It's been just about three months since we've repatriated...and at this point in the journey...the best words I can think of to summarize this whole process thus far are...rough, challenging, groundless, and just plain weird.
As I was running today, I was thinking a bit about my first three months in Japan...and the thoughts, emotions, accomplishments, and challenges that I was experiencing during that time. I remember the initial 'honeymoon period' - with everything being new; the intense homesickness; the culture shock; the fatigue; and, the simple satisfaction of surviving the day. Sure, in many ways, I am looking back through rose-colored glasses; however, I'm well aware that those first three months were difficult. And yet, these three months actually feel more difficult.
For some reason, in my mind (and in my perception of what other people think), the phrase "I'm moving to Japan" elicits a whole different set of thoughts, judgments, and expectations than "I'm moving to Texas." It sounds more difficult; more scary; and a whole lot more exciting...at least in my book. I would expect someone who just moved to Japan to struggle as much as I did; and yet, I don't think I expected myself to struggle this much with the move to Texas...if that makes any sense?!
To be honest, I don't feel like "I've returned home." And, maybe that's because in many ways...I haven't. I've returned to my "home country" - but to a place that feels entirely foreign to me. Foreign in a different sense than moving to Japan...and yet...still foreign.
The first month was definitely full of many "Oh wait, I'm back in America" moments...which quickly became normal again. Things like being shocked that I could understand what people were saying and read text everywhere I looked. The world felt louder, busier, and more overwhelming...it still does, in many ways. Or having the urge to walk places only to remember/realize just how far everything is from each other. During our first few days, before we got our car, Kaz and I walked to several stores. You should have seen the looks we got - as I'm sure people were wondering what on Earth we were doing. Even things like the ways in which processes had changed caught me off guard. For example, most stores got 'chip readers' while we were gone - so you can imagine the weird looks I got when I tried to swipe my credit card over and over.
One of the many interesting realizations that I made during these moments is that since I look American...and am American...it's not obvious as to the reason I'm having difficulty with something. In Japan, a quick glance in my direction was all the explanation anyone needed as to why I was acting strange or doing something wrong. And yes, that did often drive me crazy - as I know 'wanting to blend in' was something I wanted and thought about weekly...if not daily.
In that first month back, we were living in a hotel; we were house searching; I was job searching; we were catching up with family and friends; and, it all felt like one big whirlwind. A temporary whirlwind. Kind of like when we would come home for a few weeks each year. It also felt new...and with that "newness" came a bit more patience and forgiveness of myself initially as well as the unspoken expectation that things would begin to fall in to place...quickly.
And yes, many 'things' did happen quickly. After about a month, we found, bought, and moved into our new house. Kaz began settling into his job. We bought cars, began to figure out the area, and I continued the process of job searching, applying, and networking as much as possible. All the while, we were also packing up our house in Kentucky, moving those belongings down to Texas, and getting our house ready to sell. And, on top of those moves, my dad was also in the process of cleaning, organizing, and getting my childhood home ready to sell as well.
While the whole not having a job when we arrived in Texas/not being able to find a job quickly has been quite the struggle for me, it has allowed me the flexibility to travel to the Midwest for about a week each month to handle the moves. And, with those trips, has come time spent with family and friends. Those moments...in all of this craziness...is when I've felt the most 'home.' While it's obvious that many things have changed over the past two years, it's also felt so natural to 'fit back in.' Life feels familiar...people feel familiar...and with this familiarity comes a feeling of being able to 'handle' this transition back a bit better. My friends and I have joked that these monthly visits are prolonging the denial that I've moved to Texas even more...because at this point, they are seeing me more than when I was in Japan...and honestly, perhaps a bit more than some points when I was actually living in Cincinnati.
It's interesting because it's when I'm in Michigan or Cincinnati that I feel the most able to process the move back from Japan. It's in those moments that I remember I've just repatriated from two years spent in a foreign country. Perhaps it's because we moved to Japan from Cincinnati - and so the memories of preparing, moving, visiting, and returning are tied to that place and people...in a way. Or, perhaps it's that Michigan and Cincinnati are familiar - and so I have a bit more mental energy to process things. Unlike in Texas where everything is new and I feel so incredibly distant from Japan and my time there.
This most recent return to Texas has definitely been the most difficult for me. Perhaps it's knowing that I only have one more trip back to Cincinnati that I have to take - and then all the 'odds and ends' will be tied up. Any trip back after that will be as a visitor. So, the emotions tied to 'leaving Cincinnati' and my life there are now pairing with 'leaving Japan' and my life there. And, I know when I return to Michigan next week for a family wedding, I won't be staying at my childhood home. And while I haven't actually lived in Michigan in years...that house - filled with years and years of memories - has always been home. All of this makes me think about the concept of 'home' - what it means, what it is tied to, and the ingrained desire of all humans to 'have' it.
