I woke up feeling fortunate it’s only Sunday, with anticipation about how I will be spending the day with my kids. As I scrolled my phone, a dozen of updates flooded my social media. Updates from family, relatives, and friends, all about the tropical joy in Asia. The life that I left behind five years ago seems to becoming distanced. At a glance, I feel like I missed it and ‘what if’ came to play. The life that I left behind, the one that raised me, do I really want it or can I even go back?
Five years ago, my spouse and I ambitiously decided to move out of Southeast Asia. We shortlisted Shanghai and London as destinations where we could see ourselves grow professionally and start a new life. I requested for a role transfer opportunity within the same week.
Whether by network, calibre, or chance, I was lucky enough to be offered an interview opportunity right after. The next thing was, we were on our way to London in early 2020. Not foreign to my spouse but surely for me, it was a blank canvas with no expectation. I was not ready to give up Southeast Asia life but the West is a whole new spectrum that I must see. Four seasons in a year, why not? I knew, home will always be there.
I came a long way to experience a new culture and way of life. I received celebratory notes from colleagues, but I wasn’t sure if my parents were proud of me for taking the leap without asking. In professional arena, there was no space for intimidation, fear, or taking anything for granted. Settling into a new country, new job, new life and leaving everything behind were high stake gambles. There was certainly no room for laid-back attitude as a stranger. An outstanding breakthrough has always been on my card. Yet on personal level, I struggled in my first two years mainly in weathering through my first motherhood experience alongside a full time career.
Homesick, despite my loving spouse supported me twenty four seven, I felt lonely, clueless, anxious, and constantly doubtful if there would be any difference if I had stayed in Asia. I was stuck in a vicious cycle of depression where I couldn’t get my mind out of negative and self-critical thoughts. The notions that my depression is an outcome of moving away, guilts, regrets, and I am responsible for whatever happens after.
On one hand, portraying my miserable self to my family back home feels like a total disaster. ‘I told you so‘ is an easy saying but that would have crushed me for good. Encouragement was probably the least expected. Or did I just made them up? Or was it just a matter of face value? On the other hand, motherhood is a beautiful miracle chapter that I wish my parents were part of the journey. Have I been overly sensitive, or have I been ignored? I moved on feeling ignored with questions unanswered.
As years passed with my second child came along, my desire was nowhere close. It would be nice if anyone from home considered visiting me. It would be nice if someone acknowledges and accepts the fact that I have moved on. It would be nice if anyone knew how much it means to just ‘be there’ for me at the right time to celebrate an important chapter of my life, create lasting memory as good as a once in a life time wedding day.
One step at a time, my commitment grew deeper by the day. My career, my husband, and my children are my world. They defined and shaped me that I cannot imagine my life without them in equation. I have a thousand why’s, if only, the choices made and most of all, how ignorant has wiped out my fundamental hierarchy of need. The need to feel loved and belonged. I am afraid that the answers are only going to be full of denials and worst, pinning back to me for being inconsiderate. Am I entitled to feel hurt? Do I deserved? Is it even fair for others that I made these assumptions to protect myself?
Every event and moment back home where I was raised, I wish I was there. At where I grew up as a mother, a wife, and a working professional, I wish they’ve been here instead. I often wondered how does my spouse feels to be back at where he was raised. How it feels like with his family less than 50 miles away. All the occasions that I missed back home and all the occasions happening six thousand miles away from home, I thrived for sense of belonging. Deep down, I feel distanced either way.
Having said that, when I pictured myself and my young family in the life that I left behind, I couldn’t see a resolution either. My frames of life have changed over the past five years. The life that I left behind applies to the life I had when I was a child, teenager, single adult, and newly wed couple life. Could I have the same life with a young family, mostly no. The hardship that my spouse and myself went through is a language that can only be understood by us. It is nobody fault, but a little empathy would be greatly appreciated.
The grass is always greener on the other side, or is it always?
The place that raised me and the place I grew up have both shaped me. I am no longer the same person I was when I left home five years ago. I am learning to make a new life in a foreign land and it feels like a mountain to shift on my shoulder. Every challenge and problem solving have sharpen my maturity and perspectives. It almost come to a point where cutting through noise is an imperative skillset to get out of mental chaos. Of course the weight I felt back home will forever be a lot lighter because there were no dependents and comfort is overrated at the name of ‘home’.
Do I really want the life that I left behind? Mostly no because it will be another mountain to shift and more to adapt just like any new place. Can I even go back? Yes as a tourist or whenever my young family decides to call it a home.
Photo by Chander Mohan