So I've officially been home for 20 days.
It's been cool, I guess.
I'm feeling the changes more, this year, than I did last year. I'm not sure I like them all that much. It's really weird - I knew that there was something called ex-pat dissonance, but I always thought I'd be able to get over it, ya know? That it wouldn't affect me. But it's hitting me like a punch to the gut, and it's weird.
Let me explain.
I love the UK. I love going to university there. The past two years of my life have been some of the most amazing, ever. I've had a lot of difficulties and law school is not fun, but I have loved every single minute of it. Every meal I have cooked for myself, every time I have packed my room up and moved it into storage, every time I have travelled alone, I love it. I love the independence of living alone, abroad, away from everyone I know. It gave me a chance to be someone completely different from whom I was at home, in Singapore. It gave me a chance to be a different person all together, and to not be judged. As if that itself weren't heady enough, I got to do this in a country waaaaay more liberal than the one I come from. In the UK, pretty much everyone who's close to me is aware that I'm bisexual. Everyone knows that I write, and that I'm in fandom, and it's a fact of life that every now and then me and some friends like to get together and screech at pictures of Tom Hiddleston, and that's fine. No one knows that about me, in Singapore, except my sisters, whether by blood or choice. That's three people. Who know that if I meet Benedict Cumberbatch on the street, I will scream and die. Who know that I'm a pretty vehement feminist, and that I have, on occasion, argued for cannibalism. Who know that I am liberal in the extreme, and a socialist, and that I vaguely do entertain notions of a higher power, even if I'm not too sure who they are. Three. People. And in the UK, I can argue feminism with people I've hardly even met, and get along like a house on fire. I can say things without censoring myself, and if I meet someone on the street whom I want to talk to, I do it, and I say what I want.
In the UK, I learned that if I wanted to, I could wear a sleeveless top, and that I'm a size 10 and that's pretty much the average size for women, and that people have different shapes and that's okay. I also learned that some people are more hairy than other people, and that that's okay too, and that ain't nobody got time to remove all of it. I learned that people don't see the flaws that you do, when you look in the mirror. See yourself through someone else's eyes, and you'll find other things to focus on. I learned that I have an incredible smile, and that when I smile, my whole face changes to the point that I look like a different person. I hadn't known that until I went there. I'd spent 20 years of my life hating my face, and my body, and my hair (both on my head and on my body) and everything about myself down to the way I walked and smiled (I smile crooked). It took going to the UK to change that.
I don't know if I'm explaining this right, but the UK has this incredible sense of freedom, both because I'm AWAY from everything, and because of the culture, where it's okay to be outspoken and opinionated, and it's okay to not fit in with some exact body shape, and my hair actually does rock and no one notices that I haven't got foundation on.
I love Singapore too, don't get my wrong. I love my family, and the food, and occasionally my friends. But I feel stifled. I feel like I have to go back to being who I was in 2011, before I left. I'm not that person anymore. And the thing is, a lot of things that were ME were just very quietly suppressed, and tucked away. Because it wasn't okay to be open about them here. I went there, and I took a chance, and it was amazing to be out about everything. It was incredibly freeing. But coming back here meant all of that had to be put back into the box, and it doesn't fit there anymore. It just doesn't. I've changed. The things about me have CHANGED, and it's still not okay to be out and proud here but I AM. I'm out, and PROUD, and it hurts that that all has to go back in. It's my parents, it's the society, the culture, the media. Everything. Everything will force me to put me away, for fear of being ostracized. For fear of consequences.
And it's like a physical ache.
I've only met up with MC so far, today. She's leaving for Australia on Friday, and I'm not happy about it. I mean, I'm delighted for her, and it's going to be an incredible experience, but I'm not happy that I won't be seeing her for at LEAST a year. Literally, if I don't get a job in the UK, I'll see her next year. If I do, it could be two, three, four years down the road before I meet her again. MC's like a sister to me, so. I haven't met anyone else yet. Who could judge me. I mean. I consider these people my close friends. I love them. They're lovely. But they didn't know a lot of stuff about me because I was scared to tell them. I know I could be seen as a wimp, but what does it say that there was something to be scared of. See what I mean? I haven't met them yet - I will have to arrange something soon. I'm not sure what will happen when I do. They said that my accent had changed last year, and that I dressed differently (because I'd decided that Idgaf what they thought about my body shape/sartorial choices). I don't know what they'll say this year. I'm reluctant. It's worrying me. But they are my friends, you know?
I've been thinking about this a lot, and I read an article that pretty nicely sums it up. And it's true.
It's probably also a fear that while I've changed in one direction, other people have changed in another direction. I don't recognize a lot of the furniture in my house, and a lot of my mothers students. Sometimes my sister does things that stump me, because she never used to do these things before. I'm comparing the life I left to the life I'm returning to, and it's so completely different that sometimes I just have to stop in the street and pause, because holy shit, that building wasn't there when I left. My neighbours dog died, while I was gone, and when I stepped off the lift on my floor for the first time in almost 9 months, I was waiting for it to bark at me, and it didn't bark, and it felt like somehow, this life had deflated, and that it wasn't real anymore.
I'm having more weird, incomprehensible dreams. I am not a happy camper. Well, I am. I love my family, and my house, and my mum's food, but that's about it. If my family moved with me, I think I'd feel more at home in the UK, the way things stand. That article had it right. It's stopped being "how many months have I been here" in the UK, and has become "how many months have I been gone".
