Transitions always involve an ending
“This was the place where I used to belong and was used to belonging, but I no longer fit. ”
It was Thanksgiving dinner with my family. My first in years. My sister and a cousin had come from university, boyfriends in tow, to join us at my parents’ place. We went around the table in turn, each sharing something we were thankful for. This was the type of sporadic tradition Mom loved.
I faltered. Whether I was too slow to answer or lacked conviction, I don’t recall. I know I was not sufficiently thankful. Especially for someone who had just returned from a “missionary” type role. I was supposed to be an example!
My mom loved her home—her house, her church, and her corner of the city. She loved me. And so, she was thrilled that I was back home, safe from all things foreign—like sketchy healthcare, tropical illnesses and bugs. She could not grasp why I was not equally enthusiastic.
I did have much to be thankful for, yet I struggled to muster feelings of gratitude. Other feelings preoccupied me. I felt adrift, disoriented, misunderstood and a bit disappointing. And I couldn’t quite grasp why.
I’d been so excited to come home. And yet, I didn’t feel at home at all.
What happens when “home” stops feeling like home? Photo credit Rowan Heuvel on Unsplash
I couldn’t have explained it if I’d tried. Nelson Mandela’s words came close. “There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.“ (Nelson Mandela, Long Walk to Freedom)
I was altered. No question. This was the place where I used to belong and was used to belonging, but I no longer fit.
Returning to my Caribbean home wasn’t an option either. That chapter was closed, and the longer I stayed away, the less I “belonged” there. And so, for a time, I felt I didn’t belong anywhere.
Name what has been left behind
““Considering that we have to deal with endings all our lives, most of us handle them poorly…””
William Bridges explains that we we tend to handle transitions poorly because we either make too little of them—carrying on as though the life-altering changes we’ve just come through were no big deal—or we make too much of them.
I’ve learned since that making an honest assessment of the transition is grounding. It helps me find my footing.
Home, as I remembered it, didn’t exist anymore. The person I had been at 18 was gone, too. But, this untethered state, how I felt, was a temporary thing—a stage to walk through and work through—it was not who and how I would be long term.
In his book titled Reentry, Peter Jordan advises missionaries, before returning to their home country, to articulate what has changed.
For example, reflect on:
How have I changed in my views, habits, thinking, values and priorities, health and abilities, appearance, preferred activities and foods?
How have my ways of relating changed?
What has changed in my absence? Have family members passed or moved away? Have new relationships grown in my absence?
Has the culture, values, and ways of thinking shifted?
How have my culture and my ways of thinking shifted?
Reflection
What has changed for you?
Name a transition in your life. Try to list at least five things that have changed as a result. They can be small or big, from a change to your weekly routine to the death of a loved one. List as many as you can think of.
Now, look at your list. Are there things there you hadn’t considered before? Do you see some clues to why you ay be feeling adding to your feeling untethered or a bit overwhelmed?
I had not answered those questions before reentering Canadian life. I’d spent little time in my hometown since finishing high school seven years earlier. Of course, my home had changed! My brother and sister had moved out. A dear uncle had died. Friends had moved away or lost touch. Some had started families of their own.
Naming these changes could have eased my return to Canadian life. It would not have prevented reverse culture shock, but it might have lessened the blow. I really hadn’t seen it coming.
Jordan’s book was a gift, reassuring me I was neither alone nor crazy. It wasn’t just me. Many expats agree that repatriating (i.e., moving back to their home country after a prolonged absence) was their most difficult move. I was in good company.