Dealing with the Reverse

Reverse culture shock doesn’t just hit you when it comes to classes, with how you dress, or how you eat. It hits all aspects of your life, from how you interact with others to simply missing the culture that became your life for an extended period of time.

I lived in Korea for a year and half. It was simply an amazing, fantastic, describable yet indescribable experience. Korea became my life. It became how I talked, how I walked, ate, slept, studied, and interacted. It dominated my way of thinking. It became my second set of lungs, bringing me vital oxygen to sustain my life.

Now, displaced, my second set of lungs is now shrinking. I am suffocating.

I go to bed early, no reason to stay up. I wake up early, there is studying to do. I eat small meals, all low in fat. Why mess up the balance in my body with something fried? Every facet of my life, I find I am comparing it with Korea. It is whirling me into a deep depression that I am struggling to swim my way out of.

On Sunday, I turned 21. Even though my mom had traveled 6 and a half hours to see me, even though my old friends slapped together a party for me, I still cried. I cried as I read messages from Korea. I cried as my Korean and International friends wished me a happy birthday. I heaved as my body ached to be back home in Seoul, surrounded by familiar sights, sounds, tastes, and talks.

I angered myself as I cried. There was no reason. I am home. I need to get used to it. But that is like telling broken toe to stop hurting.

My anger with myself fueled me to change. I cannot live in a rut. The only one who can improve the situation is me. So, I have begun to take steps to help me tackle this mountain of reverse culture shock.

Firstly, one of the things I am suffering from the most is the lack of international exposure. For a year and a half, I was rarely around Americans, and though on one hand it is great to be amongst my people again, it is a struggle because I now cannot interact with the many cultures that I once did. To tackle this hill, I have joined two clubs. The first club is the Conversation Partner Program where I help international exchange students improve their English. The second club is the Foreign Diplomats where I will assist students who are about to go abroad.

After this, finding a job to fill any free time will be of utmost importance. I’m used to being busy every second of the day. Lag time frustrates and depresses me. I will try to find a job that will expose me to international students or at the very least, some other part of Texas other than Lubbock.

I never thought I would have to deal with reverse culture shock, or at least deal with it in the way that I am. So I must take steps to rid myself of it. Small steps, yes, but steps nonetheless. 

The Stigma of Being an Orphan

I was given the chance to volunteer at the Sung Aw Won Orphanage in Busan, and was fully able to grasp the stigma that comes with being an orphan in Korea.

Like in any country, there is a slight stigma against orphans because most would be parents want children of their own blood. That mentality is more severe in Korea—here, blood-line is everything. Because of this, the adoption rates amongst Koreans is very low, and as a consequence, there are many orphans who will never find a loving home.

Many Korean orphans are not adopted by Korean nationals, but rather, are “exported,” in the words of the orphanage director. Every year, 20+ couples from outside of Korea come to visit the orphanage to visit the children and find one to give a loving home.

As we sat listening to the director, he told to please, give the children our love because they have no one else to give it to them. Hug all the children, especially “the ugly ones” who might otherwise not be given attention. Give them candy or food, the Korean way of showing you care. Play with them and teach them, for oppurtunities like this do not happen often for them.

When we were allowed to go upstairs to visit the children, there was an instant air of excitement. The first children I visited were 2-4, and filled with energy. One stole my camera and ran around with, taking picture of his friends and the orphanage. Many came up to us and asked for hugs or for us to pick them up and swing them around.

After playing with the little ones, I went upstairs to the older age group, the 5-7 year-olds. If the younger ones had been energetic, these children had enough excitement to supply Busan all the energy it needed for a year.

They instantly attachted themselves to me, grabbing my camera to take pictures of themselves and the room, and holding onto my back so that I could run them around the room. And run I did until sweat was pouring off my and the children started fanning me. But as soon as they thought I had cooled down enough, they jumped right back onto my back, and I ran all over again.

As our time came to a close, I found myself tearing up, wishing sincerely that I had a few hours more with them. As our final parting gift to them, we gave the orphanage 286,00 won or roughly $286.

To think that just a few hours with, just lending them our cameras to play, just giving them one hug, made all the difference in the world to them. We took one final picture together, and all left with wet eyes, praying for the day that we could come back.