Leaving a Life Lived Abroad | The Emotional Toll of Repatriation

What does it feel like to walk away from a life lived abroad? Simply put? A lot. Today marks 18 months since we boarded a plane back to the US. After seven years of living as a Scandinavian – Oregon is seeping back in, getting under my skin. I’m embracing the spaces, places, and people we missed. I won’t sugarcoat it, there have been overwhelming moments, days, and maybe whole months of deep grief. Someone remind me next winter that this time of year is just as difficult here as it was in Denmark. I don’t believe in ignoring those hard feelings and I let them wash in. Safe in my experience that those tides (eventually) roll back out.

I’ll admit, I thought I’d be further along by now. Still, I’m squarely in the middle of processing my move “home.” But Copenhagen was home too. For seven years. So from the beginning, the emotions are complicated and twisty. Let’s get into it. But first, let’s start with the definition of repatriation.

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Questions not to ask an expat but you will anyway

What Not to Ask an Expat

BUT YOU PROBABLY WILL ANYWAY

Did you move around the world?

This list is for you. This list is also for those who know someone who moved around the world. You may not know these questions, but we do. We hear them ALL THE TIME. Ok, ok. Maybe a little dramatic. But not really an exaggeration.

These are truly the most commonly asked questions that you will constantly be asked after moving abroad. For as long as you are abroad. There is no statute of limitations for the consistency of these questions. Unless you choose to stop meeting new people altogether. And what fun is that? The more the merrier I say. You never know what spark might be alit until meeting that new person. But I warn you. Before that fire can be sparked, you will have to run the gauntlet of the following questions. It’s a ritual. A never-ending expatriate* ritual.

TOP THREE QUESTIONS YOU ASK A NEW PERSON YOU MEET IN COPENHAGEN:

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Open letter to my newly expatriated self

So You’re Moving Around the World?

Hello you doe-eyed, adventurous, naive, cute little baby expat you. Hi – how are you? Here in Denmark – we say “hej!” It sounds like Hi. Don’t worry – you’ve got that one in the bag. No accent required. Have you moved yet? No? Ok. So – you are still super excited, anxious, about ready to pop, explode inside and get this ball rolling. About as ready as you were to have your first child at 39 weeks pregnant. People just need to stop telling you how much easier it is when the baby is on the inside and how much sleep you won’t be getting. All you want is to meet this little creature kicking and prodding you and keeping you awake at night. Get out already. That is what it feels like right now before the big move abroad. I get it. You want to start the starting. Move already.

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Being Human

Writing a blog about an expatriated family – our growing pains and exploits in a new local and as we travel is a fun, cathartic way to explore oneself while sharing our adventures. But when the world goes and throws crazy at you in every iteration – like organized terrorist attacks in the City of Lights; Stateside school shootings in your “from” and now NOT your from; bombs in Middle Eastern cities; or refugee babies dying on beaches next to their families trying to escape an unspeakable horrific only to encounter more horrific and unwelcome. It makes me stop. It cramps my fingers. I can’t write. It cramps my heart. It makes me sick. It wakes me up at night. I have to breathe through it all to survive.

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Bellevue Beach | A Beautiful Day Out North of Copenhagen

You can’t beat the brilliant blue Baltic Sea here at Bellevue Beach
Soak in the scene on this swath of sand in Klampenborg

Today I took the long way round after dropping my youngest at school, the older two having already made it on their own for their early starts. Not having finished my morning coffee when the wee lass wanted off to catch her friends before the bell rung, I put it in a flask to take along. (No, not an alcoholic flask. Flask = thermos; my UK friends might be rubbing off, can you tell?) Repositing the lass with friends at school, I kiss goodbye and head off on my bike. I make my way via the neighborhoods that skirt Copenhagen’s northeastern suburbia to my destination – Bellevue Beach on the water in Klampenborg. You can also get here easily by train, but it is unbelievably beautiful weather this week and it feels good to be out of the rain. (Forgive me – my son is learning how to play America on his guitar and it just seeps in.)

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