Re-Emerging - Repatriation Part 4
My family and I landed in the US a little over 2 months ago, and like a cautious turtle, I’m finally feeling ready to stick my head out of my shell.
After saying goodbye to Jordan, our home for the last 10 years, we are now setting up life in the United States. I’ve spent 15 years of life as an expat, which makes me a unique kind of person; never fully belonging to either my passport country or my country of residence. I lived between worlds and cultures for a long time. Now coming back to the country I was born and raised in seems like it should be natural and easy to most people I meet, but in reality, it’s also a foreign place. In a decade and a half nearly everything has changed, myself included. I first started traveling as a single young woman right out of college. Now I’m returning with two kids and a husband and countless experiences that 23-year old never imagined. Thankfully I’ve got my expat toolbelt complete with adaptation skills and an adventurous spirit to help me figure out who I will become here.
The in-between space is tricky though.
Recently I was talking to a client who said she had “mush brain” and I instantly knew what she was talking about. When we left Jordan, I had every intention of writing an update within a week or two of landing in the US. But an international move with 2 preschoolers and my “mush brain” meant that an update would have to wait.
I’ve heard people describe transition as a bridge…a very rickety swinging bridge with missing rungs and gaping holes.
You know you have to take steps forward, but you’re navigating something new and unstable. Holding on to the supports as best you can, you take one step at a time, no matter how small.
As you navigate the unsteady terrain of any big transition, another unexpected battle often begins. Your body may be exhausted, craving rest, while your brain is busy “trying” to help you figure out the unknowable future. During the first month of our move, I remember feeling full of contradictions. Anytime I finally found a moment to myself to unwind and take a quiet moment, I felt compelled to do all the things my brain had been shaming me for not figuring out yet.
“Unpack the bags”
“Now re-pack them for the next move”
“Clean up that mess”
“Figure out the kids’ school”
“Find furniture for your apartment that you haven’t seen yet”
“Get a grip on the future!”
Granted, there are truly a lot of logistics involved in such a big move and plenty that has to be done. But my brain was so busy planning, actually obsessing, that I was neglecting what I needed at that moment. And my body suffered the consequences.
In coaching sessions and workshops I’ve often said “If you don’t slow down when you need rest, your body will find a way to do it for you”. For some reason, I was acting like I was immune to this truth. And I just pushed through.
Until my body stopped me.
One Monday just a week after we moved into our new apartment in Colorado, I took the kids to the dentist. After the checkups, I got the news that both kids had cavities. Like a rushing wave, the “you’re a bad mother” story crashed on top of all the stress I was already carrying with the move. I pushed down the tears that were begging to come out, ignored my exhaustion, and decided I had to keep going. So a muscle behind my shoulder blade gave out and, all of a sudden, I could barely move.
Thankfully my father-in-law, who graciously traveled to be with us as we got settled, was there and helped us all get to the car and back home. A hot bath and a good cry later, I was up and moving again, but I received the message. Pushing through isn’t going to work.
Honestly, I didn’t expect this update to be so focused on the struggles of our transition. I could easily write pages on everything that has gone well. We have received incredible support from friends and family and we absolutely love our new home. But it is important to me to validate the struggles of this in-between stage of transition. If you’re reading this and you’re telling yourself “just keep going - you have to push through”, take a breath and ask yourself, “how can I find a way to find some space before my body forces me to slow down?”
I have learned so much on this journey, and I’m thankful to everyone taking the time to join us by reading along. I hope to shed some light on this significant season of a life overseas for other expats and their loved ones who want to better understand what it’s like to come “home”.
Next time, I’ll share a few of the tips and tricks that worked for me as we navigated the uneasy first steps of transition when I remembered to actually use them!
For now, if you’re reading this amid some big changes, what would it look like to give yourself just a little bit more of whatever you need right now?
