All these moves have made me practically expert at being new, so wonderfully experienced
at being inexperienced. Irony and contradiction, both. I’m writing to work my own way through how I’m
feeling about the latest bout of repatriation and maybe help some others who
are trying it for the first time. It’s the new ones who look for input from the
outside and thus will follow whatever tags led them here. Those of us on our
umpteenth new home know we have to look inside ourselves, there's more help there than we might imagine.
The circumstances of being new have shifted since my own first moves. Starting out in Kosovo, Guinea,
Sierra Leone, and Bangladesh, my initial contacts were torn stubs of
paper with scribbled telephone numbers. Vietnam, Atlanta, San
Francisco, and Doha had various levels of online groups to join. With this one somehow I’m back to having no online
group and with social media-based connections that seem more flimsy than those penciled phone numbers.
It’s hard every time in new ways, partly because the kids
and I are all at different stages in our lives, partly because moving is hard
work, no matter what. I read this
article recently that I liked, about how it
feels to repatriate to a place that you felt was home and how it won’t be, it
can’t be. Making it work requires lowering and shifting expectations. I do love
it here and I suspect the bouts of struggling with it are just phases. I’m hoping intensely
that it’s just a phase. Isn’t that the base of so much? Trying to decide if
whatever you’re dealing with is worth it to work hard on and pass through or if
you should abandon it because
staying’s worse than leaving. Three years is our max in one place, let's see if we can beat that this time around.
What follows are some loose suggestions and ideas for you new ones and you experienced ones who want to
commiserate, and for me to read every once in awhile if I'm losing perspective. Really they apply as
much to new expat homes as to being a repat, though remember that as a repat community-building
and friend-making go soo muuucchh mooorrrre sloooooooowwlllllyyyy than in the
speedy expat world.
Rules
There’s only one, with a twist: accept all invitations, complicated
by the combination of remembering that you don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re
not while trying to keep conversations going with people to see where
connections can be made. I suppose it comes down to “stay interested but don’t lie.”
Choices:
A few weeks ago I had a choice: drive a couple of hours to
go skiing with people I have known for a long time, with whom I know I have
things in common, or go to a village event where it’s likely I will meet new
neighbors and just maybe some of them will eventually turn out to be friends. Against my own rules I opted to meet up with the old
friends and was glad. We skied, we caught up, and I reconnected with fellow
Vermonters, even if they live two hours away. Lessons: make time with people who share some
of your history, and break your own rules once in awhile.
Roots
I don’t think the roots are a given, that you can do those
on purpose. I think those grow and then after years and years you just realize
you have them. I thought I had them
here- I grew up in this state after all and worked here and finished undergrad
and went to grad school here and I love it. Isn’t that enough? I’m starting to
think no. On this return I’m feeling like an imposter, ready to hand in my
Vermonter credentials and pretend I have to learn everything from scratch. But
I shouldn’t, right? I know where maple syrup comes from and how to get around
Burlington on foot, bike, and in a car. I know back roads in three counties. I
remember when the Nordic ski center at Bolton Valley was a little shack with a
woodstove in it. It’s confusing to be both native and foreign at the same time.
I’m not worrying about it too much.
We serial expats benefit by letting go of our identities being tied to any one place, and that becomes most clear upon repatriation. There has always been some contention
over who gets to be American, with the most recent arrivals being the ones who
are least welcome to claim it, as though it’s a single continuum of arrival. Those
of us who started here and then left and came back and left again, or stayed
away for a long time, may have USA on our passports but feel less American than some who have most of their lives here and aren't yet citizens.
Reading about it
You can read all the blogs and memes you want but really you
are the one who has to make it home. Reading just puts it off so don’t overdo
it.
There’s a genre of repat narratives that mostly involve
complaining that people don’t “get” us, that they have no interest in where
we’ve been or all the places we hold inside of us, and that’s why it’s so hard
to assimilate back into our home country and make friends. In my experience a good number of the people who are interested are often more interested in the story, which in Vermont just emphasizes our differences. It’s valuable to find other ways to connect than just talking about yourself.
Finally I can’t be much help to my fellow recent repats, except for the same old thing I
tell myself: that as long as you make some effort and some occasional progress,
little by little the new home will feel like home eventually or you will give
up and move back abroad. (we have not gotten to this phase yet, so don’t even
think about starting to worry, parents and other concerned friends). Big world,
lotta people, lotta possibilities, don’t beat yourself up.
I’m trying to write about what it’s like a year into repatriation
without giving advice on how to get here*. It wouldn't help to hear there will have
been unexpected growth and grounding when you’re only six months in and it’s
the dead of winter and you still don’t have any friends in your tiny village
(why did I think I would be happy in a tiny village anyway after decades living
in cities??) and you’re missing all your old friends like crazy. 