Now that the big tasks on our 'To Do' list are dwindling down, the reality of establishing a life in Texas has also begun to sink in. This place is going to be our home...permanently...or at least for a long time. So, while a huge part of me wants to sprint back to my life in Japan or Cincinnati...I know that's not possible...or realistic. It's interesting...in these moments of newness and groundlessness...it's easy to long for normalcy, familiarity, and routine. You forget the things about the place that drove you nuts...you forget the struggles you experienced...and in ways, you idealize what that place was. However, it's not that I am sitting here missing Cincinnati or Japan as a place, exactly...instead, I'm missing the people...It's always the people, isn't it?! And, I also miss the person that I was in those places (at times). Not that I'm not that person now; however, this whole process has made me realize what a huge role identity can play in one's life.
For me, the biggest area of identity in which I find myself struggling is my professional identity. My career has always been important to me...and the events of the last few years has shown me that even more clearly. I moved to Cincinnati for a job. I worked for six years to grow, learn, and figure out more clearly what felt the most "me" within my field. Then, as we prepared to move to Japan, I struggled with letting go of that job. In Japan, I started over in a sense - and yet, thanks to lots of taking chances (on many people's parts) - I was able to establish a job that I loved and enjoyed. And, just as I was feeling settled, it was time to move again. So, now I find myself - once again starting over. And, it's been challenging.
I know that I'm in a big city. And, I know there should be a lot of opportunities. And, I know that I should be able to find a job easily. And yet, here I am, three months later...still trying to figure out exactly what I want to do. I know that I'm being picky. Eight years into being an SLP means I have a much clearer view of what I want/what I don't want...and perhaps less willingness to 'let things develop.' There are pros and cons to that fact!
I've always thought about starting a private practice...and while now seems like a good time to do so...I also realize that being in a completely new place and not knowing anyone/not having anyone know me may make the process a bit more complicated. And yet, I'm still pulled toward it. I struggle with the fact that beginning a private practice will take time, which means that I won't be jumping in to a full caseload of clients for who knows how long. And yet, I feel myself wanting that...now! I find myself becoming increasingly frustrated with daily tasks - running errands, unpacking, making phone calls, etc. I know it's because there's no feeling of balance for me. If I was working during the day - and feeling useful professionally - I think it would be easier to handle these types of tasks in the evenings and on the weekends. If that makes any sense?!
Luckily, in all of this, I've been able to continue working with many of my students in Japan via Telehealth. And those sessions are intense reminders of how much I love what I do! Last week, in the span of one day...I found myself sobbing after an afternoon of feeling useless...and feeling on top of the world after three wonderful sessions with my students.
Texas has also been lonely. In a different way than Japan was lonely. In Japan, I struggled a lot with meeting people - at least initially. A lot of that was me struggling with leaving my family and friends; and a lot of that was me being resistant to meeting people through organized events. And yet, almost all of the friends I made in Japan were in the same boat as me. They weren't from Japan - they didn't have a family/friend network - and they were trying to find their niche and their people too. And so, they bonded together...formed groups...and invited others into those groups. There was an unspoken (and often spoken) understanding that united us all - regardless of background or where we had come from. A diverse group more similar than different.
It's not like that here. I mean, I'm sure there are people who are new to the area...longing to meet others and form connections. It's just not as obvious. There aren't groups. You have to really work to meet people. Especially if you're not working or planning to work from home. Luckily, my cousin and her family live nearby - and time with them has been both a saving grace and a huge sense of comfort since we arrived. I realized today - that although Japan helped me to become much more comfortable with alone time...to the point where I often find comfort in those moments...I could easily go through weeks or months here without meeting anyone and that might be a little too much alone time. I need people and I need people to need me. I suppose we all do!
At this point in my life, I also recognize that I am also a bit tired of all the work that goes in to meeting people....as awful as that sounds. I have an amazing family and really wonderful group of close friends, who've become family over the years. And, it's those relationships that I want to put my time and energy into. Yet, as much as I hate to admit it, distance can often make this challenging. When I was in Japan, I missed my family and friends in the US a lot. And, in a lot of ways, being back with all of them kept me going for those two years away. Now I'm back...and I want to go back to talking/seeing them all on a much more frequent basis...yet, I'm still so far away. Sure, I'm in the same country...but I'm still not there. So to them, not much has changed...and to me, everything has. And on top of missing my friends around the US, I am now struggling with the intense sense of missing the friends I made in Japan. Last week, the community suffered a huge tragedy...and I've never felt so helpless and so far away. Knowing that they are hurting and not being able to be there with them has been awful in so many ways.
