#thirdculturekid

[allholyshitthings]

Absolutely love your blog!

Aww, that’s so kind of you! Thank you so much 😊 Love yours too! Let me know if you’ve got an Insta and/or Pinterest account I can follow 🙌🏻

[gigibrumit]

She's watered the earth 

Like a garden

With pieces of her heart.

Her tears, her love, her pain, her joy

Seep into the earth, the ground.

Scattered from east to west,

Here and there. 

She's been everywhere so fully,

She's not fully here.

@GigiBrumit

[chiquitck]

(Un)Happy Place

I sometimes wonder just how different my life would be if I lived somewhere else than I do at the moment. I sometimes wonder in what ways I would have evolved differently as a person if I had lived elsewhere than the places I did. I sometimes wonder if I would be happier if I moved - sometimes I specifically wonder if I’d be happier if only I could move to California, or to Berlin, or to Singapore.

Maybe “wondering” isn’t the right word. Neither is “if”, I don’t think.

After many years of struggling with my life and learning how to live in my own shoes, I’ve grown acutely aware of the ways in which my upbringing has affected me. I’ve experienced exhilarating happiness - contentness, connection - and I’ve experienced tremendous sadness - pain, loneliness.

I know that this has shaped me into the person I, today, confidently call “myself” and “Laura”.

And yet, I’m caught up on the fact that she isn’t someone who’d exist the way in which she does if she’d gotten to be happy in her life.

Would I have been happier if we’d gotten to stay in California, where I’d established myself and spent many happy years? Likely.

Would I have been happier if we’d moved to Singapore, the country of my dreams, and I’d attended international school there instead of having to move to Germany and attend German public school? Likely.

Would I have been happier if we’d moved to Berlin, the capital of Germany and a grand, diverse city, and I’d gotten to attend American school with my friends there? Likely.

Would I still be happier right now, in this moment, and in my future high school year(s) to come, if any of these moves I’ve so yearned for became a reality? Likely.

But alas, maybe “would” is not the right word. It isn’t so. I am who I am today because my life up until now has been what it has been. In the end, realistically, I’d like to make the best out of myself and out of my life as it is now.

I’ve always been a bit of a dreamer, with my head in the clouds.

So why can’t my dreams manifest themselves on Earth for me? Why can’t I take my life into my own hands, and create something that gives me purpose and a smile on my face?

What bothers me is that these choices aren’t mine to make, never have been. Not at this point in my life, where I am dependent off of my parents’ will, my parents’ jobs, and the opportunities we have.

Just like everyone else, I have to deal with what life throws at me, I have to go with the flow. And in my case, that means my life being ripped away from me along with the many lives that I could have lived or could be living, and being physically, geographically stuck where I am at the current moment.

There are many reasons for my relative unhappiness here, I don’t want to get into the details. It has gotten better from the absolute worst, that’s why I say relative. Still, it’s enough to know that even though I try to make the best out of my life here, it’s nowhere near what I could be experiencing.

It might be a stroke of bad luck that things didn’t work out here these past... almost four years (crazy, come to think of all that time), and it might partly be due to reverse culture shock and difficulty with re-entry into one of my passport countries, and it might at this point even be because of the hate and reluctance I’ve fostered to commit to a place that has made me so unhappy, and it’s most likely an amalgamation of all of these things, but:

I’m not happy here. I feel like I’ve wasted away four, soon-to-be five years of my youth, years I’m never going to get back. (I think that’s a common phenenomen in kids and teens with mental illness, as well.)

While I know I could’ve been happy, could be happy right now, have been happy, elsewhere.

The happier I am on my trips, the sadder the return “home”.

