Do you ever find yourself too close to a situation, so close that you come to realize the only way to gain perspective is to walk away entirely for a little while? Yeah, if you catch my drift at all, that’s exactly where I was the summer of 2016.
I feel like every graduate can relate. At the end of your undergraduate, associate, graduate, doctorate, whatever degree or diploma you obtain, you just want one thing: a big, fat, fantastic break. For some, it’s a break from the city they lived in for however many years. For others, it’s a break from homework and tests every week. For me, it was a break from everything. I wanted to leave the country. No, I needed to leave the country.
Fresh out of college graduation, I took the first job I could find: a greenhouse assistant. It wasn’t the most glamorous job, but to me, it was the fast track to my most immediate goal: moving to Taiwan. Working at the greenhouse meant time outside, which meant exhaustion, which meant little to no fun money spent due to that exhaustion due to that budding farmer’s tan and potential dehydration. It was a perfect concoction. As a confirmed and proud workaholic, I was overjoyed at my planning.
Once I had achieved my goal of getting to Taiwan, it kind of felt like I was flying. It wasn’t just a side product of the day’s journey it took to get there either. If you’ve ever done something you’ve really truly wanted to do and succeeded, you’ll know the feeling I’m talking about. It’s an endless stream of smiles, laughter, and wonder for what you’ve created for yourself. In the fall of 2016 as I stood in front of students, scared out of my mind to be speaking in front of children, I was unimaginably happy. I had achieved my dream life and I felt unstoppable. For that chapter of my life.
That’s something I have come to realize over the last two years and since coming home. Just like I have changed from the shy, soft spoken person I was in high school, our dreams change over time, too. We’ll always have that one little childhood dream of ours tucked away under a stray pillow for safe keeping, but the dreams and goals we have for ourselves adjust according to who we are and where we are on our journeys.
In 2016, my goal was Taiwan. Check. Done. Now, halfway through 2018, my goal is America. And it took me coming home to realize why. And truthfully, this epiphany could not have come at a more opportune time.
It came from none other than a conversation with my youngest sister, Annie. A.K.A. my twin, in nearly every way except for eye color, height, age, and body build. She and I zoomed up to Dunkin’ Donuts, like any other day in the quiet suburb we live in. She told me her order and we were waiting in line, just chatting. I said something about how I felt like I needed to go to Taiwan for a reason before I was ready to come home. And then, Annie said something brilliant:
“Maybe it was supposed to humble you.”
When I left, I had lived in America for 22 years, and never lived abroad. I wanted to see what else was out there. I needed to see for myself. So I did what most young adults probably wouldn’t do: I left for Taiwan and set out on a plan to become an expat and just forever live my life on foreign soil, sipping on foreign liquors, and looking at faraway castles. It seemed like the ultimate dream. Until last year.
Somewhere along the line, my wanderlust driven dreams started to falter off course. Traveling is expensive, but most importantly, I began to realize I wasn’t a nomad. I was a settler. I love traveling and learning about other cultures and people. But I also love home. When I saw the familiar skyscrapers of Chicago as we descended that night three weeks ago, my heart sang to the same chord my sister let roll off her tongue.
Sometimes it takes time in a faraway place to realize where your true home is, where your soul really belongs.
Annie is right. I did need to go to Taiwan to humble myself. I needed to see that despite how much I wanted to avoid life in America, it’s my home. I was born here, raised here, and no matter how far I stray in this world, it’ll always be home. Nothing will ever change that, no matter what.
Being able to see the family and friends that I did has confirmed what I was already feeling the last few months. Taiwan was a beautiful dream to twenty-two year old me, but even mirage-like dreams need to rest once they’ve been achieved. Their chapters have to close, too, and we must step forward into the next chapter with just as much faith and courage as we entered the last. And I believe I’m ready. I’m ready for whatever the next chapter holds.
