Repatriation

It’s been almost 9 months since we moved back to our home country after four years abroad.  In some ways, we are now settled into our new “old” lives once again.  Back in the same house, in the same town, with similar neighbors, friends, schools & family close by.

If you squint, it's hard for some friends to remember that we were ever gone for that long, but we know the difference, and to us, the sense of home will always be slightly off.  

Each member of our family of four is very different from who we were before we left, and forever changed by this experience.  We are still splicing our family’s story with the markers of “Before Singapore” and “After Singapore”.  Our memories are so full of the friends, experiences, places we traveled to, food we loved, smells we adored or couldn’t stand, and foreign customs that became an integral part of our family’s memories.

I can still recall our first year in Singapore, when the kids’ school informed us that they would be celebrating Chinese New Year as a school community. We were used to celebrating many different high holidays in New York, but never expected to participate in the traditions alongside people from other cultures or religions.  We were told that this would be very different.  The kids would all be encouraged to dress in traditional Chinese outfits and take part in the dances, songs, food, and storytelling that underscored the importance of this celebration.

So, without really knowing what exactly the right outfit was or how much would be deemed “too much”, I headed down to the Chinatown Complex Market & Food Center to see if I could find something.  I was overwhelmed the moment I stepped into this enormous open-air market across from the Buddha Tooth Temple.  They had such a wide variety of dresses, shirts, pants, headdresses, bags, and red envelopes with every design you could think of.  It was the year of the tiger, and people were ready to celebrate, maybe more so, because of the restrictions that we still found ourselves within. (There were still restrictions on how many people could gather at one time, and were still observing mask mandates both inside and outside) 

I looked through so many stalls, and every vendor promised me the best price, but what I really wanted them to promise was that I was getting the “right” outfits for this celebration.   

When I returned home with a cascade of red dresses and shirts intricately patterned with gold, my kids looked suspiciously at the outfits, unsure whether they were meant to wear them to school as instructed.  They wanted to enjoy the celebrations, but this was new for all of us. We were being asked to wear different clothes,  participate in new celebrations, and take on new roles as active participants in the culture, not just mere onlookers. And once we were able to accept those new roles, we finally ceased being foreign tourists and became part of this new Singaporean community.

As I look back, I realize that this was how I attempted to live my expat experience.  I wanted to do it without the pains and hurdles.  I didn’t want to misstep.  I didn’t want the internal struggle that came with the experience, and I certainly didn’t want people to see that I was struggling.  I wasn’t clear about how much we would actually need to adjust our expectations to settle into this new reality.

But what I learned then is what I am also relearning now.  Big changes come with lots of hurdles, and none of it is seamless, even when you are going through the experience in reverse.  It was going to look unpolished just like our first big move abroad, because it was.  And guess what, the same thing applies to the return trip.

Nothing seems like it was before, even though so much looks the same.  It’s as if one morning I walked into my closet and saw all of my things hanging where I left them the night before, arranged in the same order, with maybe one or two things rearranged. 

At first, it feels like everything is pretty much where I left it.  But then I start trying things on, and item after item doesn’t quite fit.  But not in the same way (not a weight loss or gain issue)

It’s either too big, too small, out of style or feels like someone else’s clothes.

It’s the strangest experience: I logically know these are my clothes, but then can’t reconcile why nothing fits.  That’s when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and realize it’s not the clothes; it’s me.  I am NOT the same person anymore. I can’t force myself to fit into my old self’s things.

I spent quite a few months mourning those old identities, the ones I held before and during Singapore.  I had thought they were such an integral part of who I was, and it’s been hard to let those versions of myself go.  Yet what I have come to understand is that the person I have become is so much more evolved, sure of my own voice, and far more resilient than those old versions could ever be.   

And thankfully I’ve continued to evolve as a woman, a storyteller, a businesswoman, a friend, a mother, a wife, and a global citizen.

I’ve made it a point to stop forcing myself to fit into the outfits of my past, but instead to

take delight in what fits me today.   It’s the difference between acting out a role (even one that you know quite well how to play) vs. being your authentic self without pretense or being held to past that no longer serves me.

When I started this process of returning to my home country, I became obsessed with looking back at my time living abroad through the rearview mirror, growing increasingly anxious as I pulled further away from the image of who I was, both before and after expat life.

With more time invested in this "new" life, I’ve been working to focus on the resilient person who is sitting in the driver's seat now, fully capable of taking myself to the next stop on my life’s destination.