolonged period of strained inter-Korean relations followed, the phrase "boiled cow's head" became an enduring label attached to assessments of the Moon administration's North Korea policy.

In retrospect, the episode also served as a chilling foreshadowing of Kim 's doctrine of severing ties with South Korea and redefining it as an enemy.

Some in South Korea's progressive camp argue that the hardline North Korea policy of the subsequent Yoon Suk Yeol administration laid the groundwork for Pyongyang's "hostile two-state" doctrine.

One typical view, articulated by Jeong Tae-heung, head of policy at a research institute affiliated with South Korea's left wing Progressive Party, is that "the United States has been strengthening its New Cold War strategy, and the Yoon administration followed suit by intensifying hostile policies toward North Korea," and that this "became the direct cause of North Korea's declaration of a hostile two-state relationship and the resulting escalation of war risks."

Given that Kim first unveiled the hostile two-state doctrine at a Workers' Party plenary meeting at the end of 2023 and that inter-Korean tensions remained elevated throughout the Yoon administration, the argument appears persuasive.

But was Kim's declaration of a "struggle against the enemy" really nothing more than a passive response to policy changes in Seoul?

Big data tells a very different story.

Language data showed that the watershed moment in the breakdown of inter-Korean relations occurred not under the Yoon administration, but during the Moon administration.

There was also a reason Kim later doubled down on the enmity, even after the inauguration of the current Lee Jae Myung administration, by declaring that South Korea was "the most hostile state" and by expressing a sense of betrayal in rhetoric suggesting that it made little difference whether Seoul was governed by — in the words of Kim 's powerful sister, Kim Yo-jong — those "claiming to be democrats" or those "wearing t...

What was once career kryptonite, at least for a year and a half or so, is now little more than an inconvenience for fans as celebrities go into enlistment with stockpiles of content.

For most K-pop stars, mandatory military service brings careers to a screeching halt, at least temporarily.

Park Ji-hoon, however, isn't dreading the pause in the slightest, even as he begins to reach new heights.

The idol-turned-actor is enjoying some of the busiest days of his career, coming off the back-to-back success of the film "The King's Warden" and the recently wrapped comedy series "The Legend of Kitchen Soldier." But conscription is fast approaching.

Like all able-bodied Korean men, Park must eventually serve. Rather than push the deadline as far back as possible, however, the 27-year-old says he will enlist voluntarily, even though he could delay his service until 2027, with hopes of joining the Marine Corps, which has a lower maximum age for recruits.

"I'm not really afraid of the military hiatus," Park told reporters during an interview on June 2.

These days, he said, actors and idols often prepare for the absence by filming projects in advance.

"When those projects air while they're serving, people sometimes get the feeling of, 'Wait, he's already back?'" he said with a smile.

Park has yet to settle on detailed plans, but that, he said, would be the ideal scenario.

His ease reflects a broader shift across Korea's entertainment industry.

For male entertainers in Korea — especially K-pop idols — mandatory military service has long been one of the industry's most dreaded disruptions, both for stars and their fans. A hiatus once meant a near-total absence — no performances, no fan meetings and no steady stream of content, as soldiers are barred from profit-making activities while in service.

But the landscape has changed. Military service no longer necessarily means disappearing from public view. Instead, it has produced a new kind of hiatus — one carefully filled with prerecorded songs, filmed content, social media posts, documentaries and behind-the-scenes footage, all planned like part of a promotional schedule. The result is a pause that feels less absolute, helping stars stay present in the minds of fans until they return.

Boy band Seventeen's Hoshi enlisted in the Army on Sept. 16 last year, three months after turning 29. Yet on June 15 of this year, while still serving, the idol-turned-soldier released a new single, "Snap Back," a self-written pop track, marking his 30th birthday.

According to behind-the-scenes footage released later, Hoshi recorded the song on June 12 of last year, almost exactly a year before its release, as part of a broader stockpile of content prepared for his hiatus, which is scheduled to last until March 15 of next year.

Korea's Framework Act on Military Status and Service bars soldiers from engaging in any work for profit other than military duties, but when albums, dramas, variety show appearances, social media posts and behind-the-scenes footage are planned, contracted, recorded or filmed before enlistment, agencies can release them later, even while the artists themselves are physically serving on military bases.

That distinction has become increasingly important as more stars remain visible during service.

In March, Fantagio, the agency of idol-turned-actor Cha Eun-woo, had to clarify that a photo exhibition in Japan scheduled during his military service did not violate the rules. The agency said the exhibition had been contracted in August 2024, before Cha's enlistment in July of last year, and that it had confirmed the matter with the Ministry of National Defense in advance. Cha himself would not attend the event, the agency said.

While the Korean public now relatively readily accepts the release of content during stars' conscription, the boundary was less settled a few years earlier.

EXO's Baekhyun, who served as a social agent from May 2021 to February 2023, prepared enough YouTube content ...

