The Stages of Culture Shock and Grief: Similarities

Over the past few weeks I have been struggling with the idea of culture shock. No, I’ve been struggling with culture shock. Although I have moved several times within my own country – which, due to its vastness, has cultural differences of its own - and lived abroad before, I am not immune to culture shock. Culture shock is similar to the flu in that you must be inoculated, build up immunity, or you are apt to get sick. In the case of culture shock, it’s called homesickness. However, this is only one of the stages one goes through when living in another country.

In many ways, culture shock is analogous to the grief of losing a baby (or other loved one) as both create waves of emotions that one can not truly understand until after looking back on them. The stages through which a person must travel are very comparable: the honeymoon, confusion, anger and depression, negotiation, and empowerment.

I remember when I first found out that I was pregnant. I was awash with all sorts of emotion, but mostly, I was thrilled - bursting with excitement – that I had two little lives growing inside of me. The thought of twins filled me with pure joy. Okay, I was also a little nauseous, but the joys overrode the queasiness and occasional feelings of anxiety. It was much the same when I found out we would be moving to Panama. Panama enchanted me at first. Everything was new and exciting: the world seemed to open up with so many possibilities. There were so many new places to see. I drove around without a care. I didn’t care if I got lost because there was always something new to encounter. Others complained about the traffic. I didn’t even notice it. Other expats and “transplants” complained about the people. As far as I could see, everyone around me was smiling. Maybe that was because I was smiling, too. And, of course, there was the ocean view from our apartment. I didn’t care that I didn’t have my own furniture yet. I had an ocean view. Yes, it was definitely a honeymoon period in both cases, pure joy.

But, after the honeymoon, there is a return to reality. During the second month of pregnancy, one twin gave up, but we were still blessed with the other, who grew steadily and kicked vigorously…especially between the hours of 11 p.m. and 3 a.m. Blessed? Really? I had lost one of the little lives inside of me. Confusion set in. Questions surfaced. Why was this happening to me? What had I done wrong? I became tired from the lack of sleep.. I just became plain tired. Much in this same way, within the first few months in Panama, I started to realize that it wasn’t the paradise that I thought it was. Why did a simple chore like going to the bank have to be so difficult? Why didn’t people show up on time or at all for appointments? Why was it so hard to get someone to understand me, and why couldn't I understand them even though I had some knowledge of Spanish? Why did I feel like a fish out of water if I breathed air like all other humans. Was I really that different? Both situations were distressing.

Nearing my 6th month of pregnancy, I started showing signs of preeclampsia and found myself in the hospital in a life or death situation. The only “cure” for my disease was to give birth. To give birth would endanger my baby’s life, but not giving birth would kill both of us. Some choice, huh? My body was rejecting my baby. My body was betraying me. It didn’t matter how well I had been taking care of myself. I ate well, rested when I could, stopped all those bad little habits, and followed the doctor’s orders to a T. Despite all of that, I lost my baby boy. I was overwhelmed by sadness. I was angry with myself. I felt helpless for not being able to prevent my own son’s death. Because of the disease and slow recovery, I also had very little energy. Net, I was depressed even if I didn’t want to admit it. Now, here I am in my 8th month living in Panama, sure enough, feelings of anger and despair have reared their ugly heads. I’m trying to do everything I can to create a new home for my husband and myself. Just like in my pregnancy, I think I am doing everything right, but I still encounter failure, brick walls. I have started to develop new friendships. I go out. I integrate. I have found activities to occupy my time. Yet, I still feel lost, overwhelmed. I really just want to stay inside. The traffic bothers me. I wish people here would smile more. I wish it wasn’t so freaking hot. Like anyone has control over the weather, right? There is a part of me that wants to detach myself from everything that is Panama. In a nutshell, I am rejecting the culture. I want things from home, everything from home – my family, my friends, the language, the order, the food, the air – everything.

The truth is, I feel like I am losing myself. However, losing part of oneself when it means gaining new understanding about who one can become really isn’t all that bad. Knowing that these brick walls are meant to teach me new lessons helps keep things in perspective. I may not fully understand life in Panama yet, just like I didn’t understand why I had to lose my babies, but one learns there is always a lesson. This is negotiation, stage 4 in both culture shock and grieving. One struggles to find meaning in everything that has happened. In the case of culture, differences and similarities are accepted. In the case of death, there is the search for a message to help push forward.

After having lost a child, returning to a “normal” life is never easy. But, eventually, one crawls out of the darkness and explores new options. New plans begin to form. In one respect, new life begins to form. In my case, the new plan involved moving to Panama. I moved on figuratively and literally. I have yet to arrive to the stage of acceptance and empowerment in my rollercoaster ride through culture shock. But, the nice thing is that I know there will come a day when living in Panama will feel “normal” and all those wonderfully positive feelings I had about this country when I first arrived will fill me again. Because, truth be told, it is a wonderful country.