It Takes a Year

Let me preface this post by saying that my intention here is not to solicit sympathy. Given that this is now our second international move, we know that these things are true for nearly everyone who makes a big move to another culture, and it’s not just because we are weirdos (although we openly admit to being less than normal). My only intention is to encourage those who are moving internationally for the first time, who aren’t sure what to expect or who have found the transition to be harder than they imagined. You, my friend, are not alone.

I read an incredible book this year discussing third culture kids and the difficulties of living outside the culture in which your parents grew up. For many kids, this means they are living outside of the country in which they were born, but for others, it means growing up in a situation where one of your parents grew up in another country, so your family traditions, language, and perspectives are different than most other people in your community. There was a lot of great advice in this book (and I would HIGHLY recommend it to fellow parents of TCKs), but I was struck the most by a chapter which dealt with physically moving to a new place. The chapter covered all the expected topics: figuring out where all the necessary stores are, meeting new friends, starting a new job or school, adjusting to new driving circumstances, likely learning a new language or at least a new set of vocabulary. I was nodding my head the whole chapter, remembering how each of those things were very true for us in Thailand and have stayed true in England. Then the author started discussing how long it should take for this to happen, and I expected her to say a few months, tops. However, she started discussing why it would likely take closer to six months or a year to fully feel settled in a new place.

This wasn’t a huge surprise to me as this was our experience in Thailand. It was our first time to move abroad, we didn’t know any of the local language, and we spent the first several months basically flying by the seat of our pants. Thankfully, we were surrounded by amazing coworkers and a large expat community who helped us tremendously. We truly wouldn’t have made it without the wisdom and guidance given to us by so many. Still, we didn’t feel at home in Thailand for a long time. Other expat friends there also expressed their frustration with making deep connections in such a transient setting. We all chalked it up to having young children and/or working in intense fields, both leading to very little free time and even less excess energy for socializing.

Eventually, we felt like our house in Thailand was home. We could hold conversations with our neighbors in Thai, we knew how to drive to lots of local places without using Google Maps, we had our favorite restaurants and beloved dishes at each one. Our kids were into a routine with school both at home and at co-op, we had good friends at work and at church, we found our rhythm of communicating with friends and family in the US regularly but not excessively.

Then we moved. We anticipated this move being much easier, given that we spoke the local language, didn’t look so “foreign”, and that the culture was so much closer to that of the US. Man, were we wrong. It turns out that as soon as we opened our mouths, everyone knew we weren’t locals. Despite speaking the same language, we only understood about 75% of what was being said to us (on a good day). On top of that, we knew NO ONE. There was no one to tell us the British names of everyday products or where to buy them. No one to help us get the kids registered for school and advise us on what things they would need to be ready for the year. No one to answer our questions about all the weird things that British people do (I’m still not fully confident as to when I should say “Cheers!”).

So here I am, reading this book, several months into our second international move and feeling like things are going so slowly. Then the author, who has done the most research on TCKs and practically coined the term, is telling me that everyone who moves internationally has these feelings. It was so freeing! I instantly felt much better about not having most things figured out, knowing that it would just take time. My new mantra became “It takes a year.”

Now, just because I had this head knowledge doesn’t mean that I instantly took it to heart. I found myself repeating this mantra over and over again:

...when I showed up to a big event, only to realize that I don’t know anyone there and I will probably sit awkwardly by myself most of the time.

...when I looked up the celsius equivalent for the thousandth time.

...when we found out about a really fun activity and wished that we had playmates to share it with.

...when I had to covertly look up a word, or three, to understand a conversation.

...when birthdays rolled around and our invite lists were really, really short.

...when I pulled up Google Maps, AGAIN, just to get to the grocery store.

...when two fellow moms were making plans for a lunch together and I really, really wanted to be invited.

But this story has a happy ending. We are coming up on 11 months of living in England, and I am proud to report that we can drive several places without the aid of GPS; I’ve actually given directions to British people looking for local sights. We’ve had two occasions where we had to say no to a social engagement because we had another one to attend. Our vocabularies have greatly increased and it’s rare that we have to ask what a word means. We know lots of our neighbors and our kids have been invited to several playdates and birthday parties.

This will happen for you, too. It might take six months, a year, or even two years. If it’s taking longer than you want it to, just remember, it’s not you that’s the problem. It just takes a year.