6 Types of Reverse Culture Shock Incompetence

“Going “home” was one of the most successful failures of my life.

Not that repatriation is a competition, but had it been the summer I moved back, I would have been a shoo-in for the win,” writes Jerry Jones of The Culture Blend , in Arriving Well*.  

He had more than enough know-how, being a cross cultural trainer and all, plus he had some amazing friends. I almost fell off my chair with emotion when he described the way they set up his apartment and met them at the airport. And I say ‘emotion’ as I’m not sure if I was laughing or crying. Talk about attention to detail- even the cat had a welcome sign. Everything was set up so they could have a smooth transition, and yet it was still hard.

““It’s hard to feel incompetent, isn’t it?” Yep. That’s the word. It echoed for a while. Maybe it still does.

I despised feeling incompetent, but at least in China it had been expected. One look at my face set the bar incredibly low and anything I did to surpass that was met with shock and high praise.”

So after I read Jerry Jones’ chapter in which he so competently explains his incompetence I went back and looked at the re entry post I wrote a few months ago;

7 ways reentry is like invisible illness 

(or Why I prefer scorpion stings to visiting my passport country)

I realised that 1-6 are basically all incompetence. (#7 is Loss)

So here I adapted the original and turned it into:

6 Types of Reverse Culture Shock Incompetence

1.You look like everyone else so drivers assume you will know how to cross the road; people in the supermarket expect you to be able to put a box of corn flakes in the cart trolley and the line up to pay for it. (The Cereal Aisle had to get a mention.)  

You can’t do stuff people expect you to be capable of doing.

2. You've lived there before so you (think you) know how to do all those simple things. Like feed yourself and participate in conversations. Like buy and wear shoes after wearing flip-flops thongs for many years. Like speak Australian English.

You can’t do stuff you expect yourself to be capable of doing.

3. “Have you settled in yet?” It sounds like a perfectly reasonable question to ask but sometimes sounds like “You should feel settled now that you have been back for almost a year.”

You can’t be settled in like it seems people expect. 

4. Every little thing takes so much more effort so you are extra tired. But the bed is too soft, there is no hugging pillow, and it’s so cold you need to use a blanket. Even sleeping needs to be relearned.

You don’t have the ability to sleep as much as you need.

5. In a new environment your hobbies and habits that kept you sane can’t happen.

You aren’t equipped to have fun and relax.

6.Feeling like your arms have been chopped off is such a huge part of your thought life but you don’t know how to communicate this to anyone. 

Incompetence is going to be part of reentry, so get the tools- like Arriving Well. My favourite description of the book:

“The difficult but necessary topic of re-entry is approached so eloquently through five honest, raw, healing personal stories we are all certain to learn from. The co-editors/coaches neatly sum up the useful lessons learned from each story and ask the readers pertinent, reflective questions to help them through their own repatriation journeys. This is one book I will keep handy along with all my other favorite expatriate resources.“

Tina L. Quick, author of The Global Nomad’s Guide to University Transition and Survive and Thrive: The International Student’s Guide to Succeeding in the U.S. and founder of International Family Transitions.

*Brubaker, Cate. Arriving Well: Stories about identity,belonging, and rediscovering home after living abroad. Kindle Edition.

Linking up with Velvet Ashes Reentry June 2019

To my understanding friend

Dear A Life Overseas,

So our mutual friend VelvetAshes is talking about being understood this week. I first started getting to know Velvet Ashes in Instagram, then hung out in the blog and retreat and hope to join a connection group. It’s a place I feel understood, which of course made me think of you too.

I met you just over four years ago, I can’t remember exactly how we met but I remember my first feeling. Shock. I was shocked that you knew how I felt and shocked that you expressed it so well. In some cases I hadn’t really heard anyone talk about some of these things much before. It was so nice to know someone else had been through similar experiences. If that wasn’t helpful enough you also gave me ways to deal with it.

Sometimes you give me new freeing ways to think about the struggle. For example the one about people putting on the glasses of skepticism and backing off when you're dating a local.  Or this one about not hating your husband’s ministry.  Such honest conversations!

Other times you put things in their proper perspective.  Like that time I was feeling overwhelmed about the next step for us. We needed a lot of money. Where would that come from? Then a post popped up in my newsfeed reminding me that feeling like we are small is actually a good perspective to have.  When you are in a valley, big things look big as they are supposed to. Whereas praying in high places can actually be 'dizzy and dangerous' and things look topsy-turvy.

