Previously, we talked about how to spot in one’s psyche, the desire to expatriate, even for just a little while. We all do it to some degree with a vacation, getting away from the mundane to embrace a temporary sort of life that gives us the mental boost to soldier on, or as they say in my former neck of the woods, ‘cowboy-up’ to the responsibilities of life. So, we all have a need to expatriate for brief times over our lifetimes.
What makes a vacation turn into expatriation? Let’s start by saying what expatriation isn’t. It isn’t just running away from responsibility, because at some point, no matter where you live, life does require certain things from us as humans…you’re an adult, you understand. It also isn’t that I hate my country (although the politics can be upsetting) or my southern heritage, or that I am ashamed to be an American in any shape or form. Quite the opposite really, I am still a proud American and Southerner (yes, and in that order–surprised?). And barring any legal reasons for leaving your country of origin, I think most of us love our heritages and the countries from which we hail.
Yep, I can hear you thinking–so, if expats are proud of their country, then why do they leave? I can only answer for myself and each individual has their own reasons for wanting to plant new roots. For me, it was simply to experience something I couldn’t find at home: new cultures, norms, attitudes, sights, sounds and having more of a sense of the world, of which I was only a small part–this is the paradox of being an expat. By this I mean, the very thing that draws us into this experience is the very thing that can make it so joyful and paradoxically, so difficult and often painful. Frankly, I don’t care for the term, ‘expatriate’ or ‘expat’, because the term does seem to imply some degree of dissatisfaction or alienation from one’s country, but I guess we can thank SEO for propagating the term, yes, I’m being cheeky here.
Where did my vacation turn into expatriation? The short answer is well, over a man. A man from my past (13 years to be exact) that re-entered my life and boy howdy, did my life turn like a dog’s hind leg! Yes, I wanted to experience all that life had to offer, but just like every dreamer, sometimes it’s more comfortable to feed the dream versus live it. When push comes to shove, even dreamers can be afraid to look down into the cavern of change and jump. But at that moment of truth, (such as the night before the movers arrive and your whole life is either in a box or sold) you finally let go, both with tears and hopeful expectations.