I’ve always thought the term “culture shock” sounded
over-dramatic.
In the time leading up to the semester, our group had heard our
fill of “beware’s” about the cultural differences to come during our time in
Romania—how we’d consistently be pushed out of comfort zones, hitting personal
lows in this new environment. In response to this, I specifically recall the
statement “Well, I feel like my comfort zone is being out of my
comfort zone” naively escaping my lips.
To save face from too much shame, the personal trait this
statement stems from is my love to take new experiences head on. I aim to dig
deeply into opportunities and take on new ideas that revamp my previous ways of
thinking. I feel as though I don’t often hold back when it comes to trying
something new, and I get frustrated with myself if ever a situation arises that
hampers me in this respect—I have recognized the fruits that grow from the
labor of challenges in an individual’s life, and I desire to better understand
the part God allows us to play in His world after enduring trials.
So in theory, this mindset sounds great: go abroad, feel the
pull, walk through the valleys of life, and by the grace of God come home “perfect.”—Inner-turmoil
doesn’t sound so bad from the outside. A healthy dose of doubt would spice
things up, and acquiring questions has
to be more exciting than the alternative…or, so it initially seems.
I found myself in a rut last week, one which was not noted
right away—a lack of “solid calling for the future” here, a dose of
“questioning my role in a group” there…all coated in the weariness of a language
barrier to subtly take away just enough energy to hamper productivity. When
those around me didn’t appear as worn and wearied, my analytical nature kicked
in. I began thinking to myself, “God, what is this? I was initially so excited
and ready to learn…why would you choose these means of all possible means to
challenge me…”
And I’d had such nice and neat plans for growth mapped out
ahead of time…
My constant thinking was an ever-present haze that clouded
my mind throughout the days; I knew I was reaching the point where my thoughts
would come to the surface, presumably in a way that broke my composed shell which
so desperately wanted to state “Not to worry, I’ve got everything covered.”—It
ended up being a simple conversation of “How are you doing?” with a few other
girls over our lunch break. After failing to dance around what was really on my
mind, I finally allowed a disheartened admittance of my stressed soul. It was
this wise statement of one of the young women that got me thinking: “Go easy on
yourself; you can’t expect this much growth in such a short amount of time.”
And with that, my own eagerness had bested me—I was so ready
to find the loophole of “change without challenge” in experiencing a new
culture that I was taken aback when I couldn’t swallow so much new in a single dose.
As one of our lectures put it, “Studying different cultures
simply makes you more aware that things could be different.” This statement holds so much conviction for the
inner-self as well—a lack of solid calling can later bring about a different, more fulfilling direction
than initially planned; having a different
role in a group has the potential to be an enlightening experience, with new
skills and facets to a personality just beginning to be refined and utilized;
the difference between the knowledge one
has and the knowledge one desires creates an awareness of all there truly is to
learn, and can make the desire to pursue knowledge more attainable by taking it
one day at a time.
It is only through time that the foreign becomes the
familiar, in both cultural practicalities and personal development. As Dana best
put it in a lecture on virtues: “People need to learn how to be happy in the
midst of striving for goals.” The desire for instant gratification in the human
nature demands to see tangible growth through our experiences, without giving
much rest for the moments we’re not entirely sure what to make of what we’ve
been given. It is then that we must acknowledge that we are continually
growing, only seeing the difference after our new and broadened horizons are in
full view—the conquered inner-valleys are much more recognizable from the
mountain peak, and it’s only then that we realize why the landscape was so vast
and varied during the journey.
It seems that part of the “shock” factor in culture shock is
that we never know the potential form of different we could be in a genuinely different
scenario. It was said we would experience it in our own, individual ways once here—For
me, it was fully resting in the current journey, acknowledging the purpose it
serves as a precursor to all others that are to come.
It was coming to terms with the fact that I could be a more
different type of me and still make
sense out of life.
