Jun 8, 2015 |
Ahh transition. I teach this stuff. I do seminars. I write a blog for crying out loud. So I hate it when it actually applies to me.
Some of the best advice I ever got about transition (from a friend who also teaches this stuff) is that we are all like a cup with water in it (following me so far?). If there’s a little water in your cup you can put a tennis ball in there and the water level rises but there is still plenty of room for more water (translation – you got this). HOWEVER — If your cup is full . . . I mean to the brim full . . . and you put a tiny little peanut in there — the whole thing overflows.
What you’re left with is a mess.
That’s a pretty accurate illustration of my day.
I am full. To the brim — and today the peanut left a mess.
A bit of context. We’re moving to China (again) in a matter of weeks. We don’t have visas yet — or a place to live. I’ve got a boatload of stuff to do and I’m running out of time to do it. I’m trying really hard to say healthy goodbyes and help my family do the same. We’ve got stuff — too much stuff — stuff that we need to both get rid of and continue to use until the day we leave. Money is tight. Schedules are crazy. And time is moving much too fast.
My cup is full.
Enter peanut.
Turns out when my cup overflows I revert to my four year old self. I huff and I puff and I stomp away mad. I say things like “Oh yeah!! Well you’re a doody head . . . you big . . . doody head!!” I do things so childishly embarrassing that I would never dare write them in a blog post for the whole internet to read.
So for now I’ll stick to some painful lessons learned:
Lesson #1. Transition takes up space
If you (like me) are in the middle of a major life transition – that transition is hogging a big chunk of your cup. Parts of you are consumed by the simple fact that everything is about to change. You can try your hardest to move forward like today is just another day but you can’t escape the simple truth that is just around the corner (and hanging over your head).
Transition changes everything. That’s why they call it transition.
Lesson #2: Knowing is ONLY half the battle
GI Joe was right — “Knowing IS half the battle” which is a very sweet thought (thanks for that Joe) — but you’ve still got the other half of the battle to fight. Take me for example. Seconds before I stomped off like a four year old I said, and I quote, “my cup is overflowing . . .”
I knew what was happening. I called it out. I watched my cup overflow . . . and yet . . . still acted like a child.
It’s helpful to know the simple truths like “transition takes up space” but that doesn’t make you spill proof. No one escapes the evil clutches of massive life change.
Lesson #3: Momentary overflow does NOT define me
I had a bad day. I acted like a child. Truly unbecoming.
Ok. I own it. I take responsibility. But that’s not who I am every day. I didn’t act like that yesterday and I won’t act like that tomorrow.
Who you are in your worst moments is not who you are. It’s painful to discover what’s inside of you and likely to come out in the overflow. It’s also sobering to consider what you can be reduced to in your most vulnerable moments but those moments don’t mark you forever.
Move forward.
Lesson #4: If you are fortunate enough to receive grace don’t take it for granted
No one is at their best when their cup is full. That’s a given. There is a simple and unfortunate reality though that hurting people . . . hurt people. If this applies to you and you are blessed enough to have people in your life who recognize that you are not acting like yourself (when you are not acting like yourself). . . you are rich beyond measure.
DON’T let that be lost on you.
Lesson #5: Embrace the Yuck
Let’s get real. Parts of this transition are not at all good. In fact, they are bad.
For me it is the coming week. It’s going to suck the life out of me. There is no way around it. I’m going to work my tail off, stress like crazy, stay up late, get up early and go nuts in the process.
But it will end.
It’s going to be a hard week . . . but the week after that is going to be pretty cool.
I’m gonna’ make it . . . but ignoring the hard stuff isn’t why.
Lesson #6: If you’re cup is full – find a way to lower it
This is where it helps to know yourself. What refuels you? What gives you rest and energy and resets you for the next round of transition challenge?
My best bit of brilliant advice — do that.
Take it from me — not as a blogging, trainer who’s supposed to know something about transition but as an embarrassed doody head who is rounding out a bad day — you’ve GOT to be willing to give grace . . . and receive it. Tomorrow could be better.
Transition rarely comes without a mess but messes are rarely so horrible that they cannot be cleaned up.
I am so excited about tomorrow.
Alright — Confession time — Got some childish, overflow moments? You are not alone. Share them below and you might feel better — and even if you actually are the worst one ever — think of all of the people who will feel better because they’re not as bad as you.
Jun 1, 2015 |
Two years ago exactly we were in the process of repatriating (moving “home” to the U.S. after 7 years in China). Our lives became consumed with the quest to reduce all of our belongings into 8 suit cases. We failed but just barely.
Part of my transition back to the States was discovering something that I really hated about myself. I have never been a stuff guy. I have plenty of issues but materialism has just never been one of them. All of the sudden, though, I was feeling overwhelmingly greedy and sorry for myself. Walking through the homes of our old friends I could feel my internal organs ranting.
“They have furniture!” my gut would say “IN TWO DIFFERENT ROOMS!!”
To which my heart would respond, “and look! Cutco knives! The whole set! We don’t even have spoons!”
My lungs would gasp and mock, “oooooh . . . an air purifier . . . must be nice.”
It was the most pathetic midlife crisis I have ever heard of. I couldn’t even fathom daydreaming of a red convertible. I just wanted a bicycle . . . and maybe a TV.