Occasionally it feels like you are right beside me giving me commentary on what is happening, and helping me to think about how to go forward well. Like that night my fear response was taking over my logic, as we made a late night trip to the clinic. I knew my husband’s condition probably wasn’t serious but my brain was tricking me into reliving those times I thought he was moments from death. You were hinting that knowing this is actually a positive thing, and could help me serve better in the future. It's like you know what I'm going through today, and where I need to be headed tomorrow. 

And so many times you make me laugh about the stressful issues I face. Like this one about the re entry process, or this one about returning overseas (I think I laughed while reading...or was that an anxiety attack?!) 

Neither my passport country nor my host country friends can really understand my feeling about home, but you look at it from so many angles. Forbidden roots and tent pegs to name a few. And the numerous posts about saying goodbye and about being a mother come to mind. You totally "get" me!

Photo: Juniper Tree, Chiang Mai, Thailand. When I'm feeling not blue enough for my passport country, and not yellow enough for my host country I need green spaces like this!  A Life Overseas Blog is like my daily green space.

Looking back on the last few years you even knew some of my needs before I did, and managed to bring them to my attention. You always mention both counselling and TCK issues. It is as if you are assuming they should be a normal part of my life. I hadn't thought about it like that before I got to know you. Both sounded irrelevant and a bit painful based on past experience but once I started having counselling sessions and began reading about TCKs I realised you were right. It turns out that the TCK book you keep quoting from is also relevant to cross cultural kids generally, not just one narrow subset like I'd assumed. 

There are so many other posts I could mention as I thank you for being an understanding friend, and I'm also glad you've introduced to me to other blogs and books. So grateful for the way you express and explain so many of my expat emotions; and for equipping me to live well while being too foreign for here or there.

Sincerely, 
A Fan 

Photo by NeONBRAND on Unsplash

Why is being undiagnosed stressful?

Photo credit

Between seasons, between worlds.

Looking outside causes me to squint. Sun is reflecting off water covering our yard.  Although its been raining for a few months this week feels like a key change. We are heading into the serious half of rainy season now. If we are going to be flooded in, it will be sometime in the next 2 months.

Our yard has started to look more like a pond.

Spring photos suddenly began blossoming on my Aussie friends Facebook timelines this week. They are writing about sunshine and thinking about taking the first swim after winter. The soundtrack of my childhood Septembers was sneezing.

Meanwhile my fellow expats are posting "back to school" photos. September is the start of a new school year, the end of "The Summer" and the start of "Fall". International schools in Cambodia follow the same school year as much of the northern hemisphere. I'm seeing those photos, as well as over a decade worth of friends who were in Asia once and are now back in America etc. I first encountered this in China. It was so weird that people called July "The Summer". At least it made sense there where it was actually hot at that time of year. Expats here still call July "Summer"even though the weather is actually cooler than the proceeding months.

No mention of where we are in the Aussie school year, it must be about three quarters of the way through the year. Christmas is synonymous with end of school and summer holidays. The school year follows the calendar year.

And for local government schools here I think their long school vacation is coming up although I'm not really sure. And for the small private schools so many go to, I don't even know if they take a break. The French school is still on summer break I think.

This change in season comes just as I'm thinking about my "greenness" or how I'm most comfortable between worlds.  I first started reading TCK blogs and books for the sake of our kids. Although they don't fit exactly into the definition of Third Culture Kid, there is so much overlap. But I'm finding it useful for myself as well. From age 8 to 18 I lived in the same house, but my whole adult life I've been moving house between 3 different countries.

"...We live between worlds, sometimes comfortable in one, sometimes in the other, but only truly comfortable in the space between..."
From Marilyn Gardner's website

I just realised how much I like this quote even though I've been reading Marilyn Gardner's books and blogs for a few years.  I love the way she describes things. The sights and sounds of Pakistan, and the feeling of straddling homes. (Although I'm not sure of this quotes origin? I need to check...)
(Update: I found it! "Burqas and Miniskirts" in Between Worlds)


Giving birth for the first time. So special. So scary. Where do you want to be for this? For some their passport country seems the best place for them to be looked after. For others their host country is most convenient. For me it worked out that a "between worlds" location was ideal. A third country where neither of us had ever been, but had an expat community. Even though I didn't really know anyone there it felt easy to slot in and I'm so thankful to have shared that time with a collection of Americans who live in various parts of Asia. I had never met them before, and most likely won't see them again.

