The Price We Pay to Live This Way

The Price We Pay to Live this Way

I’m sitting in a workshop at Columbia University’s Teachers College when my partner asks, “So what do you think about international teaching?” Without a beat or breath I reply, “Best decision I’ve ever made.”

And in so many ways, that statement is true.  

There is little chance I would be sitting here today, without having made that choice. My former district would have never allowed me to become a language arts teacher without having proper credentials first. They would not have had the monetary funds to support my professional learning to have made that happen or to help me hone my teaching craft by sending me to Columbia. 

Had I not made the decision to go overseas, I would never have had some of the most amazing experiences of my life. I would not know the smell of the incense burning in Man Po Temple in Hong Kong. I wouldn’t know the fiery delight of a real Thai green curry or the surprise gush of heavenly broth when eating xiao long bao. I wouldn’t understand the intense green of a Balinese rice field after a tropical downpour or the simple respect shown by a Japanese bow. I would never have taken the risk to hike up a Balinese volcano, climb a cliff over the Andaman Sea or dive among Morey eels in the Philippines. 

My life is so rich, but there is a cost for this wealth. 

As Miriam Adeney says, “You will never completely be at home again, because part of your heart will always be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place.” The expat community is in constant flux. People come into one another’s social spheres, create deep and important friendships and then… they leave. Moving on to new jobs, experiences or adventures.

In the international community, we say things like, “It’s not good-bye, it’s see you later” and “It’s a small world.” Pithy quotations like these help in the moment. I have said them, and I truly believed them. And while it’s true, ‘It’s a small world,’ it is likely I will never cross paths with many of my good friends again. I won’t be able to call them and gather the gang together for a beer for old times’ sake. Knowing this kills just a bit of my soul. 

This time, I am leaving people behind. But I have been left behind as well. I have cheered dear friends on as they searched for new places to work and celebrated when they finally found their new home. And though I myself wasn’t embarking on a new adventure, I helped them research the new country or school. I hugged them and toasted them and wished them, “All the best!” and “It’ll be great!”  And of course I heartily echoed through tearful sobs, “Yes, we’ll see each other soon.”

And then they left. And I was left behind. And God, did it hurt. 

So I have been left behind and I have had to do the leaving. I have had to leave in the summer. I have had to leave at Christmas. I’ve even had to leave at Spring Break. I have left from China, Kansas, Colorado and Texas. I have experienced all manner of good-byes, from the rushed- squeeze- hug- run away good-bye, to the tearful- sobbing- can’t tear me away farewell saga. I’ve gotten really good at good-byes. Just because I'm good at it, doesn’t make it any easier. It rubs me raw each time and each time my calluses get a bit thicker. Not sure if that’s a good thing. 

In four years, I have changed immensely, but so has everyone else. Including some of the people who are dearest to me. Because I chose to live overseas, I bear the consequences of missing some amazing events in my friends’ and family’s lives. I have missed: two weddings, four children, a surgery, a death, an engagement and countless “small moments” that I can never recreate. I have missed out on being there for others when I should have been. I have miss out having my dearest around when I needed them most. Skype and FaceTime can’t hug you and hold you until you stop crying. 

So the real question I am trying, struggling to answer is, “Is it worth it?” While my life is enriched with amazing experiences, am I willing to pay the price of loss, over and over again? Will the balance sheet of my heart read red or black?