Our friends, whom we were once on a level with stuffwise, had continued to move forward on the timeline of accumulation, uninterrupted. We, on the other hand, had downsized the entirety of our possessions to what would fit on the plane . . . twice.
There was considerable jealousy and subsequent guilt.
That was two years and several dozen yard sales ago. Now my organs are freaking out once again because . . . frankly . . . we have too much stuff.
And we’re leaving again.
Oi.
This is what I (along with my organs) am learning about transition and stuff:
1. Yard sale equity is not a sustainable, long term, financial model
We spent two summers restocking our lives with other people’s stuff. Then we tried to sell it all to different people in one day. While I did make a hefty 200% profit ($2.25) on one of our lamps I spent way more than that on donuts for our employees (pictured here). On everything else we either broke even or sold at a loss and at the end of the day we still had 85% of the stuff we had at the beginning of the day.
As the most ironic financial consultant in the world I feel you should know that if you’re looking for a reliable investment strategy to provide peace of mind and security in your retirement . . . buying new stuff and selling it all every two years is not it.
That will be $200. We accept housewares and kitchen utensils.
2. Stuff generally demands more emotion than it is worth
Playing lifeboat with all of your possessions (especially when there is more than one of you) can be painful. Deciding which things make the suitcase and which things don’t is an organ wrenching exercise. Dollar values. Sentimental values. Can I get this there? Will I use this? Will I wear this? Will this fit? If I keep this what do I need to leave behind?
Everything is connected to story or a memory and there is only so much space to go around. There is much growling and showing of teeth.
Now plug that into a yard sale and watch the tension consume you. “NO – I will not take 50 cents for my drill bits! I love those drill bits!! Now GET OFF of my property!”
It’s a sensitive time.
3. It’s ok to let go of stuff
The sweetest moment of our yard sale came as we were cleaning up. My wife and I both shared a sense of sarcastic irritation — “Great. Now what?”
Another yard sale? Please no.
Sell it online? 12 emails to set up a time for someone to come give us two dollars for our spatulas? . . . uh . . . no thank you.
Give it all away? Argh. We can’t keep doing this.
Frustration mounted and we were both at a loss. Finally I made a suggestion. Let’s wrap our heads around giving $100 worth of stuff to the Thrift Store. That won’t kill us and we could thin out this pile of mess.
Moments later we realized that there were very few things that didn’t fit into our $100 category. We took it all to the garage and put it in two piles . . .
- Thrift Store stuff (most everything)
- Stuff worth selling online
We felt much better.
4. It’s ok to NOT let go of stuff
We still have a looming layer of things that didn’t go in the yard sale. Bigger items that we are still using, have invested more in and would definitely feel the pain of zero cost recovery. I am a terrible (albeit self-aware) businessman. I love to make a profit but I would prefer for you to just have it.
“Yeah we’d love to get $10,000 but . . . aw heck, just take it.”
I’ve had to wrestle with my own lack of materialism. The whole notion sounds ridiculous to the cut throat entrepreneur but I don’t think I’m alone in feeling (misplaced) guilt for putting price tags on stuff that I could give away.
Recovering what we have paid does not (necessarily) equal greed.
5. Stuff is not people
When I think about how I want to spend these last few weeks, running a flea market doesn’t even make the top ten.
People. That’s how I want to spend my time.
I want to make new memories with people that I’m going to miss. I want to take pictures with people I love at places I love. I want to sit around a fire and stay up late. I want to get up early for coffee and donuts. I want to have cookouts and eat stupid amounts of meat. I want awkward eye contact and healthy goodbyes. I want to go kayaking with my best bud. I want to eat family dinner on paper plates while sitting on a blanket in the middle of an empty living room floor and watching a movie on the iPad because . . . once again . . . we don’t own a TV.
I love my stuff . . . but I love my people more.
So these are my guidelines:
- I will get stuff out of my way so I can spend time with people.
- I won’t stress about losing money on my stuff.
- I won’t stress about making money on my stuff.
- When I can I will bless people with my stuff.
- When stuff creates an awkward situation I will call it awkward and move on.
- If my family owns stuff that gives them security or builds their confidence then I absolutely want them to keep it.
- I will not lose time with people for the sake of stuff.
That’s my plan . . . I’ll let you know how it goes.
For those of you whom transition is just a part of life — What’s your story? What’s your secret when it comes time to buy, sell, give, keep, pack, repack and unpack stuff?
Apr 21, 2015 |
Repatriating is weird.
It shouldn’t be but it is.
It should be awesome — and easy — and the complete redemption of every challenge, every irritation and every bumbling misadventure you have trudged through in your life as a foreigner. You are being unshackled from the chains of expat awkwardness and outsider fatigue.
Language barriers — gone. Cultural head scratching — no more. Mystery dishes — not on your plate. Awkward laughter to cover your embarrassment even though you have NO idea why you should be embarrassed (or laughing) — done with it.
You’re going back to normal. Your normal. Normal normal.
And there it is. The reason that repatriating is weird. Because it was supposed to be normal. Turns out . . . it’s not.