This current change in season is highlighting the between-ness for me. In my childhood September and spring were practically the same word- they even start with the same letter. But these days I regularly have people ask me "How was your summer?" They mean how was my July, and they are asking because its assumed I would have a different timetable for that month. I will probably always link this time of year to hayfever- but never again to ONLY hayfever- its now also a new school year and watching for floods. 

And then for my husband and children it's a different experience again.

Soeun is neither Australian nor any other kind of expat so September is not spring or "back to school" for him.  And despite the fact that he is a local his home life and most intimate relationships are not local.

And our children? We don't know what their childhood will end up being like apart from that it will be so different from both their parent's childhoods. They eat spaghetti with chopsticks, go on planes more than buses, say zed and zee at the end of the alphabet. And they are growing up with parents who stare at screens... I better go and see what that screaming is.

Photo by KT on Unsplash

6 lengths of time I've had to make a speedy but emotional investment in a home

3

THREE MONTHS

A string of fairy lights ties my first pregnancy/newborn memories to a night market in Chiang Mai, Thailand. We decorated our house with the lights, along with postcards and photos. It felt like our place for those 90 days of maternity leave from Cambodia/Australia.

I tried to make our room feel like home as quickly as possible (without investing too much) as we were only going to be there for three months. 

10

TEN MONTHS

I tacked up, taped up and tied up satiny scarves from the Russian market and photos of friends and family to begin  my first year in Cambodia. The walls were covered in brown marks from the last person's taped up posters, the ceiling was really low and there was little natural light or air flow.

 It was hot and uncomfortable but I needed to make my room feel like home as quickly as possible (without investing too much) as I was only going to be there for ten months.

11

ONE  (academic) YEAR (multiplied by about 6)

Again, photos up on the wall straight away in my Australian student accommodation (and sometimes a rainbow mirror ball). Some years it was my uni course, Bible college year or husband's Bible college.

I tried to make my/our room/s feel like home as quickly as possible (without investing too much) as we were only going to be there for about 11 months.

18

EIGHTEEN MONTHS

To combat the dark, cold months of a north east Chinese winter I bought a gaggle of pot plants for my flat, as well as arranging  photos and pictures above the radiator. The colourful doona cover I received from friends at uni decorated my sofa. Finding a place for the washing machine, that still allowed me to use the kitchen and the bathroom was a big challenge but thankfully got done.

I needed to make my room feel like home as quickly as possible (without investing too much) as I was only going to be there for eighteen months.

24

TWO YEARS?

The patterns breaks down here, I would have loved making it home straight away, especially as we had come from 2 years of stress and were due to have a baby in 6 months...however, the owners were selling so we had to go month by month not knowing if they were going to kick us out- so stressful not to be able to make it feel like home, it had felt like such an essential thing to do all the other times I've moved house. I need a home to rest in so I can function.  

48

FOUR YEARS

Again, the pattern breaks down but for a happier reason. When we knew we would be in the same house for FOUR YEARS we attached hooks and hung empty photos frames on the wall. No need to rush putting photos in, there's plenty of time to do that later. We didn't need to make it feel like home as quickly as possible, as we would be there for FOUR YEARS. So when it came time to pack up we laughed when we took down the still empty photo frames...

I didn't really get interested in last week's Velvet Ashes word until I read The Grove and the readers blog linked up. When I did I realised this is an aspect of expat life I want to record here.  This isn't an exhaustive list of house moves but its the general vibe of the last 20 years.

Photo credit:

Nong Vang

Goodbye season, Hello season

Contrasts at this time of year: dark stormy clouds and brilliant sunshiny green leaves

Goodbye expat friends, particularity one who was part of both Bible study group and the initial playgroup I was part of when we first moved to Siem Reap. Boo.

Hello families with kids on our side of town! Recently been getting to know 2 families from preschool who have kids our kids love playing with. A European family and another Khmer/Barang family. Yay.

