the winter here's cold, and bitter
it's chilled us to the bone
we haven't see the sun for weeks
to long too far from home
I feel just like I'm sinking
and I claw for solid ground
I'm pulled down by the undertow
I never thought I could feel so low
oh darkness I feel like letting go
if all of the strength and all of the courage
come and lift me from this place...
-- Sarah McLachlan
I have always hated cold weather. For me the formula cold+wet+freezing=miserable. Friends of mine who had lived in Iwate before warned me about the winter here, so I had a few reservations, but by November and even into December things didn't look too bad. I'd set up my kerosene heater (which heats approximately... One room) and kotatsu, and although I could see my breath while laying on my futon in the morning, I felt as though I was keeping my spirits up and dealing with it pretty well. Even when I returned from New Years in Tokyo and had to dig through about two feet of snow to get to my apartment door only to find my pipes were frozen (despite the fact that I had drained them prier to my departure) and toilet couldn't flush, I was still okay.
All the books, all the program directors, all the previous ALTs said it would happen; that I would get homesick and start to dislike my life here. I didn't pay a lot of attention, partly because I was afraid that their warnings would manifest if I thought about them too much, and partly because, well, I don't always like to pay attention. Besides, I was keeping my chin up, and could deal with freezing pipes and shoveling snow, so no worries, right? But then it all hit at once: In mid-January solitude turned to loneliness, I got very homesick, my boyfriend back in the U.S. broke up with me, it was COLD, I began to feel as though my job was not relevant to anything or anyone so my work was all in vain, the snow wasn't pretty anymore (I was clearing a good five inches of it off my car daily), my toilet still couldn't flush (as a matter of fact, it wouldn't be able to until late February due to some part having to be ordered from Madagascar or something like that... I'm joking, I don't know why ordering the part took so long). All in all, January turned into a miserable month for me. I found myself daydreaming of returning to the U.S. a year early, crying a lot, and beginning to hate all things Japanese.
Then came my least favorite month, February. By this time I had realized that it would be a necessity for me to get out more, to attempt to see people more, and to stop listening to Johnny Cash. So I did. I started snowboarding, I made a few more attempts to get out of Iwate-machi and see other foreigners, I told myself that it was okay to return early, if that's what I needed to do -- that it wasn't "giving up." I just made a promise to myself that I wouldn't make any final decisions until April, by which time the snow should be gone. Although this was the overlaying promise to myself, there were other, smaller promises that would change alone with my moods, roughly every 3.2 seconds. I'm staying, I can do it, it'll get better and I'll really feel as though I lived here for a while, rather than a year long vacation... I have to go as soon as possible. I cannot do this, they do not understand me, this is impossible... It'll all be fine and I'll be pleased with myself for staying the full two years... I have to call people and tell them I am coming home... I think I can, I think I can... Must Return Home... But little by little I started feeling better (Well, except for the beatings I gave myself on the snowboard, that is). Small flashes of happiness would catch me off guard -- a clear day on which I could see Mount Iwate, Friday nights when The West Wing would come on, finding Diet Pepsi at the local convenience store, receiving amazing letters full of love and support from friends, and having a entire class of first grade kids try to say good morning to me on their way to school. For a while I tried to brush off these highlight moments, telling myself instead that I was depressed and therefore could not be happy... But eventually I gave in and began to appreciate the little things as they accumulated and by the beginning of March (when everything was still covered with snow) I knew that I would be able to stick it out for another 17 months.
From what I know of living in foreign countries and the process of adjustment, this experience of homesickness and frustration can be expected. I think that for me, admitting to the fact that it may be better for me to return home half way through my time here was a big step -- since I had first accepted the job here my attitude has been a positive "Go Get 'Em" kind of superwoman attitude which I needed to let go of for a while (Although I'm still superwoman, and don't you forget it.) Letting go of the idea that I could push through everything was also probably a good way to evaluate my time here, and put some extra thought into why I came and what I want to learn from the experience of being here. I would not go as far as to say that I am never homesick now, or that there aren't times when I doubt whether or not I should be here. I do get homesick, and I do doubt my decision to stay sometimes, but in the end I have learned that homesickness and uncertainty are also a part of the package of living abroad.
