culture confusion – A Life Overseas |

A Trip to the Embassy

I was excited. We’d only lived in Ireland a few months—long enough to begin to feel the reality of deep differences, but not nearly long enough to adjust to them. Our second son had just been born, a different experience in a different medical system, and we needed to register his birth at the United States embassy. American soil, in Ireland. It would be nice to get a little taste of all we’d left behind. A few hours on the motorway got us to Dublin, where we found the US embassy—a big round thing looking out of place on its street-corner, like a landed UFO. Like us.

To get through the outer wall, we had to go through security. I hadn’t anticipated that, but it made sense, and I knew what to do. On the other side of the metal detector, the ground was American. Even the flowers were red, white, and blue. This was going to be fun.

I opened the door to the UFO, and was immediately struck by the lack of country music. Not even rock. Nothing. Just another security guard, another metal detector, and a sign that said “Please take a number”. A number? I’m not a number, I’m an American! This is my embassy!

I took a number. White walls and tiles. Uncomfortable chairs. Drop ceiling. I knew there was a ballroom in the building, but no one offered to show it to me. Come to think of it, the room did look familiar. I’d seen this set up before, in America, at the Department of Motor Vehicles and the Social Security Office.

An embassy is a US government office. I should have known it would look like one. That I would hear several people being refused before I got a turn to hand my number through the thick (bullet proof?) glass and hope I had every form and supporting document exactly right. Somehow I had thought they would be as happy as I was to see another American. I had wanted a taste of things we left behind. I got one.

We walked out past the red, white, and blue flowers and through the security gate. On the other side, the Irish ground felt a little more like home. In the car, I played country music.

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Seth Lewis has lived on the south coast of the Republic of Ireland for the last ten years with his wife Jessica; two of their three children were born there. He works with a network of local churches who are committed to church planting and also assists with a local Bible college and youth camp ministry. Before moving overseas, Seth worked with a church in Virginia. His accent doesn’t really fit anywhere anymore, and he’s okay with that. You can find him online at sethlewis.ie.

Dear Life Abroad — I’ll keep my identity, thanks.

“Loss of identity.”

It makes every list doesn’t it? Right near the top. Up there with rootlessness, culture shock and horrible toilets.

When you take a two column, pros and cons approach to life abroad, the word “identity” rarely makes it into the pro column. In fact, if you compiled the sum of all of the pro-con lists out there and put them into a full disclosure, up front and honest sales pitch for a life overseas, you’d be hard pressed to convince a single person to sign on.

“Adventure that will change your life forever. Exposure to amazing people, traditions and foods. Community like you’ve never experienced. Frequent flier miles galore.”

“Oh and your identity is going to be stripped to the point that you will question everything you ever believed to be true about yourself.”

“Sound good?”

“Click here to sign up.”

You would think that living abroad is a first cousin to a witness protection program, which always sounds cool at first — and then you think it through. New life, new home, new friends but your old life will be gone forever.

I get it. I really do.

I have expatriated (moved abroad), repatriated (moved “home”) and then expatriated again.

I have felt thoroughly incompetent both far away and in my own country.

I have questioned deeply my role, my calling and my ability to contribute to anything significant.

I have felt lost, confused, broken and paralyzed.

BUT (and this is a huge BUT).

MY LIFE ABROAD HAS NOT TAKEN MY IDENTITY FROM ME.

On the contrary, living cross-culturally has shaped my identity. Stretched it. Molded it. Changed it to be sure, but there is nothing missing in who I am because of where I have been.

Here are three quick thoughts on identity and living abroad.

ONE: EVERYTHING WE DO CHANGES OUR IDENTITY

It’s funny to me that college doesn’t get the same bad rap that living abroad does. The identity gap between who we are on day one of university and who we are at graduation is the most pronounced of our lives.

Scratch that. Puberty — then college — but still.

When we talk about the college years we generally say things like, “that’s when I found myself,” or “that’s when I discovered who I really was.” We don’t often say “that’s when I lost my identity” even though we may be a dramatically different person.

Everything changes us.

College. Job. Marriage. Kids. Accomplishment. Tragedy.

All of it becomes a part of who we are.