Goodbye preschool. We first started there as it has one of the only outdoor play areas and our toddler boy needed to climb and run. We kept going because  its  a safe fun place for our kids, and it gives me time to get stuff done. Such a great mix of Khmer and expat families. Boo.

Hello new home based lifestyle. Since we moved its been getting harder to go into town each day, it will be good to cut out the travel and rush. Now we have space at home for the kids to play so we don't need preschool like we did a year ago. Yay.


Goodbye to turning up to expat women's Bible study group easily. Its held near preschool at the same time as the kids are at preschool.
Hello more space and time to have playdates with people from the expat house church who I'd like to get to know more.

Goodbye shopping mostly at supermarkets with tired kids and a tuk tuk. Since we moved out of town its been hard to get to the market.
Hello going back to walking to the local market, buying meat and veggies easily and getting to know our community.

7 ways reentry is like invisible illness (or Why I prefer scorpion stings to visiting my passport country)

"...next to ignition or blast-off, the re entry phase is the most dangerous and difficult part of a space mission.."

From Craig Storti , The Art of Coming Home, pg 187 

Sudden excruciating pain stabbed into my foot and up my leg.

After flicking the light switch I saw the scorpion, lying, as if innocent, on the bedroom  floor.

“Am I going to die?” was my first thought; closely followed by “We need to take a photo for Facebook.”

No, I didn’t die, and yes, we did get a photo uploaded within minutes. It grabbed the attention of over fifty of my closest friends all around the world. It felt exotic and exciting. Although the sting stung, the memory of it is not painful, in fact I love talking about it.

A memory that is painful is that time my husband was dizzy.

For two years. For no reason.

Nothing was different about his appearance (compared to a healthy person), or even his medical tests, but everything was different for him, for both of us.

“When you get an invisible illness...your whole world alters. How you see yourself changes. But how the world sees you does not. Your illness is invisible to others, to doctors and to the government. The perils of not being seen can be life-threatening.”

3 reasons why Invisible illness is more dangerous  Cassandra Marcella Metzger 2016

Your world changes, but no one can see that. This description of invisible chronic illness sheds light on the reentry process, when you return to your passport country after years away.

Nothing is different about my appearance (compared to an Aussie who has been living in Australia) but everything is different for me.

Living with an invisible illness and going through reentry are both types of unseen pain, unlike a scorpion sting.

7 ways reentry and invisible illness are similar

1.You surprise everyone by not being able to do things they expect you can do.

In your previous life you could work and take care of yourself. Now despite appearances that’s all changed. Some parts take more effort than others, other parts impossible.  Debilitated and disorientated.

People in the supermarket expect you to know what to do.  Drivers expect you will know how to,and be able to cross the road.

2.You surprise yourself by not being able to do things you expect you can do.

Make a list of simple stuff to get done.

Try to do it.

Fail.

Feel surprised and frustrated.

Repeat.

3.You surprise others and yourself by not being what (you perceive) they expect you to be.

“Are you better yet? “

“Have you settled in yet?”

Both friendly well-meaning question but totally miss the magnitude of a chronic illness or an international move.

You need wade through the frustrations those questions might trigger, and see the good intentions behind them.  They know you’ve been to the doctor and/or had a debrief and they are wondering how it is all going.

4.Exhausted

Looking normal and healthy, but feeling tired all the time. Every little thing takes so much effort. You are busy working out a new normal, perhaps including how to sleep. Maybe the old normal way of sleeping isn’t an option anymore, so on top of it all you may be getting less quality sleep.

5.Even fun is hard work

Noticing you are tired and stressed, well-meaning people suggest you should take a break or to go out and have fun. But there is no way to take a break from yourself or your new life. Even ways of fun and relaxation have gone. It takes effort work out how to do it now.

So not only are you more stressed, but you also have no easy way to cope with stress like you did in your old life.

6.Trying not to sound like a broken record

Until recently things were easier and so so different, you can’t help but keep comparing. Every time you try to pay for something, or walk somewhere, it’s hard not to remember how different it is to before. Such a huge part of thought life, yet it feels like you shouldn’t keep boring everyone with “I used to know how to do laundry back in my host culture/before I got sick.”

And even if you do keep sharing this it becomes apparent people don’t really get that you feel like your arms have been chopped off.

