They (being articles, blogs, chats with friends, former world travellers, current expats, etc., etc.) promised that the summer after living in Asia would be hard, because big things had happened in my life and I wasn't the same, yet neither were my friends and family who had been living their "normal" lives this whole time. So between ending the school year in Mongolia, saying goodbye to my new friends, and packing my bags, I had time to come to the understanding that it would not be easy adjusting to American life, even though I had lived 23 of my 24 years in America. And I was prepared for this terrible time of adjustment. I was ready for tears and awkward conversations with well-meaning folks who just didn't get me and sticker shock in restaurants. I was ready to post a status on Facebook saying "Reentry sucked today - broke down in the toiletry aisle : ("
So of course none of that happened. Of course everyone has been incredibly nice and kind and they say all the right things. Of course no one told me about the TEN DAYS it would take to get over jet lag, either. Of course my "breakdown" happened in Whole Foods and it lasted all of one second, and it was either the ridiculous variety of produce OR possibly just my blood sugar dipping because I was hungry.
It's different for everyone. And I think that is an incredibly important disclaimer for anyone doing anything ever, and in this case for anyone coming back from a foreign country.
In my case, I have a new found love for exercise. I spontaneously bought a Groupon for kickboxing and have never felt so empowered. Punching and kicking a heavy bag is perhaps the most glorious form of exercise I've ever tried. Running is fun this time because it's a joy to be outside in the fresh air. On the other hand, my skin has broken out worse than ever and my body hates a lot of what I'd like to eat. On another hand (can I do that?), I haven't watched any TV because the commercials are awful and after 10 months of watching shows online, I really don't have the patience for cable, which works out because in my next apartment I won't have cable! I also LOVE when I get to use my parents' car because in case you didn't know, driving is fun. However, I also get really depressed when I can't use the car and am stuck inside. Spending the summer in a small town has had its perks, but I didn't realize how much independence I was used to. Even in Mongolia where I couldn't speak the language, I was fairly adept at just going out and doing whatever I wanted to do. Coming to the U.S. and being limited in the places I can walk to has really messed with my sense of self. Didn't expect that one!
I'm still slightly impressed every time I walk into a public restroom. They're just so clean! And I'm a little annoyed by how much English I hear all the time. I mean, what is with this place? Why can I understand every word of every conversation happening around me?
And then there are times when I just hear someone talking to me and barely respond. Or when the idea of being in public seems like far too much to ask. Like my introversion has multiplied by 10. My aversion for texting and talking on the phone has reached an unhealthy level where my closest friends will tell you I'm kind of just rude and not responding to their calls. And I don't really care.
So my re-entry hasn't been one dramatic moment or one interesting story. It's a slow process that I don't think I'll really understand until I'm far enough removed from it for hindsight to kick in. Like puberty or falling in love - only the opposite of that.
I read an article by Amy Young about transitions and being a pre or post-griever. I'm pretty sure I'm a pre-griever, getting my tears out before I actually left Mongolia. But I think what is more important is recognizing that there is grief involved in transition, and I never really knew that before.
And then recently I read this article on grief by Elena Pellizzaris and it deeply resonates:
Despite my research on reverse culture shock and re-entry and "coming home", it isn't like I expected. That's probably the point they were trying to make all along. Watch out, this is hard. Just a head's up, this is different. You could freak out and worry the people in aisle 5. Or you could just feel a small ache in the core of your being for a while.
I received a letter in the mail from a couple welcoming me back and encouraging me in the days ahead. It was exactly what I needed when I needed it. Another friend just listened to my stories and asked lots of questions about my year. Exactly what I needed when I needed it. And someday I'll be that friend to someone else.
So now I'm saying, re-entry is yet another time of surrender. Another chance to rely on the truth that our Father knows us and what we need. His love is strong even when change is unnerving. My location and vocation is different this coming year, but my calling to praise the Everlasting is forever the same. In fact, it's pretty great.
And then there are times when I just hear someone talking to me and barely respond. Or when the idea of being in public seems like far too much to ask. Like my introversion has multiplied by 10. My aversion for texting and talking on the phone has reached an unhealthy level where my closest friends will tell you I'm kind of just rude and not responding to their calls. And I don't really care.
So my re-entry hasn't been one dramatic moment or one interesting story. It's a slow process that I don't think I'll really understand until I'm far enough removed from it for hindsight to kick in. Like puberty or falling in love - only the opposite of that.
I read an article by Amy Young about transitions and being a pre or post-griever. I'm pretty sure I'm a pre-griever, getting my tears out before I actually left Mongolia. But I think what is more important is recognizing that there is grief involved in transition, and I never really knew that before.
And then recently I read this article on grief by Elena Pellizzaris and it deeply resonates:
because i know right now, i’m taking more than i’m giving.
i know i’m saying no far more often than i’m saying yes.
i know my mourning clothes look heavy, and they might make some of you a bit uncomfortable.
i know i’m restless and discontent, not satisfied with easy answers or quick fixes.
i know sometimes your words feel like they fall on deaf ears.
i know i’m being jealous of my time and of my space.
and i know that it might seem a little bit unfair.
Despite my research on reverse culture shock and re-entry and "coming home", it isn't like I expected. That's probably the point they were trying to make all along. Watch out, this is hard. Just a head's up, this is different. You could freak out and worry the people in aisle 5. Or you could just feel a small ache in the core of your being for a while.
I received a letter in the mail from a couple welcoming me back and encouraging me in the days ahead. It was exactly what I needed when I needed it. Another friend just listened to my stories and asked lots of questions about my year. Exactly what I needed when I needed it. And someday I'll be that friend to someone else.
So now I'm saying, re-entry is yet another time of surrender. Another chance to rely on the truth that our Father knows us and what we need. His love is strong even when change is unnerving. My location and vocation is different this coming year, but my calling to praise the Everlasting is forever the same. In fact, it's pretty great.
