Homesickness is a funny thing. We all have an inherent understanding of what it is. No one has ever needed to have homesickness explained to them. Even when we’re younger and someone has to tell us that it’s normal to be homesick, a definition is never really given. And the thing is, at the ripe old age of 22, I am homesick for the first time in my life and it’s really throwing me off.
And my lack of experience is not for lack of chances to experience it. I did all the things you’re supposed to do as a kid to get used to homesickness and learn how to deal with it. Girl Scout camp, 4H camp, Bible camp, Young Life camp. I’m sure maybe the first time I was scared of the dark, but that’s as close as I got to real emotional trauma.
I spent two weeks in Nepal with my Dad when I was 14. Not so much with the missing things. But then, I was in Nepal and I had my Dad with me, which is a pretty strong connection to home. Went to a three-week long camp in Pennsylvania the same year. Called home once, only because I received an e-mail from my parents threatening consequences if I didn’t. The thought of home just never crossed my mind at the time. Returned the next year and managed to call home more often, only out of conscious effort.
Went to college a twelve hour drive from home, not having a friend within an eight hour radius. Felt… something. Loneliness was the term I used to describe it then, and still think it’s most appropriate. Was happy where I was, didn’t really want to go back, just needed something… familiar. Spent summers either working as a camp counselor or traveling on a bus, essentially pushing a temporary reset button on my life for two to three month segments at a time. Missed people, but nothing really worth mentioning or even writing in my diary.
But now, what I’ve got is enough that I’m even mentioning it in public. And believe me, this is not like me. But I know some of the people who read this have done a bit of traveling/reset button pushing themselves and I’m looking for thoughts.
What’s funny is that it’s so hit and miss. When I first got here, I assumed it would be just like every other time I’ve picked up and moved somewhere. The leaving part sucked, but once I got wherever I was going, I was just there. Why would I dwell on something that just wasn’t a part of my current life? It just didn’t make sense to me. And so I came here, and I started trying to live here. I spoke more and more German; I ate bread with Mandelmuss; I put my family’s organic Mandelmuss down on my list things I was probably going to miss; I vowed to get Anna to teach me how to make jam before I leave; I started planning trips; I started finding ways to meet people and so on and so on. There was a bit more exhaustion and feeling overwhelmed than normal, but let’s remember that I had just moved to a country where I spoke the native language at, on my best days, an intermediate level. And I was actually occasionally crying, which was also weird for me, but I put it down to the exhaustion.
And then the past few weeks, it just hit me. Suddenly, I was sitting around just thinking about my friends in other places and feeling that actual physical ache, where the want is so strong that you go psychosomatic for a few minutes. I wasn’t crying. Just longing to not be here. To not be here in this place that was absolutely amazing and beautiful and to not be here with these kids that I love and to just book a plane ticket and come home (home being, at this point, a strange amalgamation of about four or five distinct locations). This is the sort of thing I’d been dreaming of doing for years and now that I had it, I had this weird thing, that made me not want it and I’ve never had to deal with that before. I knew all the cures and tricks (spending two summers coaching children through homesickness will ingrain these things) and was trying to stay busy, focusing on writing, e-mailing – but not calling, because for some strange reason, that often increases homesickness – and planning future trips, but it just wasn’t shaking. The only thing I enjoyed thinking of was leaving.
I woke up last Wednesday morning in an absolutely foul mood for no good reason at all, except that I had fallen asleep wanting to be Not Here and I woke up in much the same state and remained so throughout the day. Add this to the fact that the next day was the first day of my German course and I was nervous because A) when I registered, the school hadn’t been able to guarantee that I would actually have a spot and B) the woman helping me had actually mentioned that my placement score was on the low end for my given course and that maybe I should register for the course below it. For a couple of reasons, I stuck with the higher level course (assuming there was room for me), but I was still far from comfortable with the idea.
Then the next morning I woke up early and rushed through my morning routine to get to the bus stop at what my watch said was two minutes too late to catch my bus and what my cell phone said was two minutes early. I got on the bus and stared out the window, giving myself heartburn worrying that I wouldn’t recognize my stop (I knew the neighborhood I was going to, but had never taken this bus before).
And then I got off at the right stop and arrived in plenty of time (Suprised? I was too.) There were three other girls there and after a few minutes, we were shown into the classroom. I sat down at the table and started classroom-style small talk with the people sitting next to me. And the teacher walked in and rearranged the tables because we needed more room, as always seems to happen. And there were visual aids on the walls, reminding me what the word for “toes” was. And we went through a test as a class and had to give each other stupid simple interviews using questions from a worksheet, which included the hilariously morbid and awkward question, “How do you want to die?” and so, of course, everyone in the class used it in an attempt to jive up what would otherwise be a boring list of one word answers.
And the class ended. And for the first time in weeks, I was actually glad to be here. Was actually glad to be struggling to understand a person speaking German in a very thick South Korean accent. To be meeting these people from so many different places. It was an injection of familiar, of something I’ve actually done before, a formula so regular and predictable that it didn’t matter what the variables were.
And so for the past few days, I’ve been all right. I’m still not sure whether or not I’m going to stay for a second year and I still have to remind myself every now and then that this is something that I do want, but it hasn’t been a plague. It’s just been moments. And then I drink some tea and color with Kilian or play “Rabbits Running Away from a Jaguar” with Hannah or re-teach Lena my favorite method of making string bracelets and then I’m fine for awhile. I still can’t stop thinking about next year and coming home, but it’s in a way that doesn’t depress me as much.