7.Loss

You haven’t needed to go to a funeral, you still have all your limbs and your house has not burnt down. You look like anyone else but your normal routines of eating and sleeping are different, different ways of interacting with people and so much more that’s not mentioned here.

Unseen losses mean they might be unexpressed for years and may need to be unraveled somewhere down the track.

*********

“Whoa- that sounds painful!”

It’s easy for others to acknowledge a scorpion sting but they don’t use exclamation marks when you mention that you are dizzy/tired or that you moved from overseas 6 months ago.

When people don’t know or believe you are struggling it “magnifies the pain” (Metzger, 2016). Unseen pain such as reentry, invisible illness and a myriad of other things become even harder.

The sting lasted less than 24 hours, while the worst of the dizziness was 24 months and beyond, so the comparison only goes so far, but according to Metzger, baldness attracts more interest than chronic fatigue syndrome.

“...research into CFS/ME is small, especially when considering the number of people sick and how devastating it is.  “I had looked up male pattern baldness … $18 million for male pattern baldness [but only] $3 million for chronic fatigue syndrome, an illness that affects 1 million people in this country (USA) that has at least 25 percent of them out of work and on disability.” (from Metzger, 2016)

About five years on from when we were living in Australia, I’m still realizing just how hard it was.  We entered culture shock and sickness all at once, as I wrote about here: The Dizzy Monster.

It’s only in the last few years that I’ve been able to think about it. I’ve found it a relief to read other’s stories, such as this one here on Fruitful Today. Kristy writes about how her life changed when she got sick, including how hard it was to be part of church initially, and how different it is now.  If you are sick or someone you know of is sick you might find Fruitful Today useful too!

And here are some blogs on reentry:

 11 Tips for Receiving Well (The Culture Blend)

For friends and family of those moving back “home”. (Rocky Reentry)

How to welcome her back (Velvet Ashes)

And linking up with Velvet Ashes as this week is about Returning.

Update: see also 6 types of reverse culture shock incompetence 

5 Things I like about living in Siem Reap (at the moment)

This used to be our holiday destination- now we live here!

1. The small town feel of bumping into the same people at the supermarket and kids playground, it feels like its easy to get to know people. There are only a handful of shops that sell foreign food, and only a few places to take kids to play- so I often see the same people again and again. Its a lovely community feel. Various nationalities, and it feels like there are quite a few mixed race families (or whatever the proper term is) too, our kids have many playmates who have one Khmer parent and one non-Khmer parent.

I think most expats I know in Phnom Penh are with Christian organisations. I feel like I have much more of a variety of expat friends here, compared to in PP. Might be more related to having kids than having moved to Siem Reap.

 

2. Yet, despite the small town-ness, I can still feel anonymous when I want to. The tourist industry is huge here, I can walk around in the restaurant district and feel like I'm on some exotic holiday.

3. After living in PP, its nice to live in a small town with less traffic and less flooding. It feels so much easier. More relaxed, less hassle to get around. More pleasant for bike riding- a river flanked by grass and tall trees is a much nicer environment than kilometres of busy dirty city.

4. And the whole reason we moved here has worked out too, better than we thought. Originally we wanted to move north as Soeun wanted to help church leaders in remote places by giving them ongoing training and chances to have fellowship. We had looked at living somewhere really remote- it would be a huge adjustment for me, and I'm not sure how I would cope, especially  at this stage of life.  Siem Reap seemed like a good place to live for the family, and at the same time quick and easy for Soeun to travel out. 

However it turns out the church in town already has this set up, and the church leaders/students travel into town for classes. There are now also some other locations a bit out of town when classes are held as well. So Soeun is able to do the ministry he had hoped to do, but without leaving town too much. And if feels like it makes so much sense to join in what is already happening. 

5. growing up in a country that has Christmas and then living in Asia, its been really weird. I remember my first Christmas in Asia, seeing people go to the bank and school etc on Dec 25th, it just seemed so wrong. Thanks to the tourist industry, Siem Reap feels Christmassy in December. We can catch a tuk tuk around and see the Christmas lights. 

Same same but different

There were many surprises when I moved from China back to Australia. As I started interacting with Australians again I realised I’d taken on some foreign habits without being aware. I was reminded of this as Velvet Ashes is currently welcoming new cross cultural workers this month, in particular this week is Welcome to the Team.

