For the next two days, I will be talking about one of the many difficulties in the repatriate process.
Being in your home country during a cultural celebration in your host country.
For me, the most difficult cultural celebration occurred yesterday, St. Patrick’s Day. My heart yearned to be no where on earth except in Dublin with my best friends. However, as the day wore on yesterday, some things happened that caused me to view my time at home differently. So, over the next two days, I will be discussing those emotions.
First up, The struggle of being in America on St. Patrick’s Day after having lived in Ireland for one year.
I could drag on for an hour about how bad I wanted to be in Ireland yesterday. All of you who know me personally know how often I compare everything to life in Dublin and how the chocolate isn’t quite right here and how the rainy weather here doesn’t bother me anymore because it rains in Ireland everyday. Blah Blah blahhhhhhh.
So you get it. I miss Ireland.
St. Patrick’s day is different though.
That’s the day where I was supposed to be drinking Bulmer’s and Jameson. I needed to be wading through the throngs of people with my friends. I wished for the icy wind and rain.
Yesterday morning I woke up knowing what day it was. I laid in bed for a moment to gather my thoughts and emotions. I didn’t want to get out of bed. SnapChat was already loaded with stories from my friends in Ireland. Facebook status were posted about the parade.
But I was in Georgia, USA.
St. Patrick’s Day was not going to be the same in America.
I’ll admit it. I may be a kind of Ireland snob now, but that’s because I actually lived there.
I know countless people who claim to be Irish-American or love the Irish culture or think that Guinness is the best drink ever invented, but they don’t actually know Ireland.
I know Ireland.
St. Patrick’s Day is special to me because Ireland was, is, and always will be home. No, I don’t live there at present, but I spent 365 hard days in that country. I learned to speak like the locals. I grew to love and loathe the rain. I rode the Luas and the Dart. I smelt the smells and heard the sounds. I fell in love with Ireland.
Half the time I have to remind myself that I actually have almost zero Irish ancestry. But you wanna know something? I feel more Irish than most people in America.
Ireland is my home.
So yesterday was really difficult.
St. Patrick’s Day isn’t a day for me to go out and have an excuse to get drunk (even though I did). It is a day for me to celebrate and remember the country I fell so madly in love with. It’s a day where I can share memories with my friends who still live in Ireland and or around the globe. It’s a day where I can be proud of my accomplishment to just flat move to Ireland.
It’s a day to celebrate Ireland.
I was incredibly upset because I wasn’t in Ireland to celebrate like I wanted. Instead, I had to go to work.
But then something happened.
Tune in tomorrow to know what changed!!