Why is it that I’ve had to lose so many friends, and always have to try to make new ones? Why is it that I don’t have a friend group that includes me in their life like everyone else does? Why is it that I have to text and skype all of my friends, day-in, day-out, instead of getting to spend time face-to-face, out and about? Why is it that I never have anyone to hang out with or party with when I’m in the mood to enjoy my youth to its fullest? Why is it that I get to meet this wonderful gay! girl in California, and this sweet fun guy in Berlin, but can‘t keep dating them because of distance? Why is it that I have to keep switching tongues, and still get looked at strangely for mixing them up? Why is it that I have to explain myself when I’m just being myself, why is it that it’s suddenly okay to ask me “what I am”? Why is it that wherever I go, I have to choose between my friends and my homes, and will always end up unintentionally neglecting and missing all but one of them? Why is it that this heartache only increases the richer my life becomes, the more people and places grow close to my heart? Why is it that I have to watch everyone else, my friends in other places, and my friends or people here, living their life, while I’m missing out on being a part of it - missing out on living my own life?

It’s not fair. I’m jealous. And, I’m terribly heartbroken over the reality of my own life.

(I’m sorry that this post doesn’t end on a positive note. I just don’t feel that forcing myself to do so would reflect my true emotions, and I feel that those deserve to be expressed before a positive thought process is pushed upon them. I promise to try to do so in due time, and I do not negate its existence, but - grief comes first. All that is felt and thought is unconditionally valid, in my humble opinion. Have a nice day!)

[tinyeyescomics]

It takes me a while to fully accept who I am culturally. This was especially difficult when I was at a younger age. In a foreign environment, I wanted to be like the others, to fit in, to be more American and less Chinese. I still remember the day I tricked someone into believing that I’m from the United States with my perfect American accent. I was really proud as if I’ve achieved a great transformation. Although the next second when my friends started to talk about their childhood memories, I was lost again.

I thought the UK was going to be more or less like the US, since they both speak English. Of course, they turned out to be very different and I was very ignorant. I realised that I need to throw away all that I’ve acquired from the U.S. culturally in order to reconstruct my identity all over again: convert to the British accent, eat Sunday roast, watch BBC, drink alcohol till I couldn’t remember anything the next day. The assimilation process was violent. I started to feel like a container, empty by itself but can take whatever I’m asked to carry, yet deep down I was never in peace with myself. This feeling intensified when my Beijing colleagues commented on my way of doing things as a little “westernised”. Suddenly I feel that I didn’t belong anywhere anymore. I was culturally confused.

I don’t know if it’s age, or the fact that I’ve talked to many people who have similar experience, but finally, I’m now comfortable with who I am. I speak with a mixture of American and English accent and I barely drink any alcohol. I carry lots of values from Chinese culture, but my time living abroad has added many layers to my identity and has stretched my heart into something larger and richer. I don’t have to be one or the other. I can be all of them combined. This is a great feeling, much greater than tricking someone into believing in something that I’m not.

[faithnotbysight-blog]

June 2018. 4 years in the Philippines. 1 year (hopefully) 'till graduation. Grace carried me here, and by grace I will carry on 🙏🇺🇸🇵🇭 -------------------------------------- #fightthegoodfight #gracealone #FilAm #thirdculturekid #Godsplan

[ghostwriter98-blog]

As a TCK, going to college in your “home” country means having to pretend like you fit in somewhere where you actually feel completely lost. Pretending to be someone you’re not. And then you wonder where you really fit in. And you cant think of anywhere. And when the realization that nowhere you go in the entire world will ever really feel like home kicks in....well there’s no coming out from it.

[theperpetualexpat-blog]

When you’re speaking one of your target languages and accidentally say something sexual and the native speaker is just like:

[iam-from-blog]

I am from --

To kick things off, let’s talk about what inspired me to write this post...

I recently had to go for an event where making friends was err... Essential. If you knew me, you would know that I’m a fairly social person - I love interacting with strangers of different personalities and background, and I like to think that I get along quite well in a culturally-diverse pool of people.

So back to this event - I found myself anxious not because I had to make friends, but because the realization of the fact I'll get asked the usual questions like "Where are you from?" dawned upon me. Now, here’s where the struggle of being a Third Culture Kid (TCK) comes in.

“Where are you from?”

