There is a familiar rhythm to this time of year in the expat world: it is saying goodbye time. Many people conclude their time overseas in June or early July. This time of year is full of discussions about when people are leaving, what they have to do before that date, and what they will be doing in the next chapter of their life. They are getting ready to leave.
And some of us are staying. We’re saying goodbye to the current group of people who share our lives in the flesh and hoping that cool people will come in September, and we’ll have the emotional energy to invest in opening our hearts again.
I’m one of the “stayers”. My verse for this year is “run with perseverance the race marked out for you,” with emphasis on perseverance. Chapter by chapter, I’m building community and sustainable practices for living here.
But I’m also a short-term “leaver”. I’ll be spending some time in the U.S. this summer. Since I also spent time in the U.S. this winter, I have to confess, I’m having a hard time getting excited about the leaving. There are things I’m looking forward to: temperate Michigan summer, the sandy Lake Michigan beach, camping, blueberries, swimming with my nephews, a road trip to visit friends, jeans-sweatshirt-flip-flops outfits on crisp mornings or evenings, sweet corn, campfires, a haircut, and the sound of waves crashing on Lake Michigan. But before I do all of those things, there is a long to-do list: plans to make, bills to pay, gifts to buy, shopping lists to make, and photos to take.
And I have to say good bye to the people I love here, in order to be able to say hello to people I love on the other side of the sea. In the spirit of honesty and vulnerability I’ve had recently, it takes emotional energy to come and go, say goodbye and hello, so often. The differences between the two countries are jarring to the soul. The pressures of being in the U.S. are different from being in China. It is sort of like I have to have two different switches in my brain. Turning on one switch turns on the life-in-China mindset. It includes skills like elbowing your way through a crowd, drinking hot water, standing really close to the people in front of you in line so no one cuts in front of you, giving negative answers indirectly, politely grunting answers to questions, and being okay that I am an obvious outsider. But then if I turn that switch off and turn the life-in-the-U.S. switch on gives me a new mindset. It gives me skills for remembering that I need to ask for my water without ice, making detailed grocery lists so I don’t have a meltdown at the plethora of choices in the cereal aisle, polite answers to comments about how “great it is to be home,” waiting until there are no oncoming cars in either direction before crossing the street, and remembering to give people appropriate personal space.
The thing it, in my actual brain, those switches don’t switch on and off automatically or instantly. They are often both on when I first go from one country to another. The result: I am really confused. In seemingly straightforward situations, my brain is in overdrive. “Okay, now I need to get the avocados weighed before I go to the cash register. If I haven’t gotten them weighed and a UPC to scan, I the cashier will just take them away and tell me I can’t buy them. Now, where is the weigh station. Oh, wait! I’m in the United States. Do they have weigh stations here? Oh, no, you just take it to the cashier and they weigh it. I think. Is that actually right? Hopefully I can actually walk out of the store with these avocados.” It gets exhausting when any little thing can send your brain into overdrive.
This time, I’ve only been back in China for a few months, and so my brain probably only really turned the U.S. switch off maybe a month or six weeks ago. Thinking about turning it on again in five weeks, only to have to turn it off again a month or so later just makes me tired. As much as I’m looking forward to sitting on the shores of Lake Michigan and seeing the cutest little boys in the world (and their parents and grandparents), it would be emotionally easier to just stay in one place.
This week at Velvet Ashes, Amy wrote about how to welcome someone back from overseas for the first time. And she wrote that “LOUD emotional reactions are part of the gig.” My emotional reactions might not be quite as LOUD now as they were a few years ago, but they are still loud. I personally don’t always exhibit my LOUD reactions in a way that sounds loud to others, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t loud inside my head and heart.
LOUD emotional reactions come with transitions. Leaving, staying, and temporarily leaving are all transitions. Transitions take time and energy. I’m trying to practice giving myself grace in the middle and building in healthy practices that will ease the pain. And I’m sitting in the discomfort of the LOUD emotional reactions. Will you sit with me?
Comments