When I first decided to leave, I’m not sure what I had in mind. Probably something like: “Japan. Sure! Can’t be THAT different from what I know!”
Ah, naivety. How I miss you.
Now, there’s no need to fool myself. I go into a new country thinking “Well. This’ll be fun.”(That’s heavy sarcasm, by the way. If you can’t tell.) But it is fun, surprisingly. Chaotic, messy, somehow-ending-up-ok fun.
For example, when I lost my phone in the bus on Christmas Eve, and I sobbed in despair to my friend (sure that my life was over, doom, despair, death, and all that fun stuff): she told me to suck it up, and then helped me find someone to call the bus company, since my Japanese was nonexistent at the time.
Or when my other friend dropped his bus pass on the floor of a bus in South Korea, and watched in abject horror as the bus driver closed the door on us, separating us from our only friend who actually spoke Korean. It took me saying “Chill! Just chill out!” about fifteen times, as I desperately memorized how many turns we were taking, for him to calm down. We did have to walk about ten city blocks (too scared to attempt taking the bus again), but we made our way back in the end. Our friend was both highly amused, and highly relieved to see us return unscathed.
My adventures are not just on buses, of course, but they all have had to do with culture and language difference. I’ve never been more thrilled, nor more terrified, as I have been while living in another country. Everything I once knew went completely out the window (sometimes literally). I had to completely readjust my perspective in order to fully understand where I was living. Honestly, as soon as the plane landed and I saw kanji written on the side of a building’s billboard, I knew I had just done something absolutely insane: I moved to a country, alone, knowing about two words in that language (‘ohaiyo gozaimasu’ and ‘arigato’).
It wasn’t, however, a mistake. People have often asked me, “Why Japan? Why would you leave what you do know for the absolute unknown?” I don’t really have an answer, actually. But when I looked outside my window, I saw a world that I would have been scared of before, now completely familiar. And I wouldn’t trade it back for the world I was comfortable with, not for anything it had to offer. It’s not as though I have everything figured out, only that I decided not to give up before I even started.
So I’m going to challenge you all: don’t hesitate or give up, but go out of your comfort zone and change the way you see the world.
It is by no means a simple thing to do, and it is always terrifying. At the tail end of it all, however, you may find yourself braver than when you started the journey. It’s okay if there is nothing really to show from all those times where you were filled with sheer panic due to being asked a question in a language you don’t understand (doesn’t have to be a foreign language. A lot of times our native languages might as well be a foreign language). Sometimes it feels as though the world wants us to prove to everyone that we did something worthwhile, that we made something of ourselves (who is everyone, anyway? How many people can really understand the scope of each person’s individual story?). It’s okay if you walk away from a part of your life and the only thing you built was grit and determination. It may not matter to the world, but all those moments in your story matter to you.
Plunge into the unknown, don’t hesitate any longer. If you fail, you can always come back (but you should make good choices… don’t do stupid. But even if you do stupid, the world doesn’t end. Life goes on, as they say.). Failure is not actually a negative thing.
Gasp! What?!? But I thought F’s were the worst thing that can happen to you??
Nope.
Actually, failure is like good soil. Did you know there are different layers in soil? Depending on the chemical balance and the type of soil, only certain kinds of plants can grow there.
Not all plants can grow in certain kinds of soil, and none of the plants that can grow there look the same, but despite that, they all… bloom. Those layers in the soil end up creating an environment that particular plants can grow in, and they can only grow there after all those layers stack up on top of each other. Transplanting when the soil or the plant hasn’t been able to develop may lead to it withering. You should never do that to yourself. Be prepared to stack layers of failure in your life to prepare for the rich successes: it’s more fulfilling that way, anyway.
(Can you tell I was good in Agriculture class? The only award I ever got in high school was 2nd place in a soil judging competition, and it was by accident. I didn’t even know there were awards for that….).
Failure is like that: in order to have the good top soil, you gotta have the rocks and sand at the bottom. Making and maintaining your foundation in life is never easy, but you have to have it in order to grow.
So I stepped into the unknown, and I’m a better person for it. It was definitely NOT all sunshine and roses, but it was beautiful, in its own messy way. The unknown is scary, but beautiful. Failure is terrifying, but necessary. I hope you keep that in mind when you face your own choices. It may not all be smooth sailing, but it will be a layer in your life you cannot replace with any other opportunity.
Don’t hesitate, and dive in.
Welcome to “Just Look for the Blonde.”
Just Look for the Blonde 