I posted a few days back and mentioned the "elation phase" of adjustment to overseas living. I think our phases of adjustment will all be shorter since we've been through this before. I remember going through them all in India. I remember the excitement, the fun, the tears, the stress, the complete confusion, then finally waking up one day and realizing that I had figured things out. That I knew where to get meat. That I could find my way around. That I could argue a shopkeeper down more than 50% of his asking price in under a minute. That I could scream at a molester in Hindi. That's when the fog completely lifts and you find yourself calling your host country home. It's a good feeling. It's freeing.
Unfortunately, first you have to come out of the elation phase and into the culture shock/negotiation phase. This day is perhaps just as memorable as your final adjustment day. Guess what? It's my day.
The day I find out that if I put Zack on the bus he'll have to be on it by 6:30 a.m. The day I realize that I can't possibly do this to him, or Gabriel when he starts school, and will therefore face the 2 hours of commuting through traffic 5 days a week for the next 4 years. The day I start my girl time of the month and face the issue of a toilet paper shortage and no car. The day I think about making the 1/2 mile walk to the store toting Gabriel who is screaming every time someone tries to touch him, which is often. The day I'm sick with boredom because I packed as light as humanly possible to make that trek across the Pacific by myself with two little boys and all my books, scrapbooking supplies, music, etc are still somewhere over that same vast ocean. The day Zack's horrible, constant cough is rubbing my nerves raw. The day after Zack gets two hours of sleep because of his cough. The day Gabey starts coughing, too. The day you see a Muslim man with something hidden under his shirt standing aimlessly right outside your child's school and nearly have a heart attack because your husband was inside the embassy while rioters threw Molotov cocktails at the wall. The day when they finally come to hang the curtains I've been begging them to hang only to find them swathing my entire living area (three of the main walls are massive windows) in a kind of puke yellow-colored curtain that hurts both my eyes and my soul. The day I cry in front of the curtain guys. The day I hit rock bottom and finish an entire carton of chocolate milk and Zack's last packet of GF cookies and wonder why we haven't bought any tequila yet.
The day I find out what I'm really made of it. It's not much. It's the day I have to decide to make it work again. The day I have to pick up my resolve, gather my wits, pray my most desperate prayers, and remember that I promised God I would lean on Him.
This is what it comes down to for us "trailing spouses." This is the time when we have to buckle down and decide that we're stronger than this culture shock phase. It only lasts a few months anyway. I have that memory of India, when the fog finally lifted (well, figuratively. The fog was always there literally...) and I began to grow into a woman of confidence, assertion, and faith, a person so unlike the soft clay God brought overseas. I have to cling to that.
It's time to grow again. Time to make it work. This life it tough, but it's fantastic, too. The real work has begun and I'm not going to let it beat me. God has a plan for me in Indonesia and I need to be around for it, body, mind, and soul. Bring it, Indonesia. I'm ready to go again!
Unfortunately, first you have to come out of the elation phase and into the culture shock/negotiation phase. This day is perhaps just as memorable as your final adjustment day. Guess what? It's my day.
The day I find out that if I put Zack on the bus he'll have to be on it by 6:30 a.m. The day I realize that I can't possibly do this to him, or Gabriel when he starts school, and will therefore face the 2 hours of commuting through traffic 5 days a week for the next 4 years. The day I start my girl time of the month and face the issue of a toilet paper shortage and no car. The day I think about making the 1/2 mile walk to the store toting Gabriel who is screaming every time someone tries to touch him, which is often. The day I'm sick with boredom because I packed as light as humanly possible to make that trek across the Pacific by myself with two little boys and all my books, scrapbooking supplies, music, etc are still somewhere over that same vast ocean. The day Zack's horrible, constant cough is rubbing my nerves raw. The day after Zack gets two hours of sleep because of his cough. The day Gabey starts coughing, too. The day you see a Muslim man with something hidden under his shirt standing aimlessly right outside your child's school and nearly have a heart attack because your husband was inside the embassy while rioters threw Molotov cocktails at the wall. The day when they finally come to hang the curtains I've been begging them to hang only to find them swathing my entire living area (three of the main walls are massive windows) in a kind of puke yellow-colored curtain that hurts both my eyes and my soul. The day I cry in front of the curtain guys. The day I hit rock bottom and finish an entire carton of chocolate milk and Zack's last packet of GF cookies and wonder why we haven't bought any tequila yet.
The day I find out what I'm really made of it. It's not much. It's the day I have to decide to make it work again. The day I have to pick up my resolve, gather my wits, pray my most desperate prayers, and remember that I promised God I would lean on Him.
This is what it comes down to for us "trailing spouses." This is the time when we have to buckle down and decide that we're stronger than this culture shock phase. It only lasts a few months anyway. I have that memory of India, when the fog finally lifted (well, figuratively. The fog was always there literally...) and I began to grow into a woman of confidence, assertion, and faith, a person so unlike the soft clay God brought overseas. I have to cling to that.
It's time to grow again. Time to make it work. This life it tough, but it's fantastic, too. The real work has begun and I'm not going to let it beat me. God has a plan for me in Indonesia and I need to be around for it, body, mind, and soul. Bring it, Indonesia. I'm ready to go again!
2 comments:
I pray that a soul sister will appear in your life. They always help with any kind of overload...even if just for a good laugh.
The 2 hour bus commute to school sounds awful. :-( Maybe next move we can send something by mail to arrive in a more timely matter?
Love you and if you can thrive in India you will here too!
Thinking of you. You sum up them way I have felt before so well. Good luck!
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