And So I Went, Part 2
"The calm before the storm" is a common phrase I've heard all my life. But, what about the calm after the storm?
When my partner and I returned to the United States, it was January 2019. We wouldn't make it back to Japan until August 2022. The nearly four years it took us to get back to Japan was, in short, excruciating. The storm inside had waged war against me. It consumed me. The quite hum of anxiety that had always been, turned into a violent tremor of resentment and bitterness. I was left exhausted and frustrated in so many ways.
We had landed in Idaho, USA. Thom, my partner and now husband, was given a great opportunity to work in an up-and-coming robotics company. It was too good to pass up with an added bonus of being able to live close to his father and step mother - something Thom had never been able to do before. So, I resigned for the time being, the dream of living in Japan. I settled for Idaho, with the general understanding that we wouldn't be there for longer than a year or two.
In the wake of COVID, however, one year turned into two, turned into three and then nearly four. I want to preface what I am about to share with the acknowledgement that Idaho is a lovely place. It is full of beautiful scenery and activities to accompany it, good natured people with a mid-western attitude and much more. I understand my experience was boggled down by great political and social unrest, a personal growing resentment to the mid-western culture and overall unhappiness and shame within my own culture and values.
That being said, for every happy memory I have in Idaho, there are two negative thoughts attached. Obviously, I don't actually have the ratio of good to bad memories. But, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't keep those intrusive thoughts away. I was restless. I was bored with the same old narrative being told around me. My ideals on life and culture had greatly shifted and was no longer the "American" view. I was finding conversations with even my closest family and friends to be tense and difficult. I began feeling like an outsider in my own country.
I felt like I was going crazy. I was pushing all these feelings down, feeding the beast inside. I knew I couldn't stay there. The storm inside me was a living, breathing entity. My hatred and animosity turning it into a firestorm. To stay in Idaho was to burn all the bridges around us. And honestly, the US as a whole. I didn't see a possibility of being able to put out the flames anywhere in my home country. I knew I had to go.
Thankfully, my husband was just as interested in leaving the country too. And so we went. We went searching for substantial ways to move to Japan. We researched all of our options, discussed our goals as individuals and as a couple and zeroed in on a way that made sense of us. For our future. And we put that plan into motion.
It took over a year and half of planning, prepping and stressing to make it come to fruition. Many people didn't understand what we were doing. Even our closest loved ones struggled to fully accept our vision. Maybe it was a selfish desire. Maybe we are just two young people who used international travel to escape issues we didn't know how to face. But, I was on the brink of being consumed entirely by the flames. So maybe it was a Hail Mary pass. We just knew we needed to leave. We had to give it a shot in order to heal ourselves. And so we went.
I won't lie and say it was easy when we first moved to Japan. It was by far one of the hardest things I have done in my life thus far. It still is hard. But, the quietness here makes all the hard work manageable. Japan is known for being a quite country. The people, the city, even the dogs are quite. Especially in Kyoto, where we live. But the quietness reaches deeper for me. I no longer feel the storm raging in me or hear the bothersome humming. The stillness is comforting. The feeling is soft, warm, and light. It floats with satisfaction in my stomach and dances behind my eyelids when I go to sleep.
This. This is the feeling of the calm after the storm. The deep sense of peace and acceptance that washed over me. I didn't know I could feel such tranquility just from simply residing in a place.
I don't know if this place will always make me feel in such a way. I don't know if this is our forever home. I am well aware that feelings and situations can change. I am a firm believer in the ability to adapt. But, for the first time in my adult life, I am not itching to leave. And, when I am away, all I can think of is getting back. Back to our new home. And so, for now, here I will stay.
