Does Expat Frustration Ever Completely Go Away?

A couple of years ago, I coined the term "expat frustration" to refer to the millions of ways that first settling into life in a new country is stressful, confusing, and irritating.

I came up with the term when I was experiencing that frustration myself. But I assumed that once the dust settled, I wouldn't still feel that way.

Life as an Expat...Neither Here nor There

But here I am, two and a half years after moving to Calabria, and I find myself just as frustrated as I was Day 1.

Certainly, I understand the language better than I did. And spending so much time with Fra and his family has given me roots here.

But still. I recently had a situation arise where evidently, I'd misunderstood something for months. As I tried to argue what I thought I knew, I realized I was still a newbie in this Italian world.

It's a lonely place to be, uprooting yourself from the life you knew and transplanting yourself somewhere else. Sure, it's full of exciting things to discover, but at the end of the day, you neither can claim your new country as your own...nor do you totally fit in in your old country.

Only expats understand what it is to straddle two countries. It's a solitary experience. I've been in a funk for days, and I can't explain to anyone exactly why. It's just the realization that I will never fully belong anywhere.

Despite being fairly fluent in Italian, I still have moments of struggle. My confidence is down, and I feel like I'm wading through conjugating verbs and struggling over gender in a way I haven't in years.

As a writer, communication is my jam. But I feel like I'm talking underwater, and nobody understands me.

I am, you could say, frustrated.

Then There are Cultural Differences

Learning the language is one thing. Learning the culture is another.

Regarding our wedding, I'm learning that giving a shit what people think is a much bigger deal here than it was for me in the U.S. Not to say American culture is a free-for-all, but I personally do not worry too much about whether I'm offending someone I barely know by not inviting them to my wedding.

Here, my dream of an intimate wedding is getting crushed on the daily. There are aunts, uncles, and cousins to invite (first, second, and "we don't really know how we're related"). Then there are friends of Fra's parents. The friends' friends. The third cousins twice removed of the friends' friends.

If we were getting married in the U.S. I would likely only have 25 people I really cared about inviting. But here I've got to play the game so no one gets their feelings hurt.

It's exhausting.

Frustration or No, Expat Life Goes On

Thanks for letting me rant. It's something I can't easily do in Italian. (And thanks, Mom, for listening.)

I just want to let you know that life in Italy isn't always magical. Yes, it is often. But it's still just life, albeit with a bit of a language and cultural handicap.

There are still hard days. Days where I don't want to leave the house because I'll have to see someone I know and speak Italian. Days when I'm so stressed, I can't even communicate with Fra. Days when I question why I chose such a hard path.

But those days are rare, and the sun always comes out. I chose the hard path because that's the kind of person I am: one who never runs from challenges, because I know there's always a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

Get my free guide, Overcoming Expat Frustration. I hope it helps!

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