TWO: YOU ALWAYS GO FORWARD — YOU NEVER GO BACK

Here’s where I think the rub is. I can’t prove it with science but I’ve watched it happen over and over.

Something clicks inside of our brain when we move abroad that convinces us that we have stepped into a time space continuum. It’s the same basic concept that makes us feel like our kids haven’t changed a bit while their grandparents think they’ve grown like weeds. We tend to fixate on the last point of connection and even though logically we reason that time continues in other places too . . . it’s still a shock when we see it in person.

Our lives are so dramatically different abroad and the contrast is so vivid that when we return we presume that we are simply stepping back through the portal . . . into the same place . . . with the same people.

So it stands to reason that we should be the same as well . . . but we’re not. In fact, all of the people involved have never stopped moving forward.

Life abroad is unique in that it is one of the few major life experiences that is marked by a sense of “going back” at the end.

College might be different if we graduated and went back to high school.

That would be a loss of identity for sure.

THREE: YOUR “LIFE ABROAD IDENTITY” IS WORTH HOLDING ONTO

Every year about this time I get to have a lot of conversations with people who are finishing their time abroad. I’ll give you three guesses what the most COMMONLY REPEATED FEAR that I hear is.

Here’s a clue: It’s NOT, “I’m afraid I won’t even know who I am.” That comes later.

It’s NOT, “I’m afraid I won’t fit back in.” That’s a big one but it’s not number one.

Ready?

It generally goes something like this: “I’m afraid I will slip back into my old life and just become who I used to be. I don’t want to forget what I have experienced and who I have become abroad.”

That doesn’t sound like a LOSS of identity to me. It sounds like a rich and wonderful ADDITION.

Here’s the kicker — not a single one of those people would say life abroad was ONLY rich and wonderful.

They tripped and bumbled just like the rest of us but through it all they found something in the experience that they never, ever want to let go of . . . to the point that they fear losing it.

For me — “IDENTITY” goes in the pro column.

Anyone else?

How to Give Yourself Grace: Advice to someone returning from a long journey!

Our community at A Life Overseas knows what it is to leave and return. We know the anticipation of arrival and the tears of goodbye. We know the nervous stomach and gnawing unease of a new place and the warmth and comfort of an old place. And we know grace – oh how we know grace in all of this.

But sometimes we forget what it is to live out that grace in practical ways. My friend Robynn has earned wisdom in this area. When I returned from Turkey in November and felt anxious and uneasy it was Robynn I contacted. When an overwhelming sense of homesickness attacks me, it’s Robynn I text or call. So it is her words I offer today; words that articulate what it is to give ourselves grace in a world of living between.

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india-324_1280

Last year we returned to India – a place where we lived for fifteen years. It was a trip of a life time. We visited our old lives, old haunts, favourite places and people. We ate delicious food at every stop. We cried at old memories and laughed at new jokes. Our children were steeped in the places of their early childhoods. It was rich and full and we left with hearts overwhelmingly grateful. What an undeserved joy to be able to travel back again to that precious place!

However, coming back to my regular routines has been difficult. I anticipated grief and a sense of loss, but that’s not really what’s characterized my return. A friend recently inquired on Facebook as to how I am doing. My response to her was, “I have this relapse of culture shock. I feel at odds once again. That nervous uneasiness has reentered my stomach. I feel overwhelmed and easily anxious.”

Each time I try to explain what’s circling inside my soul to friends, in person or online, they respond gently, kindly, “Give yourself grace!”

Just give yourself some grace.

It was a big trip. You were gone a long time.

Give yourself grace!

You planned for it most of last year. It was a big deal. For heaven’s sake…you just went to India!

Give yourself some grace!

But I have no idea what that means. Looking it up in the dictionary does little to help. I don’t know how to do that. What does it look like to give myself grace? I’ve spent some time stewing on this. If this is the advice I repeatedly receive, I owe it to advice givers and, perhaps also, to myself to figure this out!

