Reverse culture shock and also pictures of a cemetery (I swear the two aren't related though)

Today’s weather forecast: rain and clouds with a chance of IF I DON’T SEE THE SUN SOON I’M GOING TO KILL SOMEBODY.

That’s not actually what I want to write about today, I just needed to get that out.

What I actually wanted to talk about is reverse culture shock, otherwise known as re-entry, which is when you return from being abroad and are adjusting to being back in your own culture and country. The past month or so I’ve been listening to these podcasts from Small Planet Studio about re-entry and different aspects of international education and global living, and it has really made me think about my experiences with this subject (check them out, they’re amazing:

 http://www.smallplanetstudio.com) .

When I returned from studying abroad for a month in 2009 I had no idea what reverse culture shock was. The program that I went with told us nothing about it, and so upon my return, when I sunk into a serious bout of depression that lasted for months, I had no idea what was going on. Why did no one want to hear my fabulous stories? Why did I feel so restless and stuck and irritable? Why did I feel that the best part of my life was clearly over and it was all downhill from here and at 18 I might as well just accept sweet death now? I dealt with these problems by not dealing with them (hello denial, my old friend), and instead threw myself into work and applying for college, and eventually my troubles subsided.

Then in 2012 I decided to go for round two when I studied abroad in Italy. This time it was a little bit different; during our (mandatory) study abroad pre-departure meeting in December the subject of re-entry was briefly mentioned and that was that (“Yeah so this thing called reverse culture shock is a thing. And it might happen to you. So…yeah.”) (also I was sick and on a lot of Day-Quil during that meeting so I don’t think anything they told me really registered). When I returned to the U.S. in May I thought I was handling things better by both throwing myself into work (again) and realizing that no one wanted to hear how much wine I had consumed in Rome or how many different flavors of gelato I had tried in Florence or that one time that I celebrated my 21^st birthday at Carnivale in Venice.

But it turns out that I was wrong, I was not handling things better, because when I went back to school that fall I felt so out of place and disconnected. I had been away from Boston and school for nine months, and I felt like everything had changed and I had changed, and I didn't know where I fit in anymore. My school didn't offer much in the way of help for returning study abroad students, but luckily I had friends who were going through the same thing (sorry but also thanks guys), and by commiserating (and wine) we managed to get through it.

And now here I am, abroad for the third time, and wondering how I will handle my eventual return to the U.S. equipped with this new knowledge.

Because here’s the thing; you can’t expect to go back and have things be the same. “Things” won’t be the same because you aren't the same. You can’t go back to your old life because essentially it isn't there anymore. You've got to build a new life, and that’s the part that I am excited for.

So here is my question (because I am genuinely curious about this), for my friends or anyone else who has ever studied, traveled, lived, or worked abroad: how did you handle reverse culture shock? Did you know it existed? How did it make you feel? For example, did you want to punch someone and then hop on the next plane back to Italy like I did? What advice would you give to people who are going through it/what worked for you?

Update: the sun came out for a little while today. Crisis averted, I don’t need to kill anyone anymore (FOR NOW).

Why it’s good that moving to Germany to teach English has taught me that I neither want to teach English nor live in Germany

This time last week I was at home in Pennsylvania, curled up on my couch with a fever of 102, as my family kept their distance while providing me with copious amounts of hot tea, chicken soup, and a variety of cold medicines.

To say that I was not expecting to spend my Christmas vacation that way would be an understatement. I was expecting a quiet Christmas in which I spent some time with my teacher from my old school, read an obscene number of books, cursed the horrible German weather, and generally avoided thinking about the fact that it was the holidays and I wasn't home with my family where I wanted to be.

Instead of doing all of that, on Christmas Eve my mom texted me and asked if I wanted to come home, and, long story short, I ended up doing just that, and it was exactly what I needed, and here’s the reason why. First, and most obvious of all, I missed my family, but perhaps the more pressing issue was that I needed some perspective on my situation, because here’s the deal:

A few weeks ago I had an epiphany.

This seems to be happening quite a lot since I arrived here, but this one was kind of big. Huge. Massive even. I don’t know exactly what provoked it, but suddenly I just realized that:

a) Germany was not for me

b) Teaching was not for me

and c) I was pretty sure that deep down I had already known both of those facts long before I had arrived in Hamburg.

But Alethea, you say, you applied to this prestigious program so that you could teach English in Germany for ten months. And now you’re saying that you never wanted it?!

Yes, that is exactly what I’m saying. And at first my main thought was, “Wow, I’m an idiot, why did I do this?”

Except that I’m not an idiot. I would never have known for sure that I didn't want to live in Germany unless I moved to Germany to try it out. I would never have known for sure that I definitely didn't want to teach unless I had gotten a contract to teach for almost a year. Had I stayed put in Boston I wouldn't have figured these things out.

My second thought was, “Well, now what?

Now I enjoy the rest of my time here and try to make the most of it. Now, once again, I rethink what it is I want to do with my life and where exactly I want to do it. Already I have a pretty good idea of what I should be doing and where I want to be doing it, but who knows what life will throw at me in the next six and a half months? It has already been amazing adventure and it’s not even halfway over yet.

(To be entirely honest I’ve been putting this off /pondering how to write about this for a while, because I feel like it’s kind of a touchy subject and I didn't want to, I dunno, offend anyone. First of all, the whole thing made me feel like because I wasn't in love with Germany and because I didn't unearth a deep undying passion for teaching that I had somehow failed. I also didn't want to be that person who was “ungrateful” for an amazing experience that they’d been given, or for it to sound like I was complaining about my situation. I am in no way ungrateful for this experience, and I am in no way complaining. After all, I got myself into this mess, and I am still going to get something out of it and put something into it, but it has simply not been quite what I imagined. And I did promise to tell the truth about my experience here, so there it is).

(On a more pleasant note, my new school is absolutely amazing and I love it there. More about that at a later date).