Reverse Culture Shock
Why doesn't home feel like home anymore?
“I think I’m ready to be honest. I hate it here.”
“Damn, it’s about time. Welcome to the club.”
My youngest and I were taking a walk last night and, now that we were out of the house, I needed to get it off my chest. Both kids and my husband had been saying it about our current duty station. I was saying it in a more general way, because I still don’t feel adjusted to being back in the US.
Seven years in Japan.
Five months back in the States.
It still feels surreal. And I don’t like it. Most days I feel like I’m just waiting to go back to Japan.
And, to be clear, I had a very privileged existence in Japan. My housing was stable, even as I bounced between a couple jobs, our income was an American salary with the exchange rate almost always in our favor, I could go on. I had the privilege of being a sort of semi-permanent tourist. So I may very well have some seriously rose colored glasses on about the whole thing.
But it’s so loud here. It’s not safe. I’m already hyper-aware due to my PTSD, but it’s off the charts here.
People drive so fast, and so aggressively. I’ve griped more than once that no matter where I go, everyone is a walking example of Main Character Syndrome. They’re the most important thing and nobody else around them matters. There’s no consideration for others existing right alongside them.
And what is it with people bringing their dogs literally everywhere? Is that just a California thing?
I’ve been told we live in a poor area here in California. I wouldn’t say that the assessment is wrong, but I wouldn’t say it’s entirely true, either. Then again, I’ve been away for seven years, and the US has changed so dramatically in that time, I may not have a good sense of what’s considered poor anymore. The area is not without its problems, I’ll give it that. But it’s nice enough, and I guess safe enough when compared to the local news stories I read.
I just don’t think I’m cut out for California living. And that’s hysterical for a Pennsylvania born and bred girl who thought for her entire life that maybe she’d be better off moving out to LA to try to “make it” in the entertainment industry. Which was probably every 90s kid’s dream, to be honest, thinking we could just waltz on into some studio and become an instant star.
As my conversation with my youngest - who’s 16 - continued, I added a little more detail. “I don’t know if it’s just California that I hate, or if I hate being back in the US in general. Do we need to move again before I realize it was just this location? Before I feel at home again?”
He nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Maybe.” It was a noncommittal response; I think he’s wondered the same, too.
I hated admitting what I did, because I’m always the one to try to be positive and make the best of a new duty station. I’ve found the bright side of remote bases, even managed to have an incredible four years overseas while our family was enduring one of the most grueling deployment schedules. I worked to make myself excited about this move, to find joy in returning to our home country. To have things to look forward to. And yet…
This feels different. It bothers me that I can’t put my finger on why it feels different, either. Everything feels more difficult here than it needs to be, and that’s rich given that many Japanese businesses still use fax machines and do all their administration by actual physical paperwork. Of course, this is just one of many reasons I can come up with if given the chance to sit and wallow in my own self pity. Given more time, I’m sure I could come up with even more that would maybe land somewhere near the central issue, but wouldn’t really land center.
So here I sit, writing it out and tossing it out into the universe in hopes that I’m not alone.
It’s a hell of a thing, readjusting to a home country that doesn’t feel like home anymore.
But I’m glad you’re along for the ride.
I see you. I love you. Keep shining.