Returning to home
In December 2021, I shared my anxiety on coming home. At that time, I was scared of the uncertainties I would have to face after two years of living abroad. But despite all the insecurity, the idea of reuniting with my loved ones put comfort in me.
As I had to build my life from scratch in Australia, I have learned to rely on myself on most occasions. The first semester, I only had two weeks of study at university before Canberra went into heavy lockdown because of the pandemic. At the same time, I had to deal with family issues. The rest of the semesters were not easy either. I had to finish my thesis in my last semester while in lockdown, and I had to deal with some personal issues. My life almost fell apart, yet I could find strength within me in those dark times.
While it was a great learning process, it was also a very lonely experience.
Hence, returning home, I was relieved that I do not have to be by myself again as I am now surrounded by the people I love, my main support system.
However,
I realised that reuniting with my people — those I consider the foundation of my ‘home’ — is not as simple as it seems.
I was told to be prepared for the reverse culture shock. All changes that had happened in your home country while you were away. The differences between the overseas and the home culture. I had prepared myself to readapt and familiarise myself again with my home culture. Still, I was not ready to deal with the changes in my relationship with my friends and family.
I forgot — or was in denial — that just as my life has evolved, so do my friends and family’s lives.
Home, which I always identify as a place surrounded by my support system, does not feel exactly like what I had expected. For me, home involves feelings, relationships, routines and predictable patterns of interaction. But the patterns have changed, and I feel out of place.
Seven months after my return, I still feel like I am not at home.
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Hope and Expectation
All the uncertainties that I had last year apparently did not last long. In three months, I have everything answered: I got a job and position that I wanted, I moved out of the city I had lived in for 25 years, and now I live in a town close to my best friends and partner.
But something was missing. I felt lost and disconnected from myself. I remember a quote from a friend who explains the feeling quite well:
“… they will feel the strangeness of returning to a place that isn’t quite how you left it. The strangeness of being able to see how much you aren’t quite how you left either”.
That strangeness, I found out — through sessions with my therapist — was due to my expectation.
As I had a share of disappointment throughout my life, I used to tell myself not to have high expectations when it comes to other people. This applies to many aspects, including how I respond to romantic interests. No expectations are the best expectation.
Yet, subconsciously I expect my loved ones to respond to my relocation with so much enthusiasm. It sounds silly, I know. But I did not even realise I had that expectation until I was ‘received’ with business-as-usual manners.
No, I am not angry at anyone for my unmet needs. My therapist told me that hope and expectation are like a tissue box. We have the tool (the box), but not what’s inside (the tissue). I should not have expected others to fill that box but me. I should do that myself.
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Gut and Instincts
“Listen to your guts” and “Trust your instinct” are two words we are all familiar with.
As someone with a “hobby of feeling anxious” (my therapist forbid me to label myself with a disorder; God bless her soul), I was told that anxiety is how our brain tries to protect us. The “fight or flight” response is when our brain detects a threat. Hence, when we feel anxious, fearful, or certain that something’s wrong, we might experience stomach twinges, pain, or nausea. That’s where the name “gut feeling” comes from.
In my case, whenever I feel lonely, my instinct tells me to look inward. Indeed, ever since I returned, I rarely have conversations with myself, and I feel detached from her. I have been missing the “Australia” version of myself. She was so driven and reliable; she could find a home where she felt safe — qualities that I do not see in my current version.
Looking in retrospect, maybe my instinct tries to tell me something — that I am safe when I am with myself. That myself is the home that I have been looking for.
— —
What is home?
“Home is not a structure. The only place it is, is a feeling within you… Home is not a structure. We are the structure … Home is knowing we always have somewhere to run to, and we’ll be just fine, because home is within us…” — Mimi Mwiya
I remember my old writing that human beings are voyagers. As humans, we tend to attach to something and hold onto it very closely. Hence, when that attachment does not work, we feel devastated. But, if we are voyagers, it is natural for us to keep moving in the course of our life.
Then where is — or what is, home for a voyager? Maybe all along, it is within us. As voyagers, we bring home with us throughout our life; when we move from one island to another.
Think of a snail or a turtle who always brings their house with them. They always retreat to their home for safety whenever there is a threat. Learning from them, maybe we do not have to seek a place, or people, to shelter us from pain.
Heartbreak, loneliness, disappointment, rejection, grief, and other kinds of pain are inevitable. But as long as we can provide safety to ourselves, we always know where to go.
Lately, I have been looking for a mantra to get me through hard times. Maybe, this is the mantra that I need: “Home is where I am most myself”. And maybe, this mantra can take me to a journey to find a home in me.
And whoever reading this, I hope you can also find a home within you.
