After several months abroad immersing yourself in a new culture and experiencing the world from an entirely new viewpoint, you begin to wonder if anything new can surprise you. I know personally, I had some wild adventures and had adopted this lifestyle of going with the flow, rolling with the punches. Whether it was learning the nuances of Spanish grammar in conversation or the etiquette of a new country on the fly, you learn to always embrace “new” with openness. But then your trip is coming to a close. You might not be ready to leave, but there is an excitement and readiness to go home. It’s a weird conflict that rages on inside of you but the weeks, days, and then hours run out until you’re struggling with your suitcases and passport at the airport on your voyage home. And all that openness you learned over your life changing experience seems to go out the window.

I was used to being surprised by the customs and way of life in different countries, but I was not ready for the surreal shock of being surprised by my home.

Sure, we’d been given a handout or two about Reverse Culture Shock, but I hadn’t really paid it much mind. It didn’t seem true that returning home would be harder than arriving in the new country, and I certainly didn’t think I’d have serious issues readjusting back to U.S. life. I knew U.S. culture, I grew up in it. And I could see the differences between the two cultures and lifestyles I had come to call both my own. There are pros and cons to each, but I could recognize them as separate, as their own. I knew what to expect, because home is home right?

I should have listened to the handout that had said I’d feel out of place, restless and isolated. I didn’t believe that I’d actually feel like no one understood me, or that I’d be in a room full of my best friends and yet be able to watch the scene unfold like I was removed from it. I didn’t think I’d constantly be looking to spend time by myself, or be suffocating from boredness. I find myself sitting in silence with my roommate (who is also trying to readjust to non-study-abroad life) only for one of us to look over at each other and mumble, “This sucks.”

Neither of us has to explain what “this” is.

The waves of anger, sadness, fear, and uncertainty come and go and when they’re gone, I get these moments where everything is just like how it used to be. It’s as if I’ve stepped back in time and nothing’s changed, until someone says something. Maybe it’s a reference to a moment I missed, the name of a new friend (or foe) I don’t know, or just a habit or quirk that wasn’t there 8 months ago. It’s jolting and you’re pulled from that state of everything’s the same, and the fact that you’ve missed a large chunk of time is just thrown back in your face.

Even while having a partner to go through this reverse culture shock with, I can’t help but worry if maybe I’m not adjusting as well. Maybe it doesn’t feel that different for her. Maybe I’ve changed too much, or too little, and no longer fit in where I used to fit perfectly. And it’s utterly terrifying.

I’ve tried to keep it to myself as if not talking about it will make the ‘merpy’ out of place feelings evaporate into thin air, and it’s failing as I have more and more moments of ‘I don’t belong here anymore’ reverberate through my mind.

After a whopping four weeks (three of break, one of school), a majority of the students from my program and I got together and hung out for a night. The nerves of hanging out with more people I hadn’t seen in awhile almost convinced me not to go, but once I arrived, I felt at home again. All of us expats laughed and danced and talked with an ease I hadn’t noticed before. And as we all caught up individually, we came to a consensus that “yeah, this sucks, but what next?” We talked about the difficulties with adjusting to campus life and all the ups and downs that come with it. Even for a night, it felt so invigorating to be surrounded with people I called family and felt comfortable with as my ‘new’ self. I didn’t have to watch what I said, didn’t have censor myself so that I wasn’t droning on about my Spanish adventures to people who (understandably) aren’t that interested. This family was with me on most of these adventures and they knew the ‘me’ that had traversed through Europe and that had changed along the way. We all grew together, we all changed together, and we were there for each other through all the crazy twists and turns. And like then, now they also raised me and and reminded me how to tackle the next crazy, unexpected adventure. Now it wasn’t navigating public transpo in a foreign language, or trying to board an international flight with a handwritten boarding pass, or running up the side of a mountain trying to get to an excursion in time, but it was just as important.

It became apparent that the attitude we used in Spain to adapt to new culture and a new life was the same one we needed to use at home. Because things have changed, and things aren’t like they used to be. I’ve changed abroad, and my friends have changed and grown here. But that doesn’t mean all is lost. Some inside jokes are still the same, and I can still text my best friend when I’m feeling down and need a pick-me-up, and I can still explore the new subtleties of my home with an openness and roll with flow, go with the punches, or whatever, that I had abroad.

So, yeah. Things are different, but different isn’t necessarily bad. I’m immersing myself in a new world again. This time I’m just closer to home.