Your normal shifted while you were away. Theres a good chance (although the variables are different for every person) that your new normal IS communicating through a language barrier, scratching your head, eating the mystery dish (or finding a culturally acceptable reason not to) and awkward laughter.
Repats face a multi-layered challenge when they come “home”. One of those layers is tainted with the guilt of feeling like they should not be feeling like they are. There is a sense of isolation when we re-engage our communities.
Generally speaking, people don’t repatriate in herds. Maybe we should. Then we might know that we are actually quite normal.
For those without that luxury — here are some some things that DON’T make you weird.
1. Sensory Overload
Feeling overwhelmed by things that have never overwhelmed you before is not weird. This would make sense if you were only overwhelmed by bad things. You can brace for that impact, but it’s confusing to find yourself drowning in the things that you were most excited about coming back to.
Remember this — your senses (all of them) have grown accustomed to something different. You’ve adjusted the settings to respond to the realities of your foreign life. As an expat you have been hyper-tuned in, because if you’re not you’ll miss something important. In other ways you’ve completely checked out because you don’t understand and frankly you don’t need to.
It’s like when you’re watching TV and the sound is bad so you turn it up to 65.
Then you forget and change the channel. You just woke up the whole neighborhood.
It takes some time to readjust.
2. The Little Brother Syndrome
If you’ve got a little brother I don’t even need to explain this to you. They can annoy the pot out of you and, as the elder sibling, you reserve the right to pummel them. Wedgies, noogies, wet willies and forehead flicks are all perfectly acceptable means of retaliation (assuming parents are absent). HOWEVER — When Lester McNeederbottom down the street takes his lunch money . . . it’s on.
NOBODY messes with your kid brother but you.
Even if your expat experience was hard. Even if you slipped into a bad habit of whining and griping about every part of it. Even if you couldn’t wait to get home . . . you’ve connected.
So when somebody talks trash about your host country . . . it’s not weird to feel defensive.
3. Total Incompetence
I forgot how to use my bank card at the supermarket. I spent 10 minutes looking for the veggie “weigh station” before I remembered they don’t do that here. I couldn’t remember if U-turns were legal. I had no idea how to order at Chipotle.
This list goes on.
Trust me. Whatever is on your list. You are not alone.
4. Weird Withdrawals
Being the outsider has it’s challenges. As an expat you go through various stages of frustration with being the odd man out.
We got stared at. Pretty common for foreigners in China and to be fair . . . we’re kind of a walking freak storm. My wife and I are the garden variety, fair-skinned foreigners but our kids look NOTHING like us. Our daughter would blend in perfectly if she weren’t standing with us and our son (who has by far the darkest skin in the family and an awesome head of curly hair) doesn’t blend at all (with us or without us). We are totally worth staring at.
We grew pretty comfortable with the ogling but at times it was the most irritating part of our lives there.
So why in the world would I feel offended when people in my home country DON’T stare at my family?
I don’t know. But I did.
It’s pretty common to have withdrawals that make no sense at all.
5. Judgyness
When you see the place you have always called home through a different set of lenses you return to it with a different perspective.
“These people just don’t get it.”
“Everybody here thinks they’re the center of the universe.”
“If they could see what I’ve seen.”
“I used to think like that before I moved abroad.”
Faith, politics, education, business, office protocol, you name it. It’s all subject to a deeper scrutiny from those who have seen it from a different angle.
Here’s the catch. It is highly unlikely that you will notice yourself being more judgmental. You may, however, notice that everyone around you is wrong.
Side note — if everyone around you is wrong, you’re probably being more judgmental.
You are not the first.
6. Zero Self Discipline
It’s pretty exciting to come home to all of the guilty pleasures that you have missed so much. Consequently it’s not uncommon to find yourself substantially fatter and broker six months later.
It happens.
7. Missing your other language
Personally, I find this to be the most dysfunctional quirk in my own transition process. The only time I have ever had a deep yearning to really commit to learning a new language is when I have needed it the least. When I was in China I fluctuated between being a terrible student and a mediocre student.
Then I came home and found myself listening to Chinese podcasts and checking out new Chinese character memorization software.
Doesn’t make even a tiny bit of sense but I would bet that I’m not alone.
Anyone?
8. Feeling homesick at home
If “home” was clearly defined before you lived abroad you may be painfully confused on your return. Even if your host country is radically different from anything you ever experienced growing up, you may be shocked to discover you miss it like you’ve lived there forever.
The whole “home” conversation gets more complex if you grew up cross culturally but you knew that already. If that’s you, you’re well acquainted with being homesick even if you can’t identify where home is.
Whoever you are — there are many more like you.
9. Mourning
I tread lightly here. Clearly repatriation and death are not the same. That said, mourning is an absolutely legitimate part of this transition. It is healthy and natural.
The defining characteristic of grief is that it is a process. Mourning is not the same as venting. You don’t just get it out of your system one day and then “poof” it’s gone.
By acknowledging that this could be grief you’ll connect yourself to the many other repats who feel the same. Beyond that you might just get your eyes opened to people all around (even the “normal” ones) who are grieving many different flavors of loss.
They are all around.
10. Becoming self-centric
Repatriation is weird. We’ve covered that.
It’s a shock. It’s a process. It takes time and we feel alone while we are doing it.
We’ve had an adventure and we want to share it.