“You’ve been to America,” my uncle exclaimed while we were eating a roast dinner.

What do you call this?

I have never been to America and I had no idea why he suddenly made that comment during the meal, seemingly out of nowhere.

He explained that I was using my knife and fork like an American, rather than eating the Australian way. I hadn’t even known that there was an Australian vs American way. (He lived in America for a year.)
I guess I unknowingly developed this habit while I was in China. There was a small group of expats in my town, mostly American. On Tuesday night I would usually eat at one of their places.

Apparently the “American way” is to cut food up with knife in your right hand and fork in left. When you've finished cutting put the knife down and hold the fork in your right hand, use it to get the food to your mouth. Australian way – cut and eat as you go, keeping knife and fork in their original hands.

While I had been oblivious to the different fork methods, it had been an adventure being in community with other expats. Most of them, like me were white, native English speakers. Compared to the millions of Chinese people around us, they were basically the same as me.

My American friends were the ones I talked to about most things and hung out with for fun. They were the ones I freaked out with when a strange new disease (SARS) shut the city down and caused chaos (Should we leave? Should we stay?). They were the ones who had good things like butter and Christmas celebrations. They were the ones who helped me work out what the university meant when it told me to teach “British and American Culture.”

But turns out they seem to feel uncomfortable or embarrassed when I used the Aussie word for flip flops, and I still remember the way they looked at me when I offered them coffee that I had made in the plunger (they say French press, the word “plunger” is reserved for what they use to unblock the toilet).

What do you call this kitchen utensil?

Over a decade later, now in Cambodia, I have been known to say “cookie’, “candy” and “diaper” as if they are normal words.  

I still quietly freak out when a friend tells me her son has a temperature of 102. 

And I may look a bit confused when I hear  “going back to school in the fall” as I’m scrambling to translate to myself what that means. Aside from the fact that "school" can mean university there's a few other things to convert as well. 

This is what goes on in my brain : “So that means Autumn, which is March, no wait, their seasons are all back to front, must mean September. Why would they start school in September, that’s only a couple of months until the end of the year? Oh no wait, that’s the start of their school year.”

I had thought I might need to learn some Chinese to live in China- turns out I also needed to learn American. 

What colour is the wind?

What colour is the wind?
“Ouch!” Kimsoeun my husband laughs at my cry of pain. He is the one who is sick, so why am I screaming? And why is he laughing?

He has had a headache for a few days, but that’s not the pain that makes me say “Ouch”.

To treat his headache he has asked me to “ gos khjol” his back. So I’m scraping a small round metal lid up and down his back until his skin turns red, using a menthol rub as a lubricant.

When his mum does it he ends up with two red lines down either side of his spine, and smaller rib-looking lines going outward from these main two lines. I’m trying to do the same, but I only manage a few small, faint lines here and there. He wanted me to scrape harder but I felt like I was hurting him.

Sometimes “ gos khjol” is translated as “coining” because you can use a coin to do it. Cambodia doesn’t have coins anymore, but Cambodians in Australia use coins and Vicks. It’s similar to the Chinese medicinal practice of “cupping”. Hot cups are placed on the skin until it turns red. Khmer people also use this method and call it “joop khjol”.

Once when a Cambodian husband in Australia “coined” his sick wife, he almost got in trouble because of it. The doctors who were eventually called thought he had been abusing her. After someone’s been “coined” it does looked like something violent happened to them. Red welts on the skin are surely a sign of something bad?

It seemed to be used as a general cure-all. Apparently it can help if you have a fever. “Coining and cupping reroutes the blood flow by opening up the arterials near the skin surface cooling the blood and in turn it can reduce fever.” (Dr Sheftall, American Medical Center, Phnom Penh Post, August 2007)

Sometimes when Kimsoeun has a headache he pinches his skin so hard it stays red for the rest of the day. He explained this is called “jup khjol” and a likened it to a massage. A pretty painful massage if you ask me!

Many Cambodians would feel that they can’t get better from their sickness if they are not “coined”.

The word “khjol” is also the word for wind. When I learnt this I understood why my neighbours kept asking me “What colour is the wind?” They would burst into fits of laughter and I would feel confused. The wind doesn’t have a colour, does it? But now I know the colour of “khjol” is red.