When you’re a TCK, a simple question like “Where are you from?” comes with inexplicable complexity. A 10-second war is declared mentally; an internal argument considering our physical belonging, psychological belonging and emotional belonging commences before blurting out an extremely summarized answer. Sometimes, I ask "Do you wanna guess?" to make things a little bit more fun. After which, a shot of worry shows across their face, and I get my cue to say "Don't worry, I've heard all sorts of answers. I won't get offended". And much to my surprise, I hear a new nationality every single time I ask. Truth be told; sometimes, I wish that I had a poster of my life story that comes together with an FAQ section.

Despite already-having a short and long template answer, we can’t help but struggle at the question. And I find myself struggling even harder the older we get. And like what they often say: Home is a feeling, not a place. And until the time I find a place that feels like home, I will continue to share my story and play guessing games with everybody.

But that is what makes being a TCK so exciting; you figure your own story out as you go along, and how you put it out there is never the same.It is constantly evolving, and you will never run out of stories and knowledge to impart onto your peers.

“Why is your accent like that?”

When you spend your developing years in an international school, the ‘international school’ accent will tend to stay with you throughout your life, no matter which country you go to. Often recognized as American, more often than not, you will hear a tinge of at least 3 different accents here and there because we catch how our friends and teachers speak. When I was younger, I never had to order my own food because food was provided in school and you just had to queue up for it (and yes, you can go for a second round if you wanted to). Even if I did, my orders were fine and I got my cold milo and Hello Panda as asked.

Life got trickier when we moved to Singapore. Don’t get me wrong, growing up in Malaysia, I am no stranger to malay slangs like lah, wor, and even walao eh. But the real struggle came in when I had to order things as simple as a bottle of water in a kopitiam. Not having to experience such an arduous situation before, I realized that I had to adapt and I had to adapt quick.

Being a TCK, you grow up to become flexible, versatile and easy-going because you know that simple solutions like a slight change in how you pronounce a word can turn things around for you. You simplify precarious situations, break them down and streamline your options to reach a feasible solution.

You start to feel like you belong to nowhere in particular

Growing accustomed to being surrounded by people who are in the same boat as you - children of expats, ‘international school kids’ of different nationalities, background, and culture - you start to get used to being different. Only because being different was the norm (Oh, the sweet taste of irony). But once you are torn out of that ‘it’s-normal-to-be-different’ culture, and are forced into the complete opposite scenario, you start to feel lost. Despite English being the common language, I could not help but feel misplaced. I looked different, I spoke different, my thought process was different, my body language was different (Hell, even my sense of humor was different!) - I was different. It was an obstacle I had to combat and learn from alone because I knew my siblings were also going through the same struggle.

Overtime, you start to embrace being different because that is what makes you who you are. You are a collection of every single person you have met and every single city or country you have visited; taking with you only the best fragments to become the person that you are today. The best part is, you are not even done yet.

You become desensitized to goodbyes

Studying/growing up in international school meant your classmates/friends will eventually need to go back to their home country, or move elsewhere with their parents. Having to give my first wave of goodbyes to my primary 3 classmates back in my hometown, and then constantly having to bid farewell to my classmates/friends in Malaysia, I knew at an early age that people come and go and concluded that goodbyes were normal.

The crushing dolefulness people would typically feel when a friend leaves is an alien emotion to us. Instead, we get excited about their departure because we know that a new environment means new experiences and new adventures for them.

Settling down is no longer a problem, because you know that you are never going to settle down. Instead, you and exotic lands are tightly intertwined like lovers in a sandy beach; inquisitive yet receptive to whatever comes your way. And whatever that may be, it is another chapter added to your book.

It’s not always a bad thing..

With all that said, I must admit: being a Third Culture Kid  has its perks. The friends you make are friends-for-keeps, no matter the distance. You see the world in a different light from others - You appreciate many things, big or small, a lot might not. You recognize your blessings because you very well know that it could be much worst. Most importantly, you know the importance of basking in the now, because you know that it could all be gone/different by tomorrow.