Hidden triggers, from abandoned shoes to the Jeju Air crash, continued to reopen my trauma. But treatment helped me endure.

*The series is based on the real-life experience of Kim Nam-young, a JoongAng Ilbo reporter currently living with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). The following articles are written from Kim's first-person perspective.

I have PTSD.

Itaewon is a well-known nightlife district in Yongsan District, central Seoul, and a popular spot for Halloween celebrations because of its diverse international culture. The disaster occurred during the first Halloween weekend after social distancing restrictions imposed during the Covid-19 pandemic had been lifted. Large crowds gathered in the area to celebrate.

As more and more people poured into the neighborhood, the crowd insidiously swelled into a dangerously packed mass. The situation eventually led to a crowd crush in a narrow alley, amid a lack of effective control measures to control the on-foot traffic, leaving some 350 people dead or injured, including 159 fatalities.

As a reporter on the social affairs desk, I covered the Itaewon disaster on Oct. 29, 2022. Since November of the following year, I have been receiving treatment regularly. I attend psychiatric counseling sessions and take medication every day.

I am only revealing the illness now, more than two years later, not because I have overcome it. This is not a story about recovery, but a record of living through the illness. To be honest, I still do not know when, or if, I will overcome it.

Instead, I want to talk about the time I have spent living alongside PTSD. Even now, I continue to work as a policy and social affairs reporter while exercising, traveling and getting on with daily life.

If someone is hesitating to see a doctor, I hope this piece can help. I also hope we can become a society where people do not feel forced to hide emotional pain and trauma.

When I was young, there was an old computer game called Minesweeper.

It was simple. Players clicked squares one by one while trying to avoid hidden mines. The tension came from not knowing where the mines might be; you could spend minutes carefully navigating the board, only for a single thoughtless click to bring everything crashing down.

My life after PTSD became much like that game. But unlike the game, there were no warning signs of latent mines.

On the surface, it looked like any other ordinary day. But lived never knowing when or where I might step on a hidden mine. No matter how careful I was, they appeared where I least expected them.

A scene I would normally pass without a second thought or an object I once considered insignificant could suddenly turn my world upside down. In an instant, I would find myself back in the past.

For people with PTSD, these everyday mines are called triggers. A trigger is anything that brings a traumatic memory rushing back and makes a person relive it. Triggers are deeply personal. What seems insignificant to people can be overwhelming for someone living with PTSD.

I also had to confront my own triggers. From shoes appearing in films to the Jeju Air disaster, certain reminders were impossible to avoid, pulling me back and forth between the present and the past.

There were times when I felt overwhelmed by the fear that I was being dragged back to the very beginning of the Itaewon disaster all over again.

This article contains references to the October 2022 Itaewon disaster and the December 2024 Jeju Air crash. Descriptions of disaster scenes, rescue efforts and emotional and physical reactions may cause distress or psychological discomfort for some readers. If you have experienced similar events or are currently struggling emotionally, consider taking a break from reading or seeking support. Professional help is available through mental health clinics and counseling services.

A trigger can be anything from a single object to a whole situation.

For someone who survived a car accident, items inside a vehicle...

*The series is based on the real-life experience of Kim Nam-young, a JoongAng Ilbo reporter currently living with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). The following articles are written from Kim's first-person perspective.

I have PTSD.

Itaewon is a well-known nightlife district in Yongsan District, central Seoul, and a popular spot for Halloween celebrations because of its diverse international culture. The disaster occurred during the first Halloween weekend after social distancing restrictions imposed during the Covid-19 pandemic had been lifted. Large crowds gathered in the area to celebrate.

As more and more people poured into the neighborhood, the crowd insidiously swelled into a dangerously packed mass. The situation eventually led to a crowd crush in a narrow alley, amid a lack of effective control measures to control the on-foot traffic, leaving some 350 people dead or injured, including 159 fatalities.

As a reporter on the social affairs desk, I covered the Itaewon disaster on Oct. 29, 2022. Since November of the following year, I have been receiving treatment regularly. I attend psychiatric counseling sessions and take medication every day.

I am only revealing the illness now, more than two years later, not because I have overcome it. This is not a story about recovery, but a record of living through the illness. To be honest, I still do not know when, or if, I will overcome it.

Instead, I want to talk about the time I have spent living alongside PTSD. Even now, I continue to work as a policy and social affairs reporter while exercising, traveling and getting on with daily life.

If someone is hesitating to see a doctor, I hope this piece can help. I also hope we can become a society where people do not feel forced to hide emotional pain and trauma.

Identifying the illness was only the first step; treatment was the next, much harder one, sending on a winding road as I tried different activities in search of stillness and catharsis.

The one thing I held onto throughout my long struggle with PTSD was consistency.

Yes, my partner and friends were always there for me, and yes, I went to the hospital once or twice a month. But no one could be by my side all the time.

