- Jul 1, 2021
It was 2015 and I was feelin’...at home. The rhythms and waves of Guam suited me, they had become a part of me. From beachy hair and kisses on the cheek, to celebrating at fiestas and sheltering during storms with precious friends, it was like no other place I'd ever lived. And yet, as with other places I've lived, this feeling of comfort and confidence came right before we were to transition again.
A few months later we moved to South Carolina, and I watched my husband struggle with culture shock as I tried to encourage him but eventually just sat back and thought, “Yup." He'd lived on the island twelve years; this transition was somewhat akin to hurdling in track and field. Jumping over one barrier after another, wondering if you will ever find your stride--some moves are straight up hard.
What about you? Have you ever felt out of place where you live?
Sometimes a place doesn’t even have to be new to feel uncertain to us—foreign, with the power to disembody, to make you question who you are outside of the places where you once felt more yourself, and therefore more at home.
One day I’ll show you pictures of wide-eyed 2011 me, teaching students from cultures I didn’t know, picking up random illnesses, struggling with disordered eating, and wondering what the heck I’d gotten myself into. And yet, I knew that this amazingly diverse, welcoming, and *hot* island was where I was meant to be.
I learned it was a precious place whether or not I had ever met its shores. It was a place of awakening, growing into adulthood, and eventually meeting the one whom my soul loves.
But there was flailing— there was proverbial arm flapping of the most unflattering kind and lots of complaining and messing up but trying to do better next time. There was a lot of me trying to stay afloat, learning to swim, learning to love it, that beautiful, tiny island.
And you know what? I did.
Wendell Berry wrote, “Nobody can discover the world for somebody else. Only when we discover it for ourselves does it become common ground and a common bond and we cease to be alone.”
The more I respected Guam—its heritage, its people, and even its frustration toward haoles like me, the more I made friends who felt like family, and that blast of humidity meeting me at the airport exit doors? It felt like home.
I taught my students and they taught me. I picked out paint (some for our studio, some to cover graffiti at the bus stops in our village), did laundry outside, talked through misunderstandings, looked for every bit of beauty around me. The more I worked and learned and listened, the deeper my roots could take hold and the stronger I could stand.
Some places will feel like home more than others or more quickly than others, but no one can appreciate a place for you--no one else can do the hard work of meeting people and dealing with all the logistics of uprooting your life. But you can.
I can't promise you'll feel at home if you do x, y, or z, but I can promise your experience will be much richer if you put in the effort to both give and receive. It will be tiring and messy at times, but it will be worth it.
Love,
Audrey Ann
Growing up in Slovakia from age 9-18, I can remember looking for Christmas presents for my siblings each year and my dad encouraging us younger siblings to get or go in together to get Slovak pottery for our older sisters as they would have less time in Slovakia before leaving for college one day. For a number of years, that was my focus—finding traditional and beautiful Slovak gifts they’d be able to take with them one day, wherever in the world they ended up.
Fast forward to when I moved to the US for college and I realized just how few things from Slovakia I had to bring with me for my home one day. When Andrew and I got married, our budget was incredibly tight and nice things for our home were dependent on gifts from friends and things we found from our local thrift store. One day, we said—one day we’d put some money aside to support a pottery shop in Slovakia that I grew up visiting, and we’d get a few pieces of that part of my home and life to bring into our joint home with our family here in the US. One day.
Years passed and a friend from Austria passed on some of her Slovak pieces to me and I split those between myself and my younger sister. My pieces were immediately split into decorative ones and daily use ones, and every time I saw one of my kids carefully using a Modra pottery piece or asking about my memories in Slovakia while we’d sit together enjoying the pottery pieces, it warmed my heart.
And then we were moving states and buying our first house and with knowing a trip back to Slovakia isn’t going to be able to happen again for a few years, I asked Andrew what would he think if maybe, possibly, we pulled some of the money we’d set aside for the practical parts of setting up the house and got a few things from that pottery shop as a housewarming gift to our family to christen our new house? My heart’s country brought to our new home in his home state.
And today, weeks after ordering, everything arrived in perfect condition. The kids can’t wait to use their new tea cups, and I’ve been beaming all day, so thrilled to unpack a bit of my heart and tuck it into our new Tennessee home.
A big thanks to Slovenská ľudová majolika MODRA for working with me to figure out the logistics of getting pottery shipped to the US as safely and inexpensively as possible, and to each of the talented artists who created, painted, and fired the pottery. These are pieces we’ll cherish—for the beauty of the pieces, for the function they serve, for the country they represent, for the talent they showcase, for the home they help build.
Read more from Melanie and her family's adventures at thosegogganses.com
- May 22, 2021
Moving is an adrenaline-rushing, heart-pumping race against deadlines usually set by someone else. There’s (hopefully) some excitement about the new location, followed by a seemingly endless list of logistics, all the goodbyes, and then the actual move.
I’ve moved across oceans multiple times, and I’ve moved to a nearby town multiple times. In every move, there is a honeymoon phase. It’s like, “Oh wow, this is new! Everyone stay pumped! Eyebrows up, smiles on, and pom-poms in hand! Clean the bathrooms, update the address, explain to the little one there is no (insert a favorite thing) here.
Everything is an adventure. Everything feels new. Your senses are in overdrive from experiencing all the newness.
Inevitably, as with all honeymoons, it doesn't last forever—it’s not supposed to last forever. When the let-down sets in, when the new location is more of a reminder of what and whom you miss than an exciting diversion, that's when the beauty of settling in begins. When you move a lot or make a big move, seasons of your life stand out to you quite a bit. You mark time based on what house, what location, which church. When you say hello to something new, you're saying goodbye to the old. There may be a bit of mourning, and that's okay. If this happens, try one of the following:
Get Outside—whether it’s a walk around your neighborhood, exploring a new-to-you park, or sitting in your backyard, being outside helps. If you have the energy, try a light jog or an exercise that gets you a little bit sweaty. It's good for your body and your mind!
Watch a relaxing show—maybe put some limits on your consumption--not that I’m speaking from experience here --ahem, I am. I’ve enjoyed happy shows like The Middle, The Waltons, Gilmore Girls, and Downton Abbey. There is something about shows that center on family and place that has been helpful to me.
Take a hot bath. Use magnesium/Epsom salt and light a lavender candle. Let yourself sit with your feelings or read an encouraging magazine like The Magnolia Journal—I also like Red for fun, British fashion. And since your body is detoxing, drink that water. ;)
Call or email someone who has made a similar move and would empathize with your fatigue and sadness.
Find a place you love and keep going there--even while exploring and venturing to new areas/establishments. It's so fun and steadying to have a place that's "your place."
Read a book that touches your soul. For me this meant reading a few easy-reading books along with the Bible. When we first moved here, I read a book around Christmas time that was the equivalent to a Hallmark movie, and that's what I needed! Now that we're more established, I can dig deeper into stout literature. *So many* things are challenging when you move, so being particular with what you read/consume on media is important. If I could go back, I wouldn't read the crazy news so obsessively.
Be gentle with yourself and your family. Moving is *hard* but you're making memories and having experiences that are unique and worth the effort.
I’d love to hear what has been helpful to you when coming out of the honeymoon phase of moving! Comment below and tell me about it. <3
*Photo credit: Paige Overturf Photography
**I am not a doctor--all advice is simply what has helped me and is not meant to take the place of a medical professional