And while I know that my friendships are solid - and that we tend to pick up right where we left off when we talk, Skype, or see each other...it's those daily interactions that I've come miss the most, I think. Just being there with people - experiencing daily life together. Allowing things to happen as they will. The little things...that over time add up to big things. Perhaps that's the price we pay at times for forming such strong, meaningful, and lasting friendships with people all over the world. And for all that those friendships bring to my life, I'm willing to pay that price. It just really suck sometimes!
I suppose that brings me to where I am at this moment in the whole repatriation journey. Feeling far away, missing people, drowning in change, struggling with identity, searching for home, and a whole slew of other things. It's a lot...and yet, it's all part of the journey. We all have our journeys, right?! And while they may be different, they are full of both sunny and cloudy moments.
And so, as this journey continues, I am trying to remind myself to be patient. Just like I would tell anyone else in this situation. To let go of the expectations and the 'shoulds.' To take risks, put myself out there...and, to give things time. To feel the grief of losing a place, people, familiarity and the gratitude for those people and experiences all in the same moment. To take all that I've seen, felt, lived, and learned - and let it fill those moments of groundlessness and fear. And most importantly to keep moving...all the while being open to the opportunities and experiences that arise. Knowing full well that with time I will look back on these days, weeks, and months as ones of learning, growth, and exploration. Just like I have with other journeys in my life!
While the whole not having a job when we arrived in Texas/not being able to find a job quickly has been quite the struggle for me, it has allowed me the flexibility to travel to the Midwest for about a week each month to handle the moves. And, with those trips, has come time spent with family and friends. Those moments...in all of this craziness...is when I've felt the most 'home.' While it's obvious that many things have changed over the past two years, it's also felt so natural to 'fit back in.' Life feels familiar...people feel familiar...and with this familiarity comes a feeling of being able to 'handle' this transition back a bit better. My friends and I have joked that these monthly visits are prolonging the denial that I've moved to Texas even more...because at this point, they are seeing me more than when I was in Japan...and honestly, perhaps a bit more than some points when I was actually living in Cincinnati.
It's interesting because it's when I'm in Michigan or Cincinnati that I feel the most able to process the move back from Japan. It's in those moments that I remember I've just repatriated from two years spent in a foreign country. Perhaps it's because we moved to Japan from Cincinnati - and so the memories of preparing, moving, visiting, and returning are tied to that place and people...in a way. Or, perhaps it's that Michigan and Cincinnati are familiar - and so I have a bit more mental energy to process things. Unlike in Texas where everything is new and I feel so incredibly distant from Japan and my time there.This most recent return to Texas has definitely been the most difficult for me. Perhaps it's knowing that I only have one more trip back to Cincinnati that I have to take - and then all the 'odds and ends' will be tied up. Any trip back after that will be as a visitor. So, the emotions tied to 'leaving Cincinnati' and my life there are now pairing with 'leaving Japan' and my life there. And, I know when I return to Michigan next week for a family wedding, I won't be staying at my childhood home. And while I haven't actually lived in Michigan in years...that house - filled with years and years of memories - has always been home. All of this makes me think about the concept of 'home' - what it means, what it is tied to, and the ingrained desire of all humans to 'have' it.
Now that the big tasks on our 'To Do' list are dwindling down, the reality of establishing a life in Texas has also begun to sink in. This place is going to be our home...permanently...or at least for a long time. So, while a huge part of me wants to sprint back to my life in Japan or Cincinnati...I know that's not possible...or realistic. It's interesting...in these moments of newness and groundlessness...it's easy to long for normalcy, familiarity, and routine. You forget the things about the place that drove you nuts...you forget the struggles you experienced...and in ways, you idealize what that place was. However, it's not that I am sitting here missing Cincinnati or Japan as a place, exactly...instead, I'm missing the people...It's always the people, isn't it?! And, I also miss the person that I was in those places (at times). Not that I'm not that person now; however, this whole process has made me realize what a huge role identity can play in one's life. For me, the biggest area of identity in which I find myself struggling is my professional identity. My career has always been important to me...and the events of the last few years has shown me that even more clearly. I moved to Cincinnati for a job. I worked for six years to grow, learn, and figure out more clearly what felt the most "me" within my field. Then, as we prepared to move to Japan, I struggled with letting go of that job. In Japan, I started over in a sense - and yet, thanks to lots of taking chances (on many people's parts) - I was able to establish a job that I loved and enjoyed. And, just as I was feeling settled, it was time to move again. So, now I find myself - once again starting over. And, it's been challenging.