In other words, most of the time, I was alone.

When I suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe for no specific reason, I had to handle it on my own.

To deal with the symptoms that appeared out of nowhere, I had to consistently find coping strategies that worked for me.

So I tried everything I could think of. Meditation, futsal, running and donating to charity. I tried to move more, calm my mind and even tried to do something good.

But those efforts did not always work. And this is only my story. Even among people with the same condition, effective coping mechanisms differ from person to person.

I discussed every method I tried with my psychiatrist because I wanted to know whether I was heading in the right direction.

There was one thing that never seemed to work for me: meditation.

In fact, meditation was the first thing my psychiatrist recommended, saying it could help relax a body stuck in a perpetual state of high alert.

The recommendation was so sincere that the doctor even wrote down instructions by hand and gave them to me on a note. Grateful for the effort, I tried several times.

But each attempt ended in failure.

The technique I was encouraged to practice was mindfulness meditation, which involves letting thoughts pass by and focusing on present sensations and emotions.

The problem was that I could never simply let thoughts go by.

Once I held onto one, it led to another, then another. And when I finally managed to clear my mind, I fell asleep instead. Rather than becoming quieter, my mind became even noisier. I even attended meditation classes, but in the end, it just was not for me.

That said, numerous studies suggest mindfulness meditation can be beneficial for people with PTSD.

Mindfulness-based therapy can significantly reduce avoidance, hyper...

Seoul's Gold Pig Restaurant has become Korea's most coveted barbecue spot through premium pork, exacting grill technique and a celebrity following from BTS to Donald Trump Jr.

BTS, G-Dragon, Blackpink and IU.

These A-list K-pop stars have all been spotted dining at this place.

The list doesn't end there.

Hollywood actors Chris Hemsworth and James Franco, American rapper Kanye West and British football icon David Beckham have all been there. More recently, Donald Trump Jr. was seen dining there.

So what is this outrageously coveted spot?

It's the Gold Pig Restaurant, a Seoul barbecue diner renowned for its premium pork cuts.

There are countless decent samgyeopsal (pork belly) restaurants in Seoul, but none match the fame of Gold Pig. You'll end up waiting behind 30 or more teams whenever you go, even if you arrive before opening time or on a slow day. The restaurant does not take reservations, meaning the only way to secure a table is to get in line and wait.

The Gold Pig is celebrating its 10th anniversary this year. What started out humbly on the first floor of a three-story building in Yaksu-dong, a gritty neighborhood in central Seoul, now occupies the entire building.

Despite the expansion, the eatery still can't accommodate all the customers who want a seat.

"The meat quality of our restaurant is undoubtedly top-notch, but what I believe makes the difference at a barbecue restaurant is the grilling technique," said Park Soo-kyung, founder and CEO of Gold Pig Restaurant.

"We pay the most attention to staff training. If they don't understand the grill and fire, I don't believe they can serve the customers."

Their signature cuts are "Bone Pork Belly" and "Pork Neck."

Pork Neck requires skill when grilling because it has little fat. Even when slightly overcooked, it can get overly firm and dry.

Park's path to building one of Korea's most sought-after barbecue joints was not easy. In her 20s, she began by selling fruit juice at Dongdaemun Market. Over the next six years, she tried her hand at some 20 different businesses before eventually finding success with the samgyeopsal restaurant.

"When working in a market, you instantly notice what people like and where they gather. Feedback there is also very fast," the 41-year-old said. "When I have an idea, I have to do it to see how it turns out. It's my personality."

The last job she had at the market was delivering samgyeopsal to vendors.

"They didn't have time to go to a restaurant to grab lunch or dinner, so I figured I would deliver pork barbecue when it was still warm. The business was a success. It earned me enough money to pay back some 200 million won [$130,000] of debt I had and a little more to start another business."

This last business gave her an opportunity to gain a deep understanding of the meat.

Afterward, she continued to perform extensive research into it.

The result of those years of experimentation and research is evident in every aspect of Gold Pig Restaurant — from its grill plates and ventilation system to its rigorous staff training, carefully selected cuts of meat and thoughtfully curated side dishes.

One of the Gold Pig's signature touches is serving its pork with fresh basil leaves. In Korea, basil is more commonly associated with Western dishes such as salads, pasta and pizza. But Park thought outside the box.

Park says basil leaves were her hidden weapon even before opening the restaurant. She has done multiple tests with various herbs and green leaves, including coriander, but basil leaves were the perfect match.

"I first discovered the pairing while traveling in Thailand," she said. "That's where I learned that basil enhances the flavor of grilled meat. The herb's aroma refreshes the palate after a bite of rich pork, but what I really love is grilling the basil itself. Once it hits the heat, the fragrance is simply incredible."

The Gold Pig recently added hanwoo (high-end Korean beef) skirt steak and hanwoo yukhoe (raw sliced meat) to its men...