I may have touched on this before, but the juxtaposition between these two utterly defining emotions is too important not to describe. I often wonder to what extent others in my position feel the same thing; I’m sure they must, at least in part.
Let me see if I can quantify, in broad strokes, the range and frequency of emotions that an expat may experience.
33% of the time is ecstasy. Ecstasy is defined by a simple thought, a phrase that flashes through the minds of many of the expats I’ve met here: Oh my God, I live in Korea. It looks ridiculous to me even now; trust me, it is often followed by, (especially after one has been here for some time) “Oh come on.” It’s the knowledge that something new is very close by, or maybe even happening right now. This becomes less frequent as time passes, but even after 9 months, I still feel it. Just the other day, I was walking to my favorite watering hole, and glanced up at the almost comical profusion of neon lining the urban canyon walls around me, and I had that same thought… Followed closely by the second.
66% is some kind of average between being content, and being apathetic. This occurs just after the so-called “honeymoon phase” has passed, and the expat becomes adjusted and/or comfortable in their new life. It can be anything between gray as ash and hazily colorful.
33% is the choking depression that follows certain realizations or experiences. I’m thinking mainly of the realizations that one makes in my position: Perhaps you’ve sacrificed a relationship, given up on a career, or you’re simply homesick. Regardless of the reason, you feel, hear, think, taste something that brings that sacrifice back into full sensory focus, shattering the ecstasy or apathy. The effect is akin to a punch to the junk, or more appropriately, a slap to the face. Actually, I think I prefer the ice water metaphor – Once, I jumped into the Snake River in Washington in March. I was hit by the freight train that is the cold of a winter river, completely losing my breath and ability to think. That’s exactly what happens when you hit this 33% zone.
Part of the appeal of leaving one’s country, and abandoning some extremely tough things to abandon is the journey through the process of figuring out how to deal with it. Trying not to go to excess in those periods of ecstasy, illuminating the hazy apathy, and regaining one’s breath when the realization that you’ve lost things you love strikes.
