I don't know if you guys have ever heard of it but today, I'm going to talk about the reverse culture shock or as other people put it, the post-Erasmus depression.
Nothing could have prepared me to that and I don't think anyone can truly understand that post-Erasmus depression or reverse culture shock unless you really lived it.
You know how everyone tells you how great it is to leave your country and discover a new culture, speak another language and create bonds so strong with other people that you can call them family ? Well, all this shizzle is true and way beyond your wildest expectations. Except that no-freaking-one talked about the downfall.
So, I'm going to pour my heart out, which is not really interesting, so if you want to skip this part, you are welcome to do so... XD
Wwriight, the reverse culture shock. It's like a stage of sadness or melancholy that you go through after having lived a year abroad. A stage that can sometimes lead you straight to depression.
An italian student, Fiorella De Nicola, made a brilliant study (that I couldn't read because it was in italian... But the translated extract I read were great) about the aftermath of an erasmus student. Everything in your homecountry looks a bit dull, less colorful and vivid; teli seems boring, friends lame, family annoying and so on. I mean you don't necessarily think that your friends are lousy and that your hometown sucks (trust me, it's coming from a Parisian who loves Paris).
But being back is different. Everything stayed the same when you have changed. It's like a new person trying to fit in the same ole' world where you don't belong to anymore.
Alright, I admit it, I'm being a bit of a drama queen and possibly an emo bitch. But it's bitching time in my country right now. Why ? Because I feel like it xP
You can still skip 'til the end of the article if you don't want to hear me complaining for another 10 hours and therefore loose 10 hours of your life that you will never get back.
Back to my life... I've finished my Erasmus for two months now and I can't stop thinking about it. About how awesome and great it was. Not because of how hard I partied but because of how un-freaking-believable my everyday life was : How I spoke english everyday in my flat, how nice people were, how easy life was really. Maybe I miss that life because it was easy. But who said that life should be tough and hard ? Why would you not seek that sensation of being free and special again ? Because someone said that you have to make your life miserable in order to know it well ? Well I say fuck to that. I found my way of dealing with it.
I'm going to work my ass off next year so that I can leave again and live another awesome year all over again. That's my f***ing way of learning life.
This is definitely not a message of despondency, but one of hope.
The day is still young, and as James Dean would say : Let's dream as we'll live forever and let's live as we'll die today. Let's do it, people. Life's too short for us to waste it because others can't understand us. Please live your life as you see fit if you can.
PS : Just in case... I hope that I haven't offended anyone and please do note that I'm grateful for all I have lived.
source : http://www.cafebabel.co.uk/article/22806/post-erasmus-syndrome-sos-distress.html
Let's move onto what's really interesting... Here is the new chapter, enjoy~