We’ve struggled and we want someone to feel bad for us.
We’ve been gone and we want to feel missed.
We’re behind and we want some help catching up.
We’ve changed and we want someone to notice.
We’ve got lots to say and we want someone . . . anyone . . . to listen.
And since we are the ONE in the crowd who has done something different, it’s easy to forget that we are not the only ONE — period.
The crowd matters.
“Home” changed too. They had an adventure while you were gone. Bad things happened. Good things happened. They missed you but they didn’t sit on the porch waiting for you to come home. They’ve changed. They’ve grown. They’ve got stories to tell and they might like you to show some interest as well. There’s even a strong chance they would love to hear about how much YOU missed THEM.
Don’t kick yourself.
If coming home has become all about you . . . you are definitely not alone.
What’s your story? Share it below and prove to the others that there are more like them out there.
Know a repat? Past, present or future? Pass this on. They may think they’re the only one.
Want to feel normal? Go here and read this legendary piece about repatriating by Naomi Hattaway: I am a Triangle
Want to meet more people like you? Go here and join the “I am a Triangle” Facebook Group which is FULL of people just like you. Told you that you’re not alone.
Apr 14, 2015 |
Introverts are finally getting a LOT of attention.
That’s pretty ironic.
So many writers are addressing the challenges that introverts face in a world built for extraverts. There is a trend . . . a wave . . . some would even call it a revolution of information that is calling our attention to the fact that we have designed our systems to reward the outgoing and overlook the quietly reserved.
The dilemma is this . . . even if this is a true, game changing revolution it will likely take years to have a deep and lasting impact on the broader expat world which is generally at least two steps removed (he says generously) from the mainstream . . . and if it is just a trend then it will likely run it’s course and fizzle before the expats really get to taste it.
More irony — I don’t believe I have seen a social dynamic more blasted by the disparity between the outies and the innies than the expat world . . . specifically expat teams.
Groups of people gathered for a common purpose, living in community and sharing in the paradox of life as foreigners can be painfully, unequally stacked against the introvert. Team building games, mandatory social events, round table decision making, professional development exercises — teams are built on obligatory social engagement from day one.
“Hey team . . . let’s do an ICE BREAKER. You’re gonna’ love this! Tie your shoelaces together, put two ping pong balls in your mouth, jump around the room and talk to EVERY SINGLE person until you find the three who have birthdays closest to yours. Then you have five minutes to prepare a mock synchronized swimming routine to “Love Shack” which you will perform in front of the WHOLE team who will then judge you according to originality, enthusiasm and your weight.”
“Ready? Go!”
Even More irony — The rest of this post is specifically for introverts but they just broke into hives and quit reading. We’ll get em’ next time.
I spend a lot of time with expat teams and this issue ALWAYS comes up. Here are some thoughts from those conversations and from years of marriage to the most beautiful introvert on the planet:
1. Introverts add HUGE value to a team
Through all of the challenges, frustrations and hives — you bring tremendous worth to the team dynamic. Someone needs to think before they speak. Someone needs to say nothing when there is genuinely nothing to say. Someone needs to NOT jockey for position, battle to be heard or chase rabbits around every single topic. You are a support to the extravert, to be sure, but if the team is healthy the extravert will recognize your value and also be a support to you.
2. Extraverts ALSO add HUGE value
Lest you get cocky. Someone also needs to speak up. Someone needs to say something . . . anything, even if it is stupid, so someone else can point out what a horrible idea it is and we can check it off the list. Someone needs to say, “ENOUGH – we’re chasing rabbits, let’s get back on task.” None of those people are likely to be you. The extraverts are NOT your enemies. In some ways they complete you (cue soft music) and you complete them. When you’re connected . . . really connected . . . your extravert friend will bring the meeting to a screeching halt because they can see that you have something to say. You need them as much as they need you.
3. Being an Introvert does NOT mean you are a snob
You do run that risk though. The scenario in your head that might go something like, “If I go, it’s going to suck the life out of me — but if I stay home, they’ll think I’m a snotty snot bag” . . . is probably not far from accurate. Just because people are extraverted does not mean they aren’t also insecure. Neither does it mean that they are psychic. Unfortunately people only know that you like them when you indicate, in some way, that you do. Extraverts have got the verbal affirmation edge here but if you’re going to consistently bow out socially you should consider finding a safe, introvert friendly alternative for saying, “I really do like you people.” Knowing that is not automatic.
4. Being an Introvert does not mean you are NOT a snob
Sometimes it’s easy for introverts to find fault in other people because it grants them permission to not engage socially. If you can rationalize that it is their fault then there is no reason to engage. If you find yourself doing that more often than not . . . you may just be a snotty snot bag. You should stop that.
5. Initiate the conversation
If you’re living silently you’re leaving everything you do open for interpretation. It’s easy, then, to judge the people who judge you. “If they want to know they should come ask me.” But being an introvert is NOT a disability. Have the discussion — with your close friends first, but spark the conversation among your team. What does it even mean that you are an introvert? What drains you? What energizes you? Point people to resources and engage. If you take the lead you can choose the playing field. If you ignore it, you’ll be playing on their field and you’ll start on defense. Guaranteed.
