So I do this study every weekday that is supposed to keep you culturally aware and make you think about culture shock and homesickness so you can stay on top of it. I was a little behind so today I did like 5 days in one. (We went on an excursion last week. I'll blog about that later.) Normally it isn't a huge deal. Takes 10-20 minutes tops. Today I had to take a survey about the stages of homesickness. Well it knocked me off my feet.
If you know me in my deep heart you know that I am an internal processor. I think about things a lot. I think about them for a long time. When I am ready to talk about them I verbal vomit all over the place because I have been thinking about it so much that there is just a lot of things to spill out.
If you know many of my weird oddities you know that in college I studied in the bathroom. It started out of consideration for my roommate. I was an early riser, so I would go into our bathroom sit on the floor to study before classes. This way I didn't have to bother her with the light or rustling around. It was weird. Typing it out makes it sound even weirder. I also would turn the shower on really hot so it steamed up the whole bathroom. Does wonders for asthma. (This is a perfect example of my verbal vomitting.) It's truly a miracle that I have friends.
Anywho. That practice has stuck with me. To this day when I really need to buckle down and study, or think something through I wake up early, head to my bathroom turn on the shower and think. So this morning as I'm sitting in the bathroom trying to gauge how homesick I am I just start feeling really pitiful about myself. I miss my family. My friends are going on fun vacations. Several friends are getting married. I haven't met my nephew. My sister is buying a real life grown up house. (Not a deluxe Barbie edition, but still A HOUSE?!) I just got overwhelmed with how much I missed my life there.
I need to preface this next part with another "If you know me..." statement. I get really choked up during patriotic songs. I cried like a baby just during commercials about that Lifetime or TLC show where they bring soldiers home to surprise their family. I think it started in 6th grade when we did a patriotic medley for an assembly. I truly love patriotic songs. But I have to tell you, that as much as I love my family, I don't know that I always love America. Living in another place will change your perspective. I've never been particularly attached to living in America. But after moving, my desire for the States have everything to do with my people, and nothing to do with the Nation. And I just need to get this off my chest, because it really bothers me.
People commended me a lot for leaving. They said I was brave. They talked about how much better it is in the states. During 4th of July I saw post after post about God bless America, and about a nation founded by believers and such. And part of me was saying "RIGHT ON! WHOOO Freedom! Whooo Red, White, and Blue!" and another deep place in my heart was screaming "NO! God isn't American." I'm not here to see how much better I have it in the States. I'm not here so I can be grateful for all the privileges I have in the States. Sometimes I think that wealth is such a crippling disease.
So as I sat in my bathroom floor my heart began to wrestle with the feelings of deep longing to return to see my family, to sit with familiar friends in a familiar place on certain days of the week, to get a stinking snow cone, to have AC that I can afford to run all day long, and to just be comfortable. Those feelings clashed with the frustration of misinformation that people have about the people I love here. About the way they live.
I guess the culture shock finally hit, but not in the way I expected.
If you know me in my deep heart you know that I am an internal processor. I think about things a lot. I think about them for a long time. When I am ready to talk about them I verbal vomit all over the place because I have been thinking about it so much that there is just a lot of things to spill out.
If you know many of my weird oddities you know that in college I studied in the bathroom. It started out of consideration for my roommate. I was an early riser, so I would go into our bathroom sit on the floor to study before classes. This way I didn't have to bother her with the light or rustling around. It was weird. Typing it out makes it sound even weirder. I also would turn the shower on really hot so it steamed up the whole bathroom. Does wonders for asthma. (This is a perfect example of my verbal vomitting.) It's truly a miracle that I have friends.
Anywho. That practice has stuck with me. To this day when I really need to buckle down and study, or think something through I wake up early, head to my bathroom turn on the shower and think. So this morning as I'm sitting in the bathroom trying to gauge how homesick I am I just start feeling really pitiful about myself. I miss my family. My friends are going on fun vacations. Several friends are getting married. I haven't met my nephew. My sister is buying a real life grown up house. (Not a deluxe Barbie edition, but still A HOUSE?!) I just got overwhelmed with how much I missed my life there.
I need to preface this next part with another "If you know me..." statement. I get really choked up during patriotic songs. I cried like a baby just during commercials about that Lifetime or TLC show where they bring soldiers home to surprise their family. I think it started in 6th grade when we did a patriotic medley for an assembly. I truly love patriotic songs. But I have to tell you, that as much as I love my family, I don't know that I always love America. Living in another place will change your perspective. I've never been particularly attached to living in America. But after moving, my desire for the States have everything to do with my people, and nothing to do with the Nation. And I just need to get this off my chest, because it really bothers me.
People commended me a lot for leaving. They said I was brave. They talked about how much better it is in the states. During 4th of July I saw post after post about God bless America, and about a nation founded by believers and such. And part of me was saying "RIGHT ON! WHOOO Freedom! Whooo Red, White, and Blue!" and another deep place in my heart was screaming "NO! God isn't American." I'm not here to see how much better I have it in the States. I'm not here so I can be grateful for all the privileges I have in the States. Sometimes I think that wealth is such a crippling disease.
So as I sat in my bathroom floor my heart began to wrestle with the feelings of deep longing to return to see my family, to sit with familiar friends in a familiar place on certain days of the week, to get a stinking snow cone, to have AC that I can afford to run all day long, and to just be comfortable. Those feelings clashed with the frustration of misinformation that people have about the people I love here. About the way they live.
I guess the culture shock finally hit, but not in the way I expected.
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