Here’s what I’ve come up with. Here’s what I think it means to Give Yourself Grace:

It’s going to take time. It took time to prepare for the trip. There were passports to renew and visas to apply for. The kids had to finish up their school work. Christmas presents had to be bought in advance. Bills would need to be paid while we were gone, plants would need watering. It all took a lot of time to organize and coordinate and arrange. It’s going to also take time to come back in. Returning requires time too. Unpacking, putting away suitcases, sorting through mail, making to do lists. There will be photos to sort through, piles of paper work to process, routines to reestablish. These things all take time.
Whatever you’re feeling is normal and to be expected. At least I hope this is true. I remember once in a moment of profound grief after the death of a close friend, a psychologist who was related to the family said, “Whatever you’re feeling is normal.” That actually brought a lot of comfort at that time. I was feeling some sadness but I also felt anger and exhaustion; I felt bitter and guilty at not being more upset than I was. Her pronouncement over my emotions gave me some relief and some freedom. I find myself repeating that over my heart when I don’t even necessarily know what I’m feeling. Emotions are so complex. How can I sort through them all? Surely, whatever I’m feeling just now is normal and to be expected!
You can expect waves of grief and relief. There are these moments of deep sadness after saying goodbye to South Asia, to close friends, to the place, even to myself. (I often leave large chunks of me there!). But there are also waves of relief. Life in India is hard work. Electricity is unpredictable. Pollution is intense—both in the air and on the ground. If I’m completely honest with myself, I also feel some relief that I don’t have to contend with those things every day. The relief is mixed with the grief which is mixed with equal parts of guilt and sorrow. It’s an odd cocktail but it’s the cup I’ve been given to drink.
You can anticipate some cultural confusion. When you switch a baby from breast-feeding to bottle feeding and then back to breast-feeding often the baby experiences some “nipple confusion.” As earthy as the metaphor might be, I think it describes some of what we feel when we return to our beloved places and then reenter our regular placements. We are confused. Our souls are unsettled. We knew a particular way and then we became used to a different way and now we’re back to the old way, but only temporarily and now we race to what was sort of familiar and yet now not so much. There has to be some cultural confusion….some yanking of our tethers, our leashes. We are whiplashed from culture to culture. You can expect to be out of whack!
There’s no rush. What’s the hurry? Where’s the deadline? It’s going to take time. (I think this really is the heart of “give yourself grace” and it begs repeating….)
Tap into God’s grace, his “unmerited divine assistance.” He specializes in going with people from place to place. He goes before and behind, encircling those he’s fond of. Certainly he understands and he can help. Ask him for some of that “divine assistance!”

“You know when I sit down or stand up. You know my thoughts even when I’m far away. You see me when I travel and when I rest at home. You know everything I do. You know what I am going to say even before I say it… You go before me and follow me. You place your hand of blessing on my head.” (Psalm 139:2-5)

Maybe the dictionary can help! Give yourself, “a temporary exemption: REPRIEVE,” a “special favour,” or, “disposition to or an act or instance of kindness, courtesy, or clemency.” In other words be nice to yourself! Pamper yourself. Make yourself a cup of hot tea. Sit quietly in your favourite chair. Watch a cathartic something that will make you cry! Watch something that will make you laugh out loud! Read through your journal again. Pour yourself a hot bath. Be very nice to yourself.
Resist the urge to return too quickly. Try not to rush back in. Breathe deeply. Move slowly. Go ahead and do the next thing on your list but don’t hurry. Your poor body has been around the world and back again. Let your soul catch up! Come home slowly.
Make to do lists. It’s pathetic, I know, but one thing you’re likely feeling is completely out of control! And of course you are! Regaining control is a mirage….it can’t really happen. But there is something to be said about doing the next thing. And it’s easier to know what that is when you have some good lists to work from.

So this is what I think it means to Give Myself some Grace! And it’s what I’m trying to do just now. The return journey from India is a lot longer than the one that took us there. I’m giving myself grace.

About Robynn – Robynn is a proud Canadian who spent her childhood in Pakistan, married an American. and went on to live, work, and raise a family in India. She is co-author of the book Expectations and Burnout:Women Surviving the Great Commission and writes at Communicating Across Boundaries every Friday. This post is adapted from the original piece on Communicating Across Boundaries.

Picture Credit: http://pixabay.com/en/india-market-color-colorful-henna-324/