I know that I'm in a big city. And, I know there should be a lot of opportunities. And, I know that I should be able to find a job easily. And yet, here I am, three months later...still trying to figure out exactly what I want to do. I know that I'm being picky. Eight years into being an SLP means I have a much clearer view of what I want/what I don't want...and perhaps less willingness to 'let things develop.' There are pros and cons to that fact!
I've always thought about starting a private practice...and while now seems like a good time to do so...I also realize that being in a completely new place and not knowing anyone/not having anyone know me may make the process a bit more complicated. And yet, I'm still pulled toward it. I struggle with the fact that beginning a private practice will take time, which means that I won't be jumping in to a full caseload of clients for who knows how long. And yet, I feel myself wanting that...now! I find myself becoming increasingly frustrated with daily tasks - running errands, unpacking, making phone calls, etc. I know it's because there's no feeling of balance for me. If I was working during the day - and feeling useful professionally - I think it would be easier to handle these types of tasks in the evenings and on the weekends. If that makes any sense?! Luckily, in all of this, I've been able to continue working with many of my students in Japan via Telehealth. And those sessions are intense reminders of how much I love what I do! Last week, in the span of one day...I found myself sobbing after an afternoon of feeling useless...and feeling on top of the world after three wonderful sessions with my students.
Texas has also been lonely. In a different way than Japan was lonely. In Japan, I struggled a lot with meeting people - at least initially. A lot of that was me struggling with leaving my family and friends; and a lot of that was me being resistant to meeting people through organized events. And yet, almost all of the friends I made in Japan were in the same boat as me. They weren't from Japan - they didn't have a family/friend network - and they were trying to find their niche and their people too. And so, they bonded together...formed groups...and invited others into those groups. There was an unspoken (and often spoken) understanding that united us all - regardless of background or where we had come from. A diverse group more similar than different.
It's not like that here. I mean, I'm sure there are people who are new to the area...longing to meet others and form connections. It's just not as obvious. There aren't groups. You have to really work to meet people. Especially if you're not working or planning to work from home. Luckily, my cousin and her family live nearby - and time with them has been both a saving grace and a huge sense of comfort since we arrived. I realized today - that although Japan helped me to become much more comfortable with alone time...to the point where I often find comfort in those moments...I could easily go through weeks or months here without meeting anyone and that might be a little too much alone time. I need people and I need people to need me. I suppose we all do!
At this point in my life, I also recognize that I am also a bit tired of all the work that goes in to meeting people....as awful as that sounds. I have an amazing family and really wonderful group of close friends, who've become family over the years. And, it's those relationships that I want to put my time and energy into. Yet, as much as I hate to admit it, distance can often make this challenging. When I was in Japan, I missed my family and friends in the US a lot. And, in a lot of ways, being back with all of them kept me going for those two years away. Now I'm back...and I want to go back to talking/seeing them all on a much more frequent basis...yet, I'm still so far away. Sure, I'm in the same country...but I'm still not there. So to them, not much has changed...and to me, everything has. And on top of missing my friends around the US, I am now struggling with the intense sense of missing the friends I made in Japan. Last week, the community suffered a huge tragedy...and I've never felt so helpless and so far away. Knowing that they are hurting and not being able to be there with them has been awful in so many ways.
And while I know that my friendships are solid - and that we tend to pick up right where we left off when we talk, Skype, or see each other...it's those daily interactions that I've come miss the most, I think. Just being there with people - experiencing daily life together. Allowing things to happen as they will. The little things...that over time add up to big things. Perhaps that's the price we pay at times for forming such strong, meaningful, and lasting friendships with people all over the world. And for all that those friendships bring to my life, I'm willing to pay that price. It just really suck sometimes! I suppose that brings me to where I am at this moment in the whole repatriation journey. Feeling far away, missing people, drowning in change, struggling with identity, searching for home, and a whole slew of other things. It's a lot...and yet, it's all part of the journey. We all have our journeys, right?! And while they may be different, they are full of both sunny and cloudy moments.
And so, as this journey continues, I am trying to remind myself to be patient. Just like I would tell anyone else in this situation. To let go of the expectations and the 'shoulds.' To take risks, put myself out there...and, to give things time. To feel the grief of losing a place, people, familiarity and the gratitude for those people and experiences all in the same moment. To take all that I've seen, felt, lived, and learned - and let it fill those moments of groundlessness and fear. And most importantly to keep moving...all the while being open to the opportunities and experiences that arise. Knowing full well that with time I will look back on these days, weeks, and months as ones of learning, growth, and exploration. Just like I have with other journeys in my life!