6. Make friends with an extravert
Some of the sweetest connections I have ever seen have been extreme innies and extreme outies. They’re perfect at parties together. The introvert can hide behind the extravert. EX works the crowd just like she likes it and one by one brings her new friends over to the corner and introduces them to IN (just like she likes it). IN doesn’t compete for attention and EX shields her from the crowds. IN becomes a sounding board for EX and EX protects IN from disengaging completely. It works. Not automatically and not without intentionality but it works and sometimes it works brilliantly well.
7. Adjust your plan
If the system is set up for extraverts you’re going to need to turn some knobs. Language learning for example seems to come more naturally for extraverts because they like to . . . well . . . talk to people. However, hanging out in a crowded vegetable market or bouncing up and down in your seat and shouting “OOH OOH PICK ME TEACHER, PICK ME!!” is not going to be your thing. So find something different that works in your world. Online study? Engaging one local friend and practicing over coffee at your place? You have options. Change your methods. Change your paradigms. Eventually you will change the team culture. “Viva la Innies!”
8. Be Proactively Digital
Introverts are finding their voice. It’s just not out loud. The world is rapidly becoming more and more introvert friendly. I have seen extreme innies who have a completely different personality on in the blogosphere or on social media. They are encouraging, engaging and would even seem to be outgoing — and then in person they might be timid and even borderline reclusive. Run with that. Be assured that the digital version of you is the real you. We’re just on a different playing field. This is your turf. Own it and use it to be a part of the team. Best part? You can engage and energize at the same time . . . you’re practically a cyber-extravert.
9. Withdraw to re-energize not to hide
The more you know yourself the more you will function well even if the surrounding system is built for extraverts. Being an introvert doesn’t mean you CAN’T engage people. It does mean that when you do, it drains you. Extraverts, on the other hand, actually get energy from it. When you learn to read your own gauge you can foresee when you are going to hit empty. While you might prefer to crawl into a hole and never come out it is rare that you will have that luxury on a team. Sometimes you NEED to engage.
Withdraw. Refuel. Re-engage. Repeat.
10. You are not alone
Trust me. You are not the only one who feels the pain of going to yet another team meeting. You are not the only one who fears that they will be called on publicly to come up to the front to be stared at. You are not the only one who goes home, crashes hard and vows to do bad things to anyone who dares break your silence. You’re not the only one who has watched 8 years worth of a sit com series in 2 weeks. You are everywhere. On every team. All over the world.
You are SO not alone which you probably find incredibly encouraging — even though — more than anything — you just want to be alone.
Oh the irony
Know an expat Introvert? Pass this on, they need to hear it.
Know an expat Extravert? So do they.
Got some advice for the Innies or the Outies? Please comment below.
Here are some resources and thoughts from other people around the interweb:
Susan Cain: The Power of Introverts
Susan’s TED Talk
6 Things You Should Never Say to Introverts: Madison Moore
5 Things Introverts Need to Stop Doing: Kirby Morris
The Introverted Expat: Rachel Pieh Jones
35 Quotes for Introverts: Christopher Hudspeth
An Introverted Expat: Life in Graz
Apr 10, 2015 |
People who live cross-culturally, for any significant portion of their lives, are often duped.
When we first choose to live as foreigners we are prime for the suckering. We are wide eyed and overflowing with enthusiasm. We soak up everything that Lonely Planet, Rosetta Stone and Wikipedia have to offer about our soon to be new home. In our zeal we are prone to misgauging our own proficiency.
We are pumped . . . and ready . . . and oh so naive.
Set for swindling.
There are seven great deceptions and most of us fall for at least five. I have personally tested them all. You know . . . for research. I lay them out now NOT for the sake of those who are packing up their lives and getting ready to go. That would be like telling newlyweds that marriage is hard.
They just tilt their head and grin at you as if you’re the cute one . . . “yeah, we know it’s hard for everyone else but we’re sooooo in love . . . and it will never, ever be hard for us. ”
You’re sweet and I would never steal this time from you. Proceed.
But for those of you coming down from the honeymoon (and possibly even some of you veterans) . . . here are seven deceptions which you may or may not have noticed just yet.
These are the Lies we believe
1. The “Dual Culture” Lie
It’s perfectly natural, when we relocate from one country to another country to focus entirely on those two cultures. Give me a spreadsheet with TWO columns and tell me how our cultures are different.
WE like personal space — THEY don’t.
WE are direct — THEY are indirect.
WE use a fork — THEY use their fingers
BOOM! I got this.
There are tests and inventories and boatloads of brilliant research that can help you size up YOURS and THEIRS. Culture to culture, side by side.
I love that stuff. I could get lost in it but the big reality shocker comes when you realize that living cross-culturally is not simply TWO cultures but it requires MULTIPLE layers of cultural adjustment. Here’s the kicker — often times the OTHER cultures are more consuming than the one of your host country.
- Expat culture — so different — You need another column on your spreadsheet.
- Professional culture — different again — Another column.
- International school — layers in itself — Multiple columns.
- Faith culture — another column.
- Generational gaps — more.
- Subcultures — more.
This list goes on.
It’s never just two
2. The “Language by Osmosis” Lie
Learning a new language is hard. Sure it’s easier for some people than others and no doubt there are gifted learners who seem to have flare for picking it up quickly. The rest of us are . . . what’s the English word?
