Ep. 13 The Pression

In light of recent events, our regular and unusual tales of doom, duels and dandelions has been suspended until next issue.

So, short post tonight--which might help to explain why there was no post last week--and then a possible addendum later (or maybe another post, I don't know). I am homesick. Now, to say that this is a first would be untrue; we all go through homesickness at one time or anther. However, there is a difference between homesickness surrounded by people, and homesickness alone. For most of my time here in Japan, I have been culturally, socially, and linguistically isolated. And, in October, it has gotten worse every week. This, I will just say, has nothing to do with the company that I work for. On the contrary, everyone there has been wonderful, supportive, and incredibly nice to me, and I adore them all. Rather, what I have come to realize is that I may have jumped in a little over my head. I have never lived alone. I have never held a corporate job. I have never lived outside of Oregon. In short, I have no life raft of familiarity to cling to over here, and last weekend things came to a boil. In short, I lost it. I broke down. I was wandering Konosu, discovering new and exciting things, when suddenly I started to cry and I just didn't know why. I just felt so lost, so empty, and so alone; it was like no matter what I was doing over here everything was going wrong and it was all my fault for not being smart/ mature/ worldly enough to know what to do in a situation that I should have learned how to get out of by now. I wondered why I was here, and what I was doing wrong that was leading to my isolation. I was friendly, I said hello to people, I went out and left my town nearly every weekend at least once and did something. I even talked to my friends and family back home at least once a week over video, and many more times over text. Yet, no matter what, I wasn't happy, and I had to question why I was staying some place if I wasn't happy.
It got really bad, to the point that I probably wasn't safe living on my own. The week previous, on and off, I had considered just buying a plane ticket and ending up back in Portland to never live abroad again. Why didn't I? Well, two reasons. For one, it would have been an utter disservice to my students about whom I care the most. It would leave them confused, and my workplace utterly in chaos. Such an act would have had many regrettable ramifications, all of which were entirely avoidable. The second reason is my stubbornness. There is a Japanese proverb that goes: The nail that sticks out gets hammered down, an aspect of society that is not so much intentional as expected. Every culture has a set of such unintentional expectations, and they are neither good nor bad. However, as many who know me will attest, I am not easily hammered flush with the rest of society. It's not that I strive to stand out, it's that I don't see the point in being miserable just to fit in. That same stubbornness that prevents me from being easily assembled into this society is yet the same stubbornness that may well see me through to the end of my contract; a subtle irony that I am not unaware of.
Yet that still begs the question: why am I still here? Well, many who know me and have come for advice have received one crucial suggestion: talk about it. It boggles my mind how many people, when confronted with an issue, will go to intense lengths to solve it, yet will never do such a simple task as talk about it. I talked about it with friends and family from home. I talked about it with my fellow staff members. But, perhaps most importantly of all, I talked about it with my trainer, and with some of my fellow newbie teachers. In my trainer, I found a fantastic resource who has gone through this, "trough" as he called it and who could give me advice to guide me. From my fellow newbies, I found a group of people far subdued from our first few weeks in Japan, plus some new people as well. Most of us were going through these feelings in some way, shape or form; most had it easier than me, but some had it worse. And with all of these things in my mind, I have made a decision: I am not going home yet, but nor have I decided to fulfill my contract to the end. This year was always going to be hard--I knew that going in--and perhaps the best way to make a hard thing easier is to address it in chunks. So, I will address the issue month by month. At the end of every month, I will ask myself, "can I see myself surviving this for another month?" If the answer is yes, then I will stick around. If the answer is no, then I will alert the company that the next month will be my last. My current goal is to make it at least to New Years. It is a regrettable state of affairs, but it is how things are. Other factors, of course, will play into it. If it becomes unsafe for me to live alone, then I will return to Portland as soon as possible. So far, things are looking up; today I had lunch with a newbie friend who happens to teach in the next school over, and tomorrow I get to go to Nikko with my colleagues, a trip that I am very excited and thankful for.
I shall end this post with a couple more notes. First off, I am adding my blog posts to my nano total. I could see myself publishing these entries into a more cohesive whole one day, so I see nothing wrong with doing so. Also, if I did not add it to my total, I might not write, which is a very therapeutic way to process my adventures. Secondly, I have a proverb of my own that I try to live by over here: the best reed is the one which bends but does not break. Lastly, I will still say that being in Japan has been an amazing experience. I have learned so much, both about life and about myself. Even though it has been hard, I would still recommend this experience to anyone. Anyway, this has been a (perhaps) somewhat-less-than-exciting Adventure in the Austentatious. If you like me, tell your friends; if you hated me, tell your enemies; and if you felt ambivalent either way, then tell everyone.