Today, January 8th, will be my “immiversary” so I thought it would be fitting for a little reflection. I was unfamiliar with the term immiversary and the significance such a date could hold until I’d lived my first year abroad.
It’s difficult to believe that I’ve spent the last 4 years living in England. Perhaps that’s because half of my time here has been engulfed by the pandemic. Does anyone else feel as if there’s been a time shift and 2 years has just disappeared?
Pandemic aside, when I look back over these four years I see my life segmented into very distinct periods. Chapters which have each brought their challenges and joys… and most importantly, growth.
Where I started
When I left home four years ago, I was in the process of redefining myself after spending years in a toxic relationship. That one relationship damaged every other in my life and the thing about it is there is no easy way to heal the wounds that persist. In yourself and in others.
One day, I’ll get around to telling the whole story, but it’s enough to say that my first phase of life abroad was, in my mind, about proving myself. Even now I’m not sure if it was for my benefit or a desperate attempt to show others that I had overcome my past.
Either way, I wasn’t terribly centered when I set out on this new path. Everyone was saying I was brave, but I certainly didn’t feel it. I was so nervous. Excited, yes. But scared. Definitely scared. I had my doubts and wondered if I was doing the right thing. I still believe the only way I was able to move abroad was convincing myself that I could move back home anytime I wanted. And the only way I’m able to stay is to convince myself it isn’t forever.
But I’m jumping ahead – back to the point.
I did a lot of wandering in that first phase, figurative and literal. I spent a lot of time challenging my beliefs, or, rather, having my beliefs challenged. I had to redo every process that is typically done from the age of 15-21 but instead of 6 years, I had 6 months. Bank account, rental references, debit card, credit card, driver’s license. It was a rebirth of sorts. A clean slate. An opportunity. And a challenge… (Blank slates can be so intimidating, particularly for the perfectionists among us.)
I’m not sure how much I’ve really changed in the last 4 years or if it’s just been a process of finding my way back to the “me” I always knew I was. For the moment, there isn’t a better word, so change will have to do.
Change in oneself is often difficult to measure in real time. It’s a slow process, so the best gauge for me was reflecting on my visits back home and the emotions which dominated them.
Visiting home for the first time
My first visit home was beautiful. It was Christmas, nearly a year after moving. I scheduled 2 or 3 meals out each day to speak to as many friends as I could. I wouldn’t recommend it, really. By the end I felt ill and couldn’t bear the thought of one more bite, but the focused one to one time I had with the people I love was exactly what I needed.
I suppose I did want to “prove myself”, but what happened instead was an acknowledgement and acceptance of what had been and what was. I know it brought peace for me, and I hope it did for my friends and family too. I was finally able to put it behind me.
Home again
I returned about a year later and on that journey I had a connection in Texas where the border control officer insisted I had an English accent.
The transformation was beginning.
I was opening up and accepting my new English life. I was still fascinated by it all. It was shiny, and new, and better. At least in my mind. I was so happy to go back home to see my family, but everything that was shouting “America” made me cringe. The loud volume used for normal conversation, the way strangers in the drive thru tried to sound like my friend, the massive vehicles, the switching and swapping that happens to every dish on the menu.
It’s as if I was seeing my culture through 3D glasses for the first time. Everything was coming at me and there was a lot of flinching.
Most Recently
I was lucky enough to visit the States in November 2021 after nearly 2 years of being away.
It was then that I was inspired to write this reflection.
The travel restrictions have, at times, felt like an exile from my own country.
After being away for so long, I was able to see the parts of American life that were so familiar that they went unnoticed for all those years. They didn’t feel so abrasive, this time, though. My observations were more nuanced, appreciative, and gentle. I wasn’t judging or resisting, I was observing and appreciating. I was fascinated.
I went to a college basketball game and was intrigued by the cheerleaders and the crowd participation. Why do we love college sports so much? The size of everything was incredible – the washing machines, the toilets, the houses, the gardens, the cars, the roads.
I suddenly realized that the feelings I had during my previous visits, and perhaps throughout my childhood, grew from a sense of intimidation. It was as if I believed it was an expectation that I conform to those norms which have never felt natural to me.
As a shy introvert who’s not very assertive, I’ve always preferred flying under the radar. A trait which has helped me fit in more easily here in England.
The years I’ve spend in England hadn’t turned me into a radically different person, nor had there been much change in American culture.
What had changed was who I knew myself to be. I had the chance to be free of expectations. To explore my thoughts and feelings. To gain confidence in myself. And from that more sturdy foundation, there was no need to feel intimidated anymore or pressed into an uncomfortable mold.
I could just be me. And be happy.
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