These feelings are amplified with the realities of Covid. While I might feel the urge to rush back to the US to help my friends and family in their time of need or stress, I can’t do that right now. It is not as easy as just hopping on a plane and heading over. Now we have tightened border security and quarantines to maneuver. Japan has said that they are now letting permanent residents back into the country, after 6 months of only letting citizens back unless the resident had special permission, but I am still hesitant to trust this. I know people, who know people, who got separated at immigration in the airport from their families because not everyone was a citizen. The citizens were allowed to enter, but the residents were not.
Not being able to be there physically brings a lot of guilt. I know my family and friends understand, but that doesn’t ease the burden of not being there.
While I may not be a doctor that can mend a patient, I can bring dinner and try to take some of the daily burdens off the shoulders of my loved ones as they go through this or that. Being there for people while living abroad means providing a listening ear, but not a shoulder to cry on. If people aren’t ready to talk, that can be hard.
On the flip side, I am guilty of holding a lot back because I understand that I’m not the only one going through this quandary. I don’t want to share my heartache across an ocean. But there it is, eating away at my resolve. I sometimes cry or overreact to the weirdest things simply because I don’t want to be completely transparent about what is really going on.
Recently, my dad was diagnosed with a terminal illness that will fully reveal itself within the next 2 to 5 years. I want nothing more than to jump on a plane and spend some time with him as well as help my stepmom out while she tries to figure out which way is up in the whirlwind of chaos they are currently traversing. As I try to wrap my mind around it, I pretend everything is fine all day, then fret about it all night and get very little sleep. I just want to scream “what should I do?” If I was in the US, we could all scream it together. But I’m here, not there.
While I may not be a doctor that can mend a patient, I can bring dinner and try to take some of the daily burdens off the shoulders of my loved ones as they go through this or that. Being there for people while living abroad means providing a listening ear, but not a shoulder to cry on. If people aren’t ready to talk, that can be hard.
On the flip side, I am guilty of holding a lot back because I understand that I’m not the only one going through this quandary. I don’t want to share my heartache across an ocean. But there it is, eating away at my resolve. I sometimes cry or overreact to the weirdest things simply because I don’t want to be completely transparent about what is really going on.
Recently, my dad was diagnosed with a terminal illness that will fully reveal itself within the next 2 to 5 years. I want nothing more than to jump on a plane and spend some time with him as well as help my stepmom out while she tries to figure out which way is up in the whirlwind of chaos they are currently traversing. As I try to wrap my mind around it, I pretend everything is fine all day, then fret about it all night and get very little sleep. I just want to scream “what should I do?” If I was in the US, we could all scream it together. But I’m here, not there.
These feelings are something that I had not thought about when considering moving here. Of course, if we always thought of the worst, many of us would be paralyzed, never willing to go and explore purely out of fear. And, frankly, I don't want to live my life in fear. I love trying new things and exploring new places. And none of us could have predicted a pandemic that would stop the world in its tracks.
I am lucky in the fact that I live in a time of video-calling, where I can connect with friends and family visually, as well as auditorily. It isn't the same thing as being able to hug them, hold them, and cook them food, but it is better than letter writing (of which I am a huge fan).
As I try to cope with the immense emotions I am feeling these days, I am extremely grateful to the shrines and temples that I go to for peaceful reflection. I have started walking with my husband several mornings a week to our local shrine, both for a bit of exercise and as a way to clear my head. With a four day weekend upon us (recognizing 2 national holidays - Respect for the Aged Day and Autumn Equinox), I hope to bike to some shrines and temples. It is not the same as feeling the warm embrace of a loved one, but it is helpful.
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