Reverse Culture Shock
The side effects of coming home…
In a daze of late checkout times and spontaneous trips across Florida, I arrived home with a pit in my stomach. Not one of fear or anxiety, nothing I would have to confront or accept - there was not one environmental factor to contribute to this existential dread I felt when I stepped through the threshold. Though surrounded by all my comforts, there was this itch within the very core of my being, one that could not be extinguished by my usual remedies.
My mental anguish and an undying need to do something led me to Reels for a dose of escapism - the algorithm had other plans for me. Like divine intervention (or really creepy software), the words “Why does no one talk about reverse culture shock?” popped up on my screen. Instagram really said “here fishy fishy”. So, I took the bait, read the caption, and had that weightlifting realization you get when your period shows up and you understand why that door handle made you cry.
Just as you are introduced to new places and experiences with fresh eyes, coming home after an uninterrupted period of constant movement and excitement can dilute the warm fuzzy feeling you would expect to have in your own bed after being away. I was so disappointed in myself, feeling ungrateful for the marvelous charms of my unique life in South Tampa. It was so difficult to put my finger on the issue I was having, things just didn’t feel quite right or even real the first few days back at the townhouse. My body was almost going through the motions and habits of life at home while my mind struggled to accept the duality of my personality and how it influences my life experiences: the adventurous extrovert who is only in the hotel room for sleep and the curious introvert who prefers the familiarity of daily rituals.
I was forcing myself to choose between “vacation me” and “at-home me”, convinced that both could not exist at the same time.
I’m not the only one!
Well, obviously. I mean there is a ridiculous amount of people on this planet but it is incredibly validating to be able to define the indescribable feeling you’ve been having.
I realized that it was not a “return to reality” but an acceptance that “this is my reality”. There is no handbook that tells you how to best live your life, some speak of traditions but those are created to be broken in my opinion. My longing for adventure was an internal cue that I needed to quit deferring enjoyment to the next paycheck, the next free weekend, and simply accept the life I have chosen. A real life that I was free to mold to my liking, one that will never look the same as another.
As I sat in my bed, husband by my side, our room felt anew with fresh possibilities. Almost as if our space was transformed into a budding beacon of thoughts, desires, passionate expressions, and questions like…
