Working through Culture Shock

About five months after returning to the U.S. from seven years overseas, I found myself overwhelmed with trying to express my "re-entry" reflections. Part of the problem was that it took us that long to find a home. So we were still figuring out how we were going to live as a family in the United States. I think I was rather naive. I expected culture shock to last a few months. I knew we would miss our home and life overseas and would need to get adjusted to a new one . . . but, afterall, the U.S. was my native land and culture. Despite what the books told us, I still reasoned we could adapt quickly and jump back in where we left off. It took me almost a year to realize that re-entry occurs in layers, from simple adaptations like food and language to more complex ones like politics, religion, family living, etc., and even deeper ones like family relationships, values/culture issues, friendships, etc.

I wrote the following poem at the five month mark when I was feeling a very strong pull between my life, friends and home overseas and my new ones in the U.S. I realized that my interpretation of things I heard people say, things I observed, or things I had to make decisions on were strongly tainted by my emotions and experience in a different culture. This poem is an attempt to describe my frame of mind at that point.

Blending of Waters

Two streams converged in a distant wood,
And I found myself pushed along
In a current of confusion and starry-eyed wonder,
Two realities within me came crashing together

Two lives, two journeys, suddenly became one
Flowing through a land which seemed
Comforting, yet alien . . . its features familiar,
But unlike I had ever experienced before.

The volume of activity, the conflicting of thoughts,
The juxtaposition of cultures,
It made my mind spin and my body weak;
I couldn’t think clearly or coherently speak.

I feared I might drown in my confused emotions
Which, ironically, held me afloat.
How I longed for my past, my journey of old,
When I bore only half of what I’ve just told.

It is true that before, then did I carry
Two hearts, yet I chose but one life
Then the streams flowed apart, my hearts not together
Only the memories of one mingled in with the other

Now the roar of the water was deafening as it
Tossed me along with such force,
I fought to focus, to hear all around
I mourned the loss of clear sight and full sound.

The truth we must face is that streams keep flowing;
The journey can never repeat.
Though I struggle now, deep down I fear
That soon the stream will again veer

Then back to one life, that is divided in heart,
I am comforted only by this:
Streams that diverge are changed forever
Enriched by the presence of water from the other.