Everything

The way we were seemed perfect
Who we were felt right
The future laid so clearly
Then blindsided without a fight.

I understand that you love me
I've shown I love you, too.
So why choose this path that's turning
and pushing me away from you?

No matter what, I told you,
I will stand by your side.
You promised me the world and more
I had your heart and you had mine.

Then comes our anniversary
For me, brings memories and smiles
I had no idea your pain
Was so great with all these miles.

I thought I knew your heart so well
Your very thoughts, they spoke to me
You proved me truly wrong today.
Said that we could no longer be.

My darling, I still love you so.
I'm convinced that you do, too.
Will pushing me away right now
Just reignite the fire in you?

Somehow, I will accept this news,
Though understanding cannot be.
Babe, you weren't my everything,
But you are everything to me.

The Cure? Culture Shock 3.0

I have found that the best way to cure my culture shock so far is a short list of Bethany Habits. Some come naturally and some are being purposefully created. Whatever the beginning might be, I have the same end in mind: normality. (However, I still can't identify if that's a reasonable or even desirable goal. Perhaps I should shift that to comfortability or belonging, since neither of those have been achieved as of yet).

1.) Fill your schedule. If you're busy enough, you won't have as much time to miss what you left behind. This works most of the time until you have a mental breakdown because you're overwhelmed and suffering from culture shock. In my life, this seems to be a common issue. Therefore, I move on to step two.

2.) Avoid pictures and conversations with those you met abroad; wanderlust will only return at this point. I have failed with this idea, mostly because I think it's unhealthy. Granted, I yearn even more for my home in France when I sift through old photos and Skype with my buddies from abroad but, without doing so, I feel like I would be denying new pieces of myself that I just acquired. If I just bought a new book, I will want to read it even if it reminds me that I can't go back to that store I love so much for a very long time. Not doing so would be ignorant.

3.) Do not search to see how much flights cost to return. I have also failed at this. I search about once a week to see just how much effort, how many extra shifts and how much time off I would need to return to answer the call of my heart to that land far away.

4.) Hide your passport from yourself. This is a great tool if you tend to try to use it too often and are thus suspected of terrorism or at the very least suffering from over-wanderlust syndrom. In my case, it was a joy of looking over my arrival stamps, so I hid it in a "very safe place" that I am still trying to recall.

5.) Hang out with international students and do cultural things. This will indeed help you to feel as if you have switched shoes and can now properly welcome newcomers to your home culture. This is also a great resume builder and eye-opener to the world surrounding. However, it will also increase your urge to follow them back to their countries of origin in order to experience yet another adventure. Deny this if you ever want to lose the culture shock. Accept it it you want to thrive in a global world and to continue on the crazy train. (I chose the latter route).

Culture Shock 2.0

So I unwittingly decided to learn the hard way. Is this a new thing for me? Not really. I tend to do my research before jumping into anything. When I think that I am fully prepared and feeling as adventurous as anyone could be, I leap. However, life seems to think that there are additional lessons to learn that research can't teach me; that includes falling flat on my face sometimes.

Before returning to the US, I had researched my way through culture shock, expatriatism and repatriatism as those sent abroad return to their homeland. My family and few close friends stood by in an accepting and loving welcome, as I had prayed they would be. What I wasn't expecting, however, was for my homeland to not be waiting with open arms. Sure, I knew that my stories wouldn't be received by all with excitement, but rather jealousy and ignorance on a rare occasion, but that is not the hard part. The hard part is flying into a place so familiar but yet so changed. Life went on. It's as if I tripped into a novel halfway through; everyone knows the plot line and details and I am clueless but afraid to let anyone know. I suppose I could take the "fake it 'til you make it" road, but instead I choose the "dive in and become so busy that you don't notice the storyline they're following" road. After a few weeks of being back, however, it seems that I am reading a different book entirely; not only that, but it's written in a different language.

My eyes are different, my processes are different and my heart lies elsewhere.

Don't get me wrong, I beg of you, I really love my country. The United States of America is my home! My family is here, my school is here and my past is here. But is it so strange of me to consider picking up another book in a different land for awhile?

Problem (and answer) number two: I am in love. However, that is not the only reason why my heart is called abroad! I want to broaden my horizons so much so that I can make a valuable impact in my communities; those communities are not just within the boundaries of the wonderful US. I have pushed them to France, Germany, and who knows where else? I want to become knowledgeable in my field and gather experiences from all around the world. Also, I want to follow my heart. I want a family someday and a happy, healthy marriage to be a good example for my family, myself and my kids. I want to be ministering in three languages, cultivating a community and never stop learning. God is the only one who knows where and when I can and will accomplish these things, but He has laid them on my heart and soul and I will follow.

Door after door slammed in my face. After being locked inside that room of confusion and desperation, the windows are being thrown open to let the sunshine in and are beckoning me to climb through. I must confess to you all that one of those windows is painted with black, red and yellow and the other in a patriotic, three-striped, red, white and blue fashion. I don't know if I can crawl through both, but I sure plan on trying.



Culture shock 2.0: My homeland never moves, but I'm evolving.