NORMAL
Regardless, one of the most painful realizations is that new language doesn’t just grow organically in your brain because you are surrounded by it. Expats are survivalists first and foremost. We pick up the absolutely essential phrases, we seek out picture menus, we print taxi cards, we download apps and we are shameless masters of hand gestures and charades. Never has there been a group of people who have worked harder to communicate without learning how to.
In many places you can be (and you will not be alone) an expat for years upon years and never learn the language. Intentionally choosing the harder option is key.
It doesn’t just happen.
3. The “Culture Shock Immunity” Lie
“Culture shock” is a deceptive phrase. The word “shock” insinuates some kind of unforeseen, instant jolt. As if you stuck your fork into an outlet and BAZZZAAAPPP!
“WHOA! Should have used chopsticks! Didn’t see that coming.”
Consequently, when we don’t have the quick sizzle, hair raising, eye bulging zap followed by the easily distinguishable and obviously dysfunctional melt down we assume (incorrectly) that we have beat the system. No culture shock for me.
“I am Transition Man! Your culture bolts are no match for my defenses!”
But transition from one system to another system is not a switch that we flip it is a process that we go through. That process includes the stress of adjusting from the way you have always done it to the way it is now done.
It includes wrestling with knowing, without a doubt that your way is better . . . and then thinking that it probably is . . . and then wondering if it might be . . . and then acknowledging there may be two good ways . . . and then (sometimes) recognizing the new way is better.
For some people the process is harder, deeper, darker, more dysfunctional. Some people thrive on the instability.
It’s not the same (by any means) for everyone but no one gets immunity.
4. The “Cookie Cutter Culture Shock” Lie
Maybe you’ve seen something like this:
Tools like this are especially helpful when cultural transition feels like puberty. “Why am I feeling like this?! Why am I acting like this?! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!!”
In the complicated, confusing moments of adjustment, charts like this serve as a sweet reminder of a simple yet solid truth.
“I’m normal??. Waaahh, that’s fabulous. But seriously, get out of my room.”
The problem with the standard culture shock continuum is NOT that it is inaccurate. It is that we think it was designed to be more accurate than it is.
“I feel like my transition had more dips than that.”
“I think my dip wasn’t so deep but it lasted longer than 6 months.”
“I don’t think I ever got a honeymoon phase.”
Yes. Yes. Yes. You are spot on. Your transition is yours. It is dramatically different than the next guys and his is different than everyone else. If you are expecting to fit exactly into the right schedule for adjustment you’re likely to slip back into feeling weird or abnormal or dysfunctional or superhuman.
There are too many variables for everyone to have the same transition.
This was mine.
5. The “Single Answer” Lie
In human years expats move from 5 to 16 in about two months. Let me explain.
Expats are uber inquisitive on the front end. “What is that? How do you say this? What’s that smell? Why to do they do that? What’t the history behind this? Who? What? When? Where? How? Why? Why? Why?”
Like a 5 year old. We embrace ignorance on a quest for answers.
BUT (and this is where it ALL falls apart): We think when we get an answer we understand it (you should read that sentence again). Soon we “know” (finger quotes) everything.
Like a 16 year old.
When we have answers we stop asking questions. This can be a fatal flaw for expats. There is ALWAYS more to it.
“Ignorance is not your problem unless you think that you’re not ignorant.”
-Albert Einstein – should have said this
Embrace ignorance and stay 5 for a while.
For contrast imagine describing the climate of North America as frigid because you spent Christmas day in Northern Canada. Check out Guatemala in July before you share your expertise.
There is always more to it.
6. The “Expat Bubble” Lie
This one is doubly deceptive. It sneaks up on you and you never see it coming. There are no instant, clear cut signs but one day . . . months from now . . . maybe even years, you realize you’ve been duped.
No one is more excited than the honeymooning newbies to engage local culture. “We’re going to make lots of local friends and study language learn their customs and teach them ours. We’ll share cooking lessons and laugh about idioms. It’ll be great!”
Then . . . over time . . . and one interaction at a time you take the least challenging option. It’s frustrating to speak a language you don’t know. You don’t connect with these people on sports or politics or food or fun and it feels more like work than friendship.
That’s how the bubble is built.
For clarity let me just say . . . I love the bubble. Some of my best friends are in that bubble and I like hanging out there.
BUT I don’t want to be STUCK inside of it. To live cross culturally and never genuinely experience (deeply) your host culture is a BIG miss. To be surrounded by people who are SO different and could teach you SO much and never find a friend, is a sad thing.
The lie we believe is that it won’t happen to us. However without tremendous and ongoing intentionality it almost always does.
7. The “They love me because I’m a foreigner” Lie
This varies dramatically depending on who you are and where you are living. It is painfully easy to mistake cultural hospitality for respect and admiration. “These people treat me like a rock star.”
It’s easy to let that misguided reaction go to your head (much like a rock star would). The result is typically tragic. This is where cultures get abused and foreigners leave a trail of mess behind them. In their arrogance they assume that they have all of the pieces — “They smile when they see me, they laugh at my jokes, they want to spend time with me . . . they must love me.”
There is always more to it.
