As a repatriate, some of the points in this article hit home, especially since my return was (mostly) involuntary. Take a look at the article below and feel free to comment. Hopefully, other repatriates will comment too.
Repatriation Blues: Expats Struggle With The Dark Side Of Coming Home
This is a New York Times opinion piece making the case for more Black Americans to consider expatriation. As someone who has been there and done that, this wasn’t a surprising read to me and is mostly relatable.
No country is a utopia, let’s get that straight. But it’s easy for me, a former expatriate, to understand the reasoning behind this opinion piece. America is in a tie, in my opinion, with Australia for being the most racist/prejudiced country on the planet. Any deeper-thinking and feeling person (who happens to be Black American) would want to leave a country in which we were enslaved in the past and still fighting for equality in the present.
Enough of my jet-lagged rambling. Take a look at this, and feel free to comment.
New York Times opinion piece – The Next Great Migration http://www.nytimes.com/2015/03/01/opinion/sunday/the-next-great-migration.html?smid=pl-share&_r=1
I’m feeling: exhausted. Drained. Tired. Sleepy.
I’m listening to: mostly silence.
I’m thinking about/wondering why: traveling. Going on a real vacation. Sleeping. Anything other than paperwork. This month being over.
I’m reading: not much now, but already looking at Kindle prices & models to decide which one to get. That’ll hopefully happen by the end of the month.
I’m looking forward to: reading again once I get my Kindle. Having this Friday & Monday off. August being over.
I’m learning to/practicing to/working on/embracing: properly delivering bad news from a SW perspective. Paperwork for credentials. Myself, always.
I’m enjoying: The First 48.
I’m creating: …
I’m grateful for: second chances at life. The lives of those who are no longer with us. Employment. Observation. Discernment. Social support.
Around the house are: uniquely flavored Oreo cookies to mail to a friend of mine in the U.S. Virgin Islands.
In the kitchen: tilapia & rice noodles. The tilapia recipe is from SparkPeople.
I’m planning this week to: take time for & to myself. Distract myself over the long holiday weekend. Continue exercising (even though it doesn’t seem like anything is changing). Possibly meet up with an old friend who I haven’t seen since my time overseas.
I don’t have any quotes this week. I’m not inspired enough because this hasn’t been a good month. Since 07.30.2014, I’ve had a family member die, another family member have 2 major medical emergencies, another family member attempt suicide, and a client death last week (likely by suicide). Add to that Robin Williams’ suicide, Eric Garner (my hometown, by the way), Michael Brown and the disgusting yet unsurprising racism & racists (which I refuse to read; why give myself a stroke?), and countless other issues going on worldwide, and you can stick a fork in me because I’m done.
So instead, I’m dedicating this to the memory of my family member instead. Rest in peace, Aunt Jean 1926 – 2014.
Here’s to hoping that September – hell, the rest of the year – is better than this. Take it easy & take care.
Exactly 1 year ago today, I received a letter in the mail that’d change my life for a long time, if not for good.
It was a Thursday evening, and I came home from a long day at work, with my team on duty for 3 days straight. I was glad to be home. It’d been my home for a little over 3 years, and I thought I’d be there for a long time to come.
There was mail in front of my door. I picked it up and saw that one piece was from the Home Office. I thought to myself
Oh, good. The Home Office will renew my visa. I’ll get to stay here a bit longer, save money, travel a bit, and even look into dual citizenship.
I put away my belongings, settled in to read my mail and maybe watch a little television – likely something I DVRed, no doubt. I opened the Home Office mail and read it. Then my heart sank deep into my stomach. The Home Office denied my visa application. I was a overstayer.
I re-read the letter a few times to make sure that it wasn’t a joke. But nothing in the letter changed. I was an accidental overstayer. I was speechless for a bit, and even fought back tears. (I can’t remember who won – me or the tears.) I called my aunt and let her know, and I told her I’d keep her posted.
Little did I know that this was the beginning of the end – the end of my expatriate life, the end of my independence, and the end of my life as I lived it for ___ years. And to this day, I’m still feeling the effects – they aren’t as strong as 1 year ago or even a few months ago, but they’re still there.
I hope my day is so busy that I don’t dwell on the anniversary. I hope that the bitterness goes away completely one day – some of it is gone, but some still remains. I hope that I can handle unfinished business over there. But in the meantime, for the way my expatriate life ended over there, that place can go straight to hell.
I’m feeling: a little relaxed, physically. Otherwise, so-so.
I’m listening to: (or more like watching) Investigation Discovery channel.
I’m thinking: hopefully this week will be better than last week. Last week was rough & disappointing, in my professional life and my personal life.
I’m reading: on the internet to try catching up with current events.
I’m learning that: friendship is fleeting. It’s not always me, it’s you/them. No matter what one says or does (or doesn’t say or doesn’t do), one can’t satisfy everyone. I can’t take on others’ personal issues. I must look out for myself because
no job no friend no relative no one else will.
I’m enjoying: not much this past week, unfortunately.
I’m creating/planning: my next steps professionally and personally. A trip somewhere – don’t know where, but the travel bug is back again and it must be addressed with an overseas trip (hopefully within the next 12 months). The expatriate bug has been biting on & off too, so who knows what’s next…
I’m grateful for: spending time with my friend’s family on Friday evening – they’re the American version of the Mauritian family in England. Someone online who not only offered me an ear, but followed through and lent it to me – too many make promises and don’t keep ’em, do things only if it benefits them and if it’s reciprocated even more than what they gave.
Around the house are: my boxing gloves for kickboxing class.
In the kitchen: a Carvel ice cream cake for my uncle for Father’s Day and a quickly-planned lunch for my uncle (nothing fancy, but hopefully he’ll like it).
I’m planning this week to: schedule other appointments with referred doctors. Cook once or twice. Take kickboxing class again. Join Planet Fitness. Figure out my next professional steps. Figure out how to get to my stepmother’s graduation barbeque. Rethink all friendships. Rethink myself. Try staying focused on rebuilding my life because unfortunately, what that borough did to me still reverberates throughout my life to this day.
My quote/verse for the upcoming week is:
“Even when we’re quiet and don’t know what to say, we can be heard. Even when we are wordless, we can be understood.”