But then, this conflicts heavily with the fact that I just saw “Sicko” and have now sworn I’m never to be at the mercy of the American health care system, so I’m not sure how I’m gonna work that one out.
But here are my questions for people who’ve done this (meaning, actually been homesick) before:
How long would you say your “homesick period” lasted? How do you draw the line between being homesick and needing to go home? Those of you who have stayed or returned to someplace you would call “Not Home,” why? And what led you to feeling like that was the right decision?
I’m going on my sixth year abroad, and it just keeps getting easier. But I too learned plenty my first year.
First of all, communication with home has never been better or easier. I taught my parents, grandparents and other relatives how to skype. Plenty of my friends already do or can easily be reached by some other form of instant messenger. I made a commitment to high-speed internet in my home; no matter the cost, it is essential to my sanity and my feelings of keeping in touch. You have to remember, if you were at “home,” you would still be far from the family and friends you love and keeping in touch over the phone. It’s really not all that different (except the time difference, of course). How much would an upgrade to DSL cost? Would the family consider it?
Second of all, I go home for Christmas and let the ‘rents buy the tickets and don’t feel guilty about it. We let the cost make the decision for us the first year and both sides of the Atlantic were miserable. It is good to know that you will be going home at a regular time every year. Also, Christmas is a good time, because most of my friends from high school (like my best friend) are also often “home” at that time, so I see lots of people I wouldn’t at another time of year (like summer).
Third, I used to write a lot of letters and postcards (and I still do, when I have the chance to send them to the States with someone, because postal costs are so damn high I can’t support my habit) and encouraged people to write me. Send out an email to everyone with your address and remind them to write!
Fourth, I cook all the time: I cook lots of foods I love, even if they’re not German or Russian. Warm chocolate chip cookies, apple crisp, thick-crust pizza, broccoli and cheese soup, barbeque chicken legs — a little taste of home can work wonders. For things that are difficult to find in Europe (brown sugar, chocolate chips), you may often have to tote them over in your suitcase (or have them toted by family and friends).
Fifth, I think a really important thing is to get past the feeling of being a guest, of being temporary, to the point where you feel settled and somewhat rooted. For me, roots involves the people at the bakery or produce stand recognizing me and knowing my order before I give it, it means getting mail at my address, maybe even a newspaper subscription, it means knowing which store to find X in, it means having people to go out for coffee with, some sort of activity I’m involved in weekly, etc. I am a person for whom STUFF helps me feel rooted, so I have a lot of STUFF which makes my place feel like home: photos, decorations, music, books, bedding, whatever. I can’t stand living out of a suitcase. Are you? If so, UNPACK IT NOW.
Finally, as good as it is to try and fit in, it’s also okay to revel in your differences. That means celebrating American holidays with zest (you have your pumpkin ready to carve, no?) and teaching everyone you know that sweet potatoes exist, that pie made from pumpkins is tasty, what “stuffing” is, and recounting the third-grade version of pilgrims and Indians. That means wearing your white sneakers if you wanna. That means reading English books. That also means finding someone who feels your pain about the little differences and talking/complaining with them regularly. Solidarity is essential.
Keep working on your language skills. The more you feel you’re able to do in German, the better you will feel all around. At the intermediate level, you make the most progress quickly, so you should keep feeling that things are getting easier and people understand you more.
Traveling can be good too, taking a little break from the pressures of your everyday. Come and visit Berlin, for example! There are plenty of low-budget ways to get here and I’m happy to help you find them.
When I go to Russia (to me Europe is a relief in comparison and I hardly experience any “shock” anymore), I am generally down till about Dec/Jan, when things start to look up. People comment that my language skills have improved, the days start to get lighter, you’ve turned a mental corner towards spring and whatever’s coming next. At that point, I’m better able to deal (i.e. without tears) with all the little disappointments and frustrations.
Chin up! The most important thing is to understand that these feelings are natural and not get too worried about it (do I sound like Richard Bright yet?). If it would help, jot down in a little notebook the things you really like about where you’re living and what you’re doing as they come to you. Write out how you’re feeling in a journal to process it a bit. Keep note of words you’re learning and remember the things you couldn’t do or say a month ago that are old hat now.
And if none of that helps — well then I guess you’re hopeless and should go home already
It lasted about 8 months for me. I actually cracked that first year and went back for the holidays and realised all the reasons I left america in the first place. I actual was more homesick for Austria than I was for home (cali) when I was here. Big thing is having long time friends around. After being here for 7 years now I have built a good base to depend on. If you get some time off try making it out to Vienna to hang! We are a warm bunch.
Hey, a skype date sounds wonderful. I miss your advice and wisdom. when are you free? I’m choosing between the same two things and it’s so fucking hard
Hilary, thanks for all the advice. Where I’m struggling is not that my sense of feeling at home unfortunately revolves around people and places, which are not so much transportable. I’m having some luck finding people, but finding places is strangely a bit harder right now. I’m starting to fall in love with the Mirabelle Gardens and my runs along the Salzach. Now I just need to find somewhere indoors to help get me through winter.
Chris, I was just in Vienna last weekend! I sent you an SMS, but you never responded! That is not my definition of warm, friend. I even brought your shirt with me so I could give it back to you!
Becky, I feel like we’re probably choosing between the same two things, so I’m not sure how much help I can be this time. I sent you an e-mail though! I miss you!
Sorry Amanda I was in Moscow last weekend
so even if I got your sms (which must be lost in sms space) I wouldn’t have been able to meet up!
What are your plans for New Year’s? I sent you a PM on vienna-expats. Check your messages of send me an e-mail.
How did you like Vienna? What did you do?