26 (Part 1)
It's been almost 1.5 years since my last post. It's quite crazy how much life can change in such a short time.
There have been times when I would bump into some acquaintances and they'd seem like they knew what I'd been up to, the challenges I'd faced, how I'd been feeling. They would act like they actually knew me, while that feeling wasn't reciprocated. I'd feel transparent and vulnerable, and if I'm really honest.. a bit of regret in my gut. But I'd remember all the messages I got that said they were glad they weren't the only ones feeling that way. I suppose if it helps even one person feel less lonely, or less lost, then I'm okay being a little vulnerable.
I like reflecting on my life occasionally. What would 22 year old me say? What about 17 year old me? If I met 5 year old me today, would she be proud of me? Or would I be a disappointment to her?
How much did 22, 17, 5 know about growing up? They knew about the apparent accomplishments attached to this age. They probably expected 27 year old me to have climbed up the corporate ladder, with a secure job and a steady income, possibly as a manager of some sort. With a sweet ass rented home, in a long-term relationship, maybe about to settle down.
But the great thing about growing up is that no one's path of growth is really the same. We have a vision of how we want our lives to turn out. But the exciting thing I've discovered throughout the past 3 years is that life can really bring you to different places, to different people, through unexpected experiences.
I think I am a disappointment to all 3 of them- 22, 17, 5. I didn't check my own boxes, I've failed by their standards. I didn't climb up the corporate ladder. I don't exactly have a secure job and a steady income. After graduation, I got an unbelievable opportunity to kick off my career in Tokyo, of all places. One and a half years later, I decided it was time to move on. Truth be told, I was so, so exhausted by that point. Through nearly 4 years of living in the States, I loved learning and adapting to the American culture. Going from the American culture to the Japanese culture felt like getting hit in the face with a pan right after turning a corner. I roughly knew what to expect from learning about the Japanese culture in a liberal arts class at Berklee. But living it was an entirely different thing.
I know not every foreigner who lives in Japan feels the same way. My dear friend Winnie, who has lived in Japan for the past 6 years recently wrote this piece titled "Closing Doors". I echo similar sentiments, these paragraphs in particular:
Winnie verbalised some of these thoughts way better than I could've. Perhaps the biggest struggle I had during my time in Japan was figuring out who I was, who I wanted to be, and how much of the culture I should take and mesh into an identity I wanted to call my own.
I suppose living in Japan as an inpatriate (which I've just discovered is an actual term that describes me), versus as an expat, can make a world of difference since work can be such a big part of life in Japan. "Big" really is an understatement.
Whatever it was, it brought me to a point where I needed a break. It was time. So I spent my last 2 months in Japan just kicking back and traveling. I packed up my life, left some of it at Winnie's (she was too kind), let go of my rented room a month before my departure, and went hostel-hopping, mostly around Tokyo. I rarely made plans during that time, and I found the lack of plans exhilarating. I would book a bed at a hostel, occasionally on the day itself, and then went around exploring Tokyo. I avoided my usual route, the JR Yamanote line. Where my life had revolved around my job previously, I felt finally free to be a wide-eyed tourist. And man, did I have fun.
..That is until I discovered 3 days before my flight home that what I thought was just a cold actually developed into bronchitis at some point. As I watched the nurses hook me up to an IV drip, I thought, Oh man, I can't wait to be back with my family. At least I would have someone with me during times like this.
3 days later, I have my life with me, I'm at immigration, ready to leave for good. An officer hands me a very simple form that asks one question.
Tears start to well up in my eyes. Through my tears, I tell the officer to give me a minute to fill it out. With the form and a pen in my hand, I move aside. It hits me like a ton of bricks. I cry my heart out at the counter. Japan has long been known for limited displays of emotions, and I'd been playing by this rule for as long as I could, till that day. I am done. I'm leaving Japan for real. With a tired, broken heart, I am ugly-crying it all out. I will miss you, Japan, thank you for being part of my life, thank you.
5 minutes later, I was on my way to starting a new chapter.
----
Some photos from my last 2 months in Japan:
There have been times when I would bump into some acquaintances and they'd seem like they knew what I'd been up to, the challenges I'd faced, how I'd been feeling. They would act like they actually knew me, while that feeling wasn't reciprocated. I'd feel transparent and vulnerable, and if I'm really honest.. a bit of regret in my gut. But I'd remember all the messages I got that said they were glad they weren't the only ones feeling that way. I suppose if it helps even one person feel less lonely, or less lost, then I'm okay being a little vulnerable.
I like reflecting on my life occasionally. What would 22 year old me say? What about 17 year old me? If I met 5 year old me today, would she be proud of me? Or would I be a disappointment to her?
