If you live in a neighborhood in Houston where safety is a concern, the stress of worrying about gun violence is something you deal with every day.

When I lived in Korea, my biggest worry was the noise from the neighbors above me. I would just look up at the ceiling and think, "Oh no, not again." But since moving to Texas, I find myself looking out the window instead of up at the ceiling. I wonder if I can hear gunshots outside, or if the school my kids attend is really safe... I often find myself anxious every night.

As the fourth largest city in the U.S., Houston has a booming energy, healthcare, and aerospace industry, making it economically vibrant. The Korean community is well-established, so I never miss Korean food. On the surface, it seems like a place overflowing with opportunities, but lurking beneath is the shadow of 'gun incidents' that always follows my family.

Every time I turn on the local news, I hear about shootings that happened overnight. At first, I thought, "That could never happen to me," but as time goes on, I realize that it could happen to my neighbors or my family at any moment.

When I lived in a Korean apartment, I would greet my neighbors in the elevator, and my kids could play freely in the playground without worry. Here, when I send my teenagers to a friend's house or out to play, I feel tense. I keep the location tracking app on, and as soon as the sun starts to set, I call them home without fail. There are many moments when I ask myself, 'Is this really a normal life?'

Above all, the most heartbreaking issue is the school situation. The school shootings that make headlines in the U.S. are not just stories from another country. Every morning, I drop my child off at school, waving goodbye with a smile, but my heart feels heavy as I turn away. When I receive an emergency text alert from the school, my heart drops. Even if it turns out to be just a simple event notification, I often find myself so tense that I can hardly breathe.

When looking for a home, the criteria have completely changed compared to Korea. While in Korea, it was important to be near public transport and good schools, in Houston, I start by searching crime rates and statistics on gun incidents. Whether the community has a gate or if there are security guards on duty... the more safety features there are, the higher the housing prices soar, but the reality of needing to buy safety for my family is quite bitter.

Even a simple trip to the grocery store on the weekend is not what it used to be. After hearing about incidents at large shopping malls, I tend to avoid crowded places. From the moment I park my car, I start to watch my surroundings, and if the atmosphere feels even slightly off, I might just give up on shopping and leave. The desire to return home safely takes precedence over the joy of shopping.

Despite all this, the reason I can't leave Houston is clear. There are definitely many opportunities here, and it's a place where my children can see a broader world and learn about diverse cultures. The well-established Korean church and grocery store provide great support in this unfamiliar foreign life.

However, the weight I feel as a head of the family is far heavier than in Korea. It's not just about earning money; there's an instinctive burden to protect my family's lives from this invisible threat that constantly weighs on my shoulders.

Sometimes, when I talk to my friends in Korea, I hear them complain about the noise from neighbors. In those moments, I can't help but think to myself, 'What a peaceful worry that is.'

Ultimately, living as a head of the family in Houston feels like a tightrope walk between the fear of gun violence and the hope for opportunities. This is the honest inner feeling of someone living in Houston, hidden behind the glamorous American lifestyle.