familiar but unexpected

I'm nearly finished packing for Japan right now, and part of me is distressed about it.

The last time I left the country, I was heading into the unknown. Not just geographically, but emotionally. I didn't yet know how the culture shock would feel, or how acutely I'd miss my family and the familiarity of the States. This time, I know exactly what I'm walking into, and even though I'm finally making my dream a reality... part of me is just ridiculously sad. Because I know it may be six months before I get to hug any of my family or friends again, and knowing that... it hurts. Last time I left the country, I didn't think about that. Now, sometimes, it's all I can feel.

Moving to Japan is literally an endeavor that has been two years in the making. I got my TEFL certification in March 2012, and now finally I'm moving to Japan in March 2014. The money I used to get to Taiwan I'd been saving for months, and the whole time I was in Taiwan I saved every kuai I could, because I knew I'd need it in a year to move to Japan. And I will. It's been worth it, but it has taken so much work, so much planning, so much saving, and so much giving up.

Because that's the one thing I've realized while pursuing this world-travelling dream: to do it, you have to give up a lot of other things. Since I landed back in the States in July 2013, I've not had a car, nor health insurance. I didn't search for local full-time jobs because I was applying for ones in Japan. I've foregone cons and trips and indulgent purchases for a year because I knew I'd need the money once I got a job and had to start shelling it out for the move. (Thank goodness I finally had the sense to get a part-time job in December or I'd have fewer savings than I do now.) I've essentially had my life on hold for almost a year, all in the name of getting what I wanted. And even now that I'm going to Japan, I'm going to give up more than ever.

I'm going to miss my niece's 7th birthday, and my other niece's 5th birthday. I'm going to miss Thanksgiving with my family. I may miss Christmas, too. I won't be here for Easter again, nor the 4th of July. I'll be able to Skype friends and family, but I won't be able to hang out with them, or hug them. I won't be able to pet my dogs, and believe me, you don't realize how used to fuzz therapy you are until you're stressed and can't hug a warm, furry dog that loves you.

I'm going to endure at least another three months of culture-shock frustration; the mental overload of too much not-English, of re-adjusting my understanding of social cues. I'm going to have to re-learn how to drive. Until I learn Japanese competently, I'm going to go from being an independent, functioning adult to an illiterate outsider who may need someone's help to go to the doctor.

You get used to it, of course. You adjust. And I will. And I'll love Japan. The first time I see Tokyo lit up at night will be one of the greatest moments of my life.

But I'm going to miss everyone. I'm going to miss home. And right now, at midnight, with my packed bags at my feet and only seven hours left in America, it's all I can think about, and it'll be a good thing when I finally get to Japan, because then I can stop anticipating how hard the hard times will be and start working on having good times that'll get me through it.