Homesick Warrior

wordly, usa, ukraine, expat, expat life, expat woman, alisa kaiser, writter
Committing to an expat life equals to cutting your umbilical cord, the cord that connects you to your country and your nation. It is a simple act that sometimes you don't event think twice about - up until a serious disease hits you. The name of that parasite is homesickness.

The word 'homesickness' sounds somewhat funny to me - I mean come on, missing home? What are you - eight and at a friend's sleepover? Judge me all you want but I don't like it. So I suggest we change the term 'homesickness' to something more melodic and deep. Like blues. I now pronounce homesickness - blues.

The blues is like a foxtrot (where am I going with all these references?) - quick quick slow, quick quick slow (I had a lot of dancer friends growing up). It covers you up like a wave or a cold shower and then lets go and yet is still creeping in the background of all your action. I got hit with the blues hard this past week. Why? I don't know. I was stressed, I was sick, my husband was out of town - pick the one you like. But for a few days in a row I kept thinking about home and (I am aware of the fact that I am not three) I missed my family. Mom, quit crying, the post has just started.

Here is how it feels to be an expat (to me): I was living my great life - I decided to leave - my umbilical cord was cut - I had to insert myself in the new environment - I had to blend in with the locals. All these motions PLUS a sneaky/creepy blues constantly at your feet. That is a lot to take in, don't you think?

Living in another country for me is like getting an ice-creaming on a hot beautiful day with the pretties boy in class - absolutely amazing and I would not have changed it for the world. But every expat that you meet has left so much behind: families, friends, old memories, good jobs, unwalked streets of the cities one has never been to... I look back at the road that I am walking on and I think to myself 'Who is this warrior? Where did this warrior finds courage, desire, and strength to go on?' I fiddle in my pockets, take out a mirror and look at the reflection. A girl with hazel eyes looks back at me and gives me a sad lopsided smile. Hi me. Are you taking good care of yourself?

I know that a life of an expat is the life chosen. The experience is so unique and so purifying  - you can't really complain, can you? Sometimes we pick the battles we are not ready for yet we fight to the best of our abilities. We have it good - let's just be grateful.

This post feels Thanksgivin-y - don't you think? FRESH FLOWERS! There, now it is a spring post.

Oh! And my best friend is a delivery nurse hence the references. I 'feed' from my real life. Just sayin'.

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