I recently read an article about reverse culture shock and how it can take some people 6 months before they feel right again. I think I’m somewhere in between.
My stomach isn’t in knots anymore and I feel like I’m back in my own body. But I still don’t feel right. If anything, a stuckness is what I feel. I get up super early, get dressed, make coffee, doze on the train, and once I’m in the office, I find myself counting down the hours until I can leave the office again.
And there’s nothing wrong really. No one thing in particular, but rather, every little thing. Yesterday I felt really restless, like I just wanted to be anywhere else but here. Melbourne feels like an addiction, a habit I should probably break because the pining isn’t doing anything for me. But I can’t let it go, obviously. If I could, I probably would have felt right some months ago.
Instead I’ve just gotten used to things, used to the 1.5 hour commute, used to not really socialising with work colleagues, used to checking my online visa account every few days, used to refreshing my email page just in case some magical opportunity is waiting to drop into it. And I’m used to reading the news about Brexit and feeling panicked, whilst looking at what’s happening in Australia and the right wingers trying to gain power, following suit after Britain and America.
It’s all a bit despairing really, and I do wonder if anywhere in the world is a safe place to go and build a life anymore. Because it’s what I want, to build a life. Currently I’m living like everything is on hold, and that’s not a state I want to get used to.
Image credit: routine by Luis Herrera from the Noun Project