Reverse Culture Shock

It’s been 14 months since I moved back to the U.S. By now, I thought I’d be packing for a move back to Asia. But life had other plans. Then again, if you know me, you know I don’t plan much of anything.

Before I even left Asia, I had a pit in my stomach. I didn’t want to go. It didn’t feel right. But I missed Ellie, my dog, and I missed my friends and family. People were getting married, having kids, and my parents were aging. I felt like I needed to be back. To share those moments with the people I love.

I was welcomed back with a raging cold and the unmistakable aroma of an LAX bathroom. Within my first week, I had to empty my storage unit and go to the DMV because my license had expired. The silver lining? All I wanted to do was sleep, so jet lag barely phased me. My new driver’s license photo now suggests I could moonlight as a Russian spy.

Call me dramatic, but moving back to California felt like the worst kind of breakup. I slept all the time and had no motivation to do the things I once loved. The saving grace was Ellie, and my friends Courtney and Zack, who dragged me out of the house and made sure I met new people. Making friends in a mountain town has somehow been harder than making friends as a foreigner in South Korea.

Being back hasn’t been easy. Finding a place to land. Finding a job. In the past year alone, I’ve had three jobs, lived in two places, had knee surgery, and lost two family members. Now, I’m gearing up for three weddings, two bachelorette parties, and a baby shower. This year doesn’t even feel like mine. It belongs to the people I love. And while that’s what I thought I wanted, part of me is selfish. I want time for myself. I want to travel again. To feel untethered.

I’m incredibly lucky to live where I do, but I miss the feeling of the unknown. Having my year planned out this neatly makes me feel like an adult.

Currently plotting how to change that.