;)
There's nothing to say, nothing to do, I've nothing to give, I must live without you, You know we're heading separate ways.
Last week my good friend Diane Lemieux held a book launch for her latest publication - The Mobile Life. The book is about making the choice to live overseas or outside your home country, which of course appeals to me and many of the people in my life. I have a lot of books on expatriate travel - the same pile that most of my friends have- Third Culture Kids, A Moveable Marriage, basically the whole Robin Pascoe series. In her talk, Diane smashes the myth that "Culture Shock" is a temporary situation - like an illness - that has a beginning, middle and end. She dissects the idea that at some point, the culture shock will be over and one will come out the other side healthy and better than ever. I love that she took this position, because it really resonates with me. Anyone that has ever lived overseas and moved back to their home country (and suffered reverse culture shock) knows it is not a 3 or 6 week period that you "just have to wait out" - like the chicken pox.
In my experience, culture shock never really goes away. It sneaks up on you from time to time - most often without warning and when you least expect it.
For me, it is a bit more like a parasite, one that has been lying dormant, and just when you think you are rid of it and feeling like yourself again, it knocks you off your feet. And I'm not talking about a bad experience at a restaurant or the airport. I don't miss home just because I can't find my favorite salad dressing or a good dentist. Those are temporary changes I can live with; gaps I can fill in on holiday or with a sympathetic ear from a good friend.
Lately I have found it is the permanent changes that I struggle with. The loss of time that comes with living "off the grid"- time for your career, your interests, your family back home. More importantly, it's the loss of friendships that comes with leaving your support group. The realization that despite how much you might love and commit yourself to your new life, people you care about or people you thought cared about you don't understand, or accept the changes in your life. My friend Audrey used to have this saying whenever someone let her down - "I am shocked but not surprised". I have to say, I am actually surprised. I am surprised by the comments, emails and conversations I've been subjected to since choosing this life. Thinly veiled criticisms about bringing my children here. About money. About position. Even worse - overt, hurtful comments about our choices.
Sometimes the shock - and the inevitable sadness happens because of people who share this life with me as opposed to friends from home. It can be incredibly hard to forge a friendship when both parties know the other person is leaving at some point. Two years, Three years - Who the Hell knows right? But we both know the day will come when that person disappears from your life almost as quickly as they appeared.
The last time I was home, I faced the traditional and all-too-expected "How much longer will you be there?" interrogation. I hate this question. I hate it because the wording already indicates that the person is tired of waiting (read: how much longer do I have to wait? Me Me Me..).
Truth be told, I don't want to go home. Not Yet.
But you can't tell someone that - not someone who misses you anyway. You can practically see them doing the math in their head. Wait, two more years and maybe four more after that? At which point, they are now writing you off and finding a new BFF, or at least someone to fill the void. And then, you think, Was I just a void filler all that time?
On my best day, I am really proud of the choices I make and the work I have done here. My friends here tell me how much they rely on me and my positive spirit - that I am the sympathetic ear that they need and I love that. But no matter how you deal with the Culture Shock of leaving your home, and making a new one somewhere else - somewhere strange and foreign, there are consequences. There are consequences that don't just go away after a few months of "settling in". You will lose friends. You will lose relationships. You will lose a piece of the anchor that you used to imagine when you imagined your "home" - maybe even the one thing that you relied on when you really are, in fact, homesick.
On my worst day, I have to face the fact that some of these consequences are mine to own. They are not due to a fault in the other person or their inability to understand, empathize, or wait. I chose this life - for good and bad. Sometimes that also means choosing to walk away from a relationship you thought you would have forever.
Like I said, when you least expect it.