- It could be culturally mandated kindness
- It could be the art of war
- They could be buttering you up to steal your wallet
Or maybe they love you.
Point is, you can’t know until you stick around and build a real relationship. That’s where the good stuff is. The real stuff.
Lies are easy to come by when you live cross culturally.
If you’ve been duped, welcome to the club. Actually you’ve been here for a while but none of us wanted to say anything. Welcome back from your honeymoon.
This is where it gets good.
Helpful? Have some friends who might need to hear this? Please pass it on.
Have you fallen for one of these or something completely different? Please comment below.
Apr 6, 2015 |
It’s coming again . . . the massive, painful, Expatriate Exodus
As I write this there are thousands of expats scattered across the planet who are packing up their lives and making plans for whatever comes next. It happens every year and the high season for leavers is upon us.
click here to see why expats hate June
I myself repatriated just two years ago and am now preparing to return to my life as an expat. So whether I am re-expatting or becoming an ex-repat one truth is painfully clear.
I am leaving . . . again.
Here are some questions that I have found to be helpful by watching people leave well.
Question 1: Are you Crazy?
This is not so much a “yes” or “no” question. I’m just establishing a baseline.
Maybe a better question would be “how crazy are you and is that enough?”
What you are about to go through is quite frankly . . . crazy. Not the “mentally deranged” type of crazy. That’s a separate issue. This is more of a “you’re just not like the normal people” kind of crazy. Normal people pack their bags and take a trip. They ask the neighbor to watch the cat. They say goodbye, go away . . . and then come back. That is normal.
What you are doing is not normal. You’re packing it ALL up . . . or selling it . . . or giving it away . . . including the cat. You’ll say goodbye and you’ll go away but that is where you part ways from the normal people. Literally and figuratively.
It’s good to wrap your head around the fact that the next few months of your lives is not going to be normal. Even for you. It’s also good to know that this is a season. There is a beginning and an end. Normal will return but for now and for a little while it’s gonna’ be crazy.
It will help if you are too — at least a little.
Question 2: Are you Leaving Well or Leaving Happy?
There is a monstrous difference between leaving well and leaving happy. Leaving happy can range from, “I’m just happy to be leaving” to “It’ll be just like I never left.” Regardless, you’re missing something if your primary focus is how you feel when you get on the plane.
How about a sports metaphor? Tickling a runner with a broken leg so hard they nearly wet themselves doesn’t get them ready for the next race.
Leaving happy may mean setting yourself up for a fall in the near future.
Here are some of the differences between leaving well and leaving happy:
- Leaving happy remembers the good times and ignores the bad.
- Leaving well celebrates the good and learns from the bad. It mourns and adjusts.
- Leaving happy anticipates an unrealistic future — “It will be better when . . . “
- Leaving well prepares for the inevitable high’s and low’s to come.
- Leaving happy candy coats reality.
- Leaving well addresses the bitter and the sweet.
- Leaving happy leaves relationships . . . nice.
- Leaving well let’s them go deep.
For more about Leaving Well read these posts from last year’s Expat Exodus series
Question 3: Have you considered that going home might be harder than leaving?
Sorry — don’t kill the messenger.
This is something that I’ve heard over and over. Going “home” was more difficult than becoming a foreigner.
We could go a thousand different directions here but I think the roots of the issue can be found in the mammoth gap between your expectations and reality.
- You think you are going “home” but your “home concept” is outdated. Home changed while you were out. So did you.
- You think it will be easy to get around now that you speak the language but “the language” is going to overwhelm you.
- You expected to be an incompetent, bumbling idiot when you moved abroad but you’ve got no clue that you’re about to feel that way again.
- You’ve got great stories and can’t wait to tell all your friends. Bless your heart. Not all of them want to hear your stories.
- You’re excited about your favorite cereal but the cereal aisle is about to destroy you.
Question 4: Do you know that you’re NOT weird?
Crazy? Yes. Weird? No.
I get to spend quality time with dozens of exiting expats every spring. It is remarkable to me how many of them share the exact same anxieties. What is even more remarkable is that most of them feel isolated in that anxiety. Whatever they’re feeling, they’re pretty certain they are the only ones feeling it.
You may not be normal but it’s almost guaranteed that you’re a normal repat.
You might be a normal repat . . .
- If you are leaving in two months and still have no clue where you’re going to work . . . or live.
- If you’ve been fighting with your spouse . . . your kids . . . your friends . . . your co-workers more than usual.
- If walking by the vegetable market makes you cry.
- If group hugs with your weeping bff’s don’t make you cry at all even when you try your hardest.
- If you’re finding yourself more frustrated with your host culture than you have been in a long time.
- If you’re having vivid . . . or scary . . . or senseless . . . or stressful dreams.
- If you’re having deja vu a lot.
- If you’re having deja vu a lot.
- If you feel like expat life has changed you . . . and you’re afraid going home will “change you back”.
- If the thought of politics, or pop culture, or school, or church or the nightly news at home makes you vomit a little bit in your mouth.
- If you are afraid.
- If you are excited.
- If you are something that is not on this list. Anything.
Trust me. You are not alone.
Question 5: Do you have a plan?
