Culture Shock
I'm home!!!!! Eating raw fruits, doing water sports behind the boat, driving, going to the grocery store, experiencing a mega-church service in the Bible belt... yep. I'm officially back in Nashville and loving it. Still, this isn't to say that my transition hasn't come without a bit of disorientation. My first morning back home, I woke myself up to go for a run. Stretching my achy muscles after all the long flights, I mentally prepared for the blood-pumping, lung-collapsing exercise that was soon to follow. As I took off in my usual near-sprint, I closed my eyes for a moment to appreciate the radiating sun and strange familiarity of my neighborhood. BAM! All of a sudden I'm laid out on the concrete with blood running down my legs and hands as I stare at myself in complete shock. Apparently "culture shock" can sometimes mean that you forget how to put one foot in front of the other without hitting a dip in the curb. Great.
Anyways, after cleaning out all of my cuts and bruises (which are fairly extensive), I started to realize that maybe this unfortunate event was God's way of giving me a metaphorical warning. If I hit the ground running, I'm going to crash and hurt myself. Let me give some context... After arriving in America, the entire gap year group and our leaders and directors spent a few days in a Coloradan cabin writing our life thesis papers and discussing this thing called "culture shock." After our extensive time in foreign countries, our old routines can actually seem disorienting or stressful if they don't bring us as much comfort as they used to. With our shifted perspectives and ideas of "normalcy," our once-home may temporarily seem like a foreign land. Here's a tangible example: the very day that we left this peaceful cabin, we all drove into Denver and almost immediately went shopping for graduation dresses. Much to my disappointment and surprise, I completely hated everything I saw in the stores. The clothes seemed trashy and busy, and I was too tired to try anything on. Since every gap year girl had the same terrible and overwhelming experience, we soon agreed that it was more likely that we were experiencing culture shock than that the entire American fashion community had failed. We had hit the ground running, by sprinting straight from life with the "poorest of the poor" to the heart of American consumerism, and we had crashed.
I'm blessed to say that the "shopping experience" has been the worst encounter with culture shock yet; I've absolutely loved spending time with my parents and brothers these past few days. Still, I've admittedly noticed that I require much more sleep and alone time during this transition. I'm already looking forward to all the fun and excitement that my friends and I will share in these next few weeks, but I appreciate the time I have now to simply process and adjust. It can be overwhelming or depressing to realize that I'll have to reacquaint myself to even my closest friends as we fill each other in on the last few months of our lives. Still, every time that my scabbed and bloody hands hurt, it's a physical reminder that it's alright for me to take my time in my adjustment. As an outgoing optimist, I generally want to be the happiest and most energetic person in the room. However, I'm learning that it's acceptable, maybe even necessary, to possess emotions other than "happy;" humans are made with depth. I'm still very much the fun-loving and enthusiastic girl I've always been, but I never want to sell myself short by repressing reflection and introspection. Although my surreal reality shift doesn't seem to have negatively affected me yet, I'm giving myself the liberty to experience and process whatever emotions come. So far, I've felt shockingly comfortable and peaceful. Sluggish and unready to see everyone? Yes. Nonetheless, I honestly expected to cry through my first few days at the sadness of leaving my gap year family, and I have yet to do so. My continued communication and shared experiences with the gap year students radiates encouragement into my attitude. I'm not alone. Overall, my cuts from my unfortunate collision with the ground will be gone within a week or two. Coincidentally, it's around that time that I expect to be completely back in the swing of my Nashvillean lifestyle and the work/social schedule that it represents. Still, the changes I've experienced in my self-confidence, perceptions, and faith will remain long after that. The gap year improved me as a family member, friend, Christian, and member of the human race. Those are changes that even a little running and falling can't shake off.
Anyways, after cleaning out all of my cuts and bruises (which are fairly extensive), I started to realize that maybe this unfortunate event was God's way of giving me a metaphorical warning. If I hit the ground running, I'm going to crash and hurt myself. Let me give some context... After arriving in America, the entire gap year group and our leaders and directors spent a few days in a Coloradan cabin writing our life thesis papers and discussing this thing called "culture shock." After our extensive time in foreign countries, our old routines can actually seem disorienting or stressful if they don't bring us as much comfort as they used to. With our shifted perspectives and ideas of "normalcy," our once-home may temporarily seem like a foreign land. Here's a tangible example: the very day that we left this peaceful cabin, we all drove into Denver and almost immediately went shopping for graduation dresses. Much to my disappointment and surprise, I completely hated everything I saw in the stores. The clothes seemed trashy and busy, and I was too tired to try anything on. Since every gap year girl had the same terrible and overwhelming experience, we soon agreed that it was more likely that we were experiencing culture shock than that the entire American fashion community had failed. We had hit the ground running, by sprinting straight from life with the "poorest of the poor" to the heart of American consumerism, and we had crashed.
I'm blessed to say that the "shopping experience" has been the worst encounter with culture shock yet; I've absolutely loved spending time with my parents and brothers these past few days. Still, I've admittedly noticed that I require much more sleep and alone time during this transition. I'm already looking forward to all the fun and excitement that my friends and I will share in these next few weeks, but I appreciate the time I have now to simply process and adjust. It can be overwhelming or depressing to realize that I'll have to reacquaint myself to even my closest friends as we fill each other in on the last few months of our lives. Still, every time that my scabbed and bloody hands hurt, it's a physical reminder that it's alright for me to take my time in my adjustment. As an outgoing optimist, I generally want to be the happiest and most energetic person in the room. However, I'm learning that it's acceptable, maybe even necessary, to possess emotions other than "happy;" humans are made with depth. I'm still very much the fun-loving and enthusiastic girl I've always been, but I never want to sell myself short by repressing reflection and introspection. Although my surreal reality shift doesn't seem to have negatively affected me yet, I'm giving myself the liberty to experience and process whatever emotions come. So far, I've felt shockingly comfortable and peaceful. Sluggish and unready to see everyone? Yes. Nonetheless, I honestly expected to cry through my first few days at the sadness of leaving my gap year family, and I have yet to do so. My continued communication and shared experiences with the gap year students radiates encouragement into my attitude. I'm not alone. Overall, my cuts from my unfortunate collision with the ground will be gone within a week or two. Coincidentally, it's around that time that I expect to be completely back in the swing of my Nashvillean lifestyle and the work/social schedule that it represents. Still, the changes I've experienced in my self-confidence, perceptions, and faith will remain long after that. The gap year improved me as a family member, friend, Christian, and member of the human race. Those are changes that even a little running and falling can't shake off.
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