I'm feeling the changes more, this year, than I did last year. I'm not sure I like them all that much. It's really weird - I knew that there was something called ex-pat dissonance, but I always thought I'd be able to get over it, ya know? That it wouldn't affect me. But it's hitting me like a punch to the gut, and it's weird.
Let me explain.
I love the UK. I love going to university there. The past two years of my life have been some of the most amazing, ever. I've had a lot of difficulties and law school is not fun, but I have loved every single minute of it. Every meal I have cooked for myself, every time I have packed my room up and moved it into storage, every time I have travelled alone, I love it. I love the independence of living alone, abroad, away from everyone I know. It gave me a chance to be someone completely different from whom I was at home, in Singapore. It gave me a chance to be a different person all together, and to not be judged. As if that itself weren't heady enough, I got to do this in a country waaaaay more liberal than the one I come from. In the UK, pretty much everyone who's close to me is aware that I'm bisexual. Everyone knows that I write, and that I'm in fandom, and it's a fact of life that every now and then me and some friends like to get together and screech at pictures of Tom Hiddleston, and that's fine. No one knows that about me, in Singapore, except my sisters, whether by blood or choice. That's three people. Who know that if I meet Benedict Cumberbatch on the street, I will scream and die. Who know that I'm a pretty vehement feminist, and that I have, on occasion, argued for cannibalism. Who know that I am liberal in the extreme, and a socialist, and that I vaguely do entertain notions of a higher power, even if I'm not too sure who they are. Three. People. And in the UK, I can argue feminism with people I've hardly even met, and get along like a house on fire. I can say things without censoring myself, and if I meet someone on the street whom I want to talk to, I do it, and I say what I want.
In the UK, I learned that if I wanted to, I could wear a sleeveless top, and that I'm a size 10 and that's pretty much the average size for women, and that people have different shapes and that's okay. I also learned that some people are more hairy than other people, and that that's okay too, and that ain't nobody got time to remove all of it. I learned that people don't see the flaws that you do, when you look in the mirror. See yourself through someone else's eyes, and you'll find other things to focus on. I learned that I have an incredible smile, and that when I smile, my whole face changes to the point that I look like a different person. I hadn't known that until I went there. I'd spent 20 years of my life hating my face, and my body, and my hair (both on my head and on my body) and everything about myself down to the way I walked and smiled (I smile crooked). It took going to the UK to change that.
I don't know if I'm explaining this right, but the UK has this incredible sense of freedom, both because I'm AWAY from everything, and because of the culture, where it's okay to be outspoken and opinionated, and it's okay to not fit in with some exact body shape, and my hair actually does rock and no one notices that I haven't got foundation on.
I love Singapore too, don't get my wrong. I love my family, and the food, and occasionally my friends. But I feel stifled. I feel like I have to go back to being who I was in 2011, before I left. I'm not that person anymore. And the thing is, a lot of things that were ME were just very quietly suppressed, and tucked away. Because it wasn't okay to be open about them here. I went there, and I took a chance, and it was amazing to be out about everything. It was incredibly freeing. But coming back here meant all of that had to be put back into the box, and it doesn't fit there anymore. It just doesn't. I've changed. The things about me have CHANGED, and it's still not okay to be out and proud here but I AM. I'm out, and PROUD, and it hurts that that all has to go back in. It's my parents, it's the society, the culture, the media. Everything. Everything will force me to put me away, for fear of being ostracized. For fear of consequences.
And it's like a physical ache.
I've only met up with MC so far, today. She's leaving for Australia on Friday, and I'm not happy about it. I mean, I'm delighted for her, and it's going to be an incredible experience, but I'm not happy that I won't be seeing her for at LEAST a year. Literally, if I don't get a job in the UK, I'll see her next year. If I do, it could be two, three, four years down the road before I meet her again. MC's like a sister to me, so. I haven't met anyone else yet. Who could judge me. I mean. I consider these people my close friends. I love them. They're lovely. But they didn't know a lot of stuff about me because I was scared to tell them. I know I could be seen as a wimp, but what does it say that there was something to be scared of. See what I mean? I haven't met them yet - I will have to arrange something soon. I'm not sure what will happen when I do. They said that my accent had changed last year, and that I dressed differently (because I'd decided that Idgaf what they thought about my body shape/sartorial choices). I don't know what they'll say this year. I'm reluctant. It's worrying me. But they are my friends, you know?
I've been thinking about this a lot, and I read an article that pretty nicely sums it up. And it's true.
It's probably also a fear that while I've changed in one direction, other people have changed in another direction. I don't recognize a lot of the furniture in my house, and a lot of my mothers students. Sometimes my sister does things that stump me, because she never used to do these things before. I'm comparing the life I left to the life I'm returning to, and it's so completely different that sometimes I just have to stop in the street and pause, because holy shit, that building wasn't there when I left. My neighbours dog died, while I was gone, and when I stepped off the lift on my floor for the first time in almost 9 months, I was waiting for it to bark at me, and it didn't bark, and it felt like somehow, this life had deflated, and that it wasn't real anymore.
I'm having more weird, incomprehensible dreams. I am not a happy camper. Well, I am. I love my family, and my house, and my mum's food, but that's about it. If my family moved with me, I think I'd feel more at home in the UK, the way things stand. That article had it right. It's stopped being "how many months have I been here" in the UK, and has become "how many months have I been gone".