On expatriatism: adjustment.

ex·pa·tri·ate (noun) – a person who lives in a foreign country.

“Adjustment” is such an ambiguous term, one that you must chase down and catch, one that has lead me down the rabbit hole many a time in quiet reflection on what it means to me and my life in the UK.  The trouble is there isn’t anyone out there who is going to tell you that you are doing it right or wrong, no judges to hold up scorecards for how well you crossed the road without getting killed in a blind mistake of looking the wrong way before stepping off the curb, no cosmic report card to give you a letter grade on your emotional stability, no goal to aim for in a divine number of how many people one forms social connections with.  Instead, you have to look within and decide for yourself whether or not you could be classified as “adjusted” or, even better, “well adjusted” … and that is where the difficulty lies.

When you are a foreigner in a foreign land it isn’t necessarily a dynamic that occupies your every waking thought.  Once you’ve done the settling bit and you’ve got the job to go to every day, the friends to meet after work, and the husband (or what have you) to snuggle up with as the day comes to a close it is surprising in how infrequently this HUGE aspect of your life is contemplated.  You may think nothing of the funny-looking coins you use on a daily basis, the second story of the bus you’ve just boarded, or the accents of the people around you… the vast majority of the time.  Then suddenly out of nowhere the concept that YOU (yes, you) are halfway around the world from everything you’ve known your entire life on this grand adventure in a foreign country hits you like a ton of bricks.  One of these times for me occurred pre-pregnancy as Jen, Alicja, and I enjoyed a glass of wine each whilst standing out on Jen’s balcony that overlooked the park across the way in one direction and a busy city roundabout in the other.  I can remember standing there on that summer night with my two good friends, one American and one Polish, and expressing this overwhelming feeling that just hit me, that I live HERE… what the hell?

I used to be a member of an online community for Americans in the UK and my posts were easy to find because they were the ones burdened with negativity.  I had a difficult two years in which I resisted the culture and the way of life at every turn.  But like the proverbial river I found that once I let go and stopped struggling everything was far easier when just going with the flow.  After the debacle with my Indefinite Leave to Remain visa I swore I would never give another penny in immigration fees, but now I am planning to go for citizenship.  Also, I’ve got a new goal on the table: driver’s licence by the end of the year.    I am such a different person now from that pessimistic girl who, only as little as half a year ago, still wanted to move her family back to the US as soon as possible. Every single day the adjustment and my life as an expat gets easier and the emotional turmoil inside that once consumed me has all but died it’s death.   It was a rough ride initially, one that I thought would make or break me, but now I feel as though I’ve come out on the other side, not completely unscathed but stronger and happier for it nonetheless.

I still get that feeling, one of “oh my gosh I live here!” but it’s different than before.  Sometimes it comes to me when walking Moo down our quiet, tree lined street, or looking out at the vast sea and the sailboats dotting the horizon, or walking to the pub to meet my friends, or having a quiet movie night curled up on the couch with my husband.  I think to myself “I LIVE here” and it’s not so much the “here” bit that’s important anymore, but more the “LIVE.”  That’s what I am doing.

Finally.