How much did 22, 17, 5 know about growing up? They knew about the apparent accomplishments attached to this age. They probably expected 27 year old me to have climbed up the corporate ladder, with a secure job and a steady income, possibly as a manager of some sort. With a sweet ass rented home, in a long-term relationship, maybe about to settle down.
But the great thing about growing up is that no one's path of growth is really the same. We have a vision of how we want our lives to turn out. But the exciting thing I've discovered throughout the past 3 years is that life can really bring you to different places, to different people, through unexpected experiences.
I think I am a disappointment to all 3 of them- 22, 17, 5. I didn't check my own boxes, I've failed by their standards. I didn't climb up the corporate ladder. I don't exactly have a secure job and a steady income. After graduation, I got an unbelievable opportunity to kick off my career in Tokyo, of all places. One and a half years later, I decided it was time to move on. Truth be told, I was so, so exhausted by that point. Through nearly 4 years of living in the States, I loved learning and adapting to the American culture. Going from the American culture to the Japanese culture felt like getting hit in the face with a pan right after turning a corner. I roughly knew what to expect from learning about the Japanese culture in a liberal arts class at Berklee. But living it was an entirely different thing.
I know not every foreigner who lives in Japan feels the same way. My dear friend Winnie, who has lived in Japan for the past 6 years recently wrote this piece titled "Closing Doors". I echo similar sentiments, these paragraphs in particular:
I've adopted the mild Japanese demeanour, have been able to blend in so well that I often get mistaken for Japanese until they realise my grammar and intonation is not quite right. I learned to operate a fax machine, speak in honorifics however badly. I'm hardly ever late, and am constantly self-aware of my behaviour so as not to cause nuisance to others. I even grumble when innocently unaware foreigners stand on the right side of the escalator.
In the 6 years that I've been here I have changed a lot. Being away from family and influences back home has helped me know myself better and carve a personality that is I hope, wholly my own. Spending the peak of my 20s in a culture that fascinated me and was so different from my own helped me think about how I position myself in the world, learn about other people, and expand my horizons, for lack of better expression.
These days I feel overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people in the city, always either rushing somewhere or standing in my way of rushing somewhere. I grow tired of the expectations that I feel society has for me - to be Japanese enough to understand their non-verbal communication and minor nuances, yet gaijin enough to periodically come up with some groundbreaking idea for change(that nobody will adopt anyway, because like me, Japan doesn't like change). I am resentful of the fact that people like me, people who initially come here because of our love for this place and are trying their damned hardest can be easily dismissed just because - 外国人だから。
Winnie verbalised some of these thoughts way better than I could've. Perhaps the biggest struggle I had during my time in Japan was figuring out who I was, who I wanted to be, and how much of the culture I should take and mesh into an identity I wanted to call my own.
I suppose living in Japan as an inpatriate (which I've just discovered is an actual term that describes me), versus as an expat, can make a world of difference since work can be such a big part of life in Japan. "Big" really is an understatement.
Whatever it was, it brought me to a point where I needed a break. It was time. So I spent my last 2 months in Japan just kicking back and traveling. I packed up my life, left some of it at Winnie's (she was too kind), let go of my rented room a month before my departure, and went hostel-hopping, mostly around Tokyo. I rarely made plans during that time, and I found the lack of plans exhilarating. I would book a bed at a hostel, occasionally on the day itself, and then went around exploring Tokyo. I avoided my usual route, the JR Yamanote line. Where my life had revolved around my job previously, I felt finally free to be a wide-eyed tourist. And man, did I have fun.
..That is until I discovered 3 days before my flight home that what I thought was just a cold actually developed into bronchitis at some point. As I watched the nurses hook me up to an IV drip, I thought, Oh man, I can't wait to be back with my family. At least I would have someone with me during times like this.
3 days later, I have my life with me, I'm at immigration, ready to leave for good. An officer hands me a very simple form that asks one question.
It looks something like this:
Check one only:
Yes, I intend to return to Japan
No, I do not intend to return to Japan
5 minutes later, I was on my way to starting a new chapter.
----
Some photos from my last 2 months in Japan:
The one friend I can't thank enough, Winnie:
At Tokyo Disney being kids:
Celebrating Kaz's birthday:
With Kaz in my fav cafe on my last day in Japan:
With Meghann at her fav spot:
With Eiji on my last day in Japan:
Watching Christopher Robin with the Piglet I bought at Disneyland:
Visiting this art exhibition during my hostel-hopping days,
at the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum
at the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum
Walking into a random jazz bar in Kyoto and loving these performers:
Got hungry after watching the gig, stopped by this place for some food:
"Hi. Do you sell any food?"
"Yes, fish."
"What type of-" I can't tell fish apart, even in English, so, "Ok can you make me whatever you have?"
"Here you go."
Someplace Kyoto..? Arashiyama?
Other tourists I met during hostel-hopping:
to be continued.
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