Trust me again. Trying to round out this important chapter of your life without a plan is a sure way to pile unnecessary stress on top of an already stressful process and miss some golden opportunities for doing this well.
It is basic supply and demand and your time is at a premium. You can budget it like a wise investor or you can take your chances . . . like a drunken gambler.
A well thought out plan ensures that your best friends get your best time and your ok friends get your ok time. It also protects you from well meaning time suckers and circumstances which are neither good nor ok.
Even if you’re not a planner. You’ll do better with a plan.
Question 6: Does your plan include a buffer?
“The best laid plans of Mice and Men oft go awry
And leave us naught but grief and pain for promised joy!”
-Robert Burns — To A Mouse
Frankly I think old Robert was off by an “oft”. Your best plan will ALWAYS go awry. Something will come up. Someone will cancel. It will rain or snow or your taxi will get lost or you will develop a fluke allergic reaction to shoes. Something will not go as planned. Guaranteed.
So what is the plan then? The plan is to stick to the plan 100% . . . and then be flexible when the plan doesn’t work out like you planned it. Leave yourself some wiggle room if at all possible.
- Do the hard stuff first.
- Protect your last two weeks.
- If possible consider leaving later rather than sooner (even a few days makes a big difference)
- You’ll be packing until you leave your house or apartment — Consider some time in a hotel or with friends before you leave.
Question 7: If you were on a plane right now what would you be wishing you would have done better?
Stepping through the security gate at the airport is a bit of a surreal moment. It serves as a sort of portal into the next chapter. Once you step through and lose eye contact with your entourage it all turns real. That’s it. Chapter over. Page turned.
It’s a weird mix of lonely and liberating but it marks the end of the last chances.
Sure, you’ve got Skype and email and tons of frequent flyer miles so it’s not all doom and gloom but it is definitely and entirely different.
Now (pre-leaving) is your best time for awkward eye contact and goofy “you’ve changed my life” speeches. Hug emojis are not actual hugs. Skype is not the same as your favorite coffee shop. Facebook can’t compare to a best friend photo shoot.
There is no time to do everything you want to do . . . but there is time to do some of it.
Why are you even still reading this? Go.
Question 8: What are you taking with you?
Wrestling with the literal version of this question can be painful. Are you shipping your things or downsizing to the maximum suitcase allowance? What are you NOT taking and how are you getting rid of it? Who wants your toaster and more importantly who do you want to have it?
Great time to take inventory.
The figurative version of this question though is where it gets rich. How are you different from the person you were when you started this adventure? What has changed inside of you?
- What do you value that you never valued before?
- How have your core beliefs been challenged and stretched and strengthened?
- What memories will make you grin until you are old and wrinkly?
- How have you been transformed by this whole, crazy experience?
Consciously thinking about these things is a part of moving forward with a strong foundation.
Side question: What are you leaving behind? Try that one literally and figuratively too.
Question 9: Do people REALLY know how you feel about them?
Let me answer that one for you.
Unless you have told them . . . specifically . . . in very clear and simple terms . . . then NO — people do NOT know how you feel about them.
Why? Because people are dense.
People generally know the headlines but they don’t just assume the details. They may know that you appreciate them but they don’t know why. They don’t know what it is about them that made you start respecting them. They don’t know the impact (specifically) that they have had on you. They don’t know how you are a different person for knowing them and they don’t know how you can only hope and dream to impact other people the way they have you.
Because they’re dense.
But it’s ok. You’re dense too.
Assume nothing. Leave them knowing.
Question 10: Are you being selfish?
It is a stressful time. I get it. Trust me. I get it.
You need to sell your stuff and pack your bags and make your plan, look people in the eyeballs and say good healthy goodbyes. You need to be thinking forward and backward and right now all at the same time and you can’t afford to miss a single moment. You’re overwhelmed with details and people won’t stop asking you for your blender.
You’re leaving and life is tough for a leaver.
But look around. Those people around you . . . are being left. Again.
Leavers are not the only ones impacted by the Expat Exodus. You know what it feels like. Chances are, if you’re a leaver then you’ve also been left before. Some of you have been left year after year for a long, long time. You’ve learned the hard way that it doesn’t get easier.
If you’re a Leaver — Why not share some grace with the Stayers . . . it’s the secret sauce to leaving well:
- Give them grace when they ask for your blender . . . again.
- Grace it up when they cancel dinner . . . again.
- Show some grace when they disconnect early and act detached, or irritated, or downright angry.
- Grace when they don’t come to your stuff sale.
- Grace when they try to haggle at your stuff sale.
- Grace when they want to spend every waking moment with you.
- Grace when they insist on awkward eye contact.
- Grace when they refuse to look you in the eye.
- Grace on those who want you to leave happy when you’re trying to leave well.
- Grace through the tears and the laughter and the sarcasm and the denial.
- Grace all over everything.
You’re leaving. Wait. Scratch that. WE are leaving. This is a big part of our story. It’s ok for that to be about us . . .
But it’s not ALL about us.
And P.S. — If you just realized that you have been selfish . . . give yourself a little grace too.
Are you leaving? Why not take some intentional time to wrestle through these 10 questions?
Getting left or know others impacted by the Expat Exodus? Please pass this on.
Got a thought, or a story, or another question to ponder? Post it below.
