Uncensored

Part 5

"I hate small talk. I want talk about atoms, death, aliens, sex, magic, intellect, the meaning of life, faraway galaxies, the lies you've told, your flaws, your favorite scents, your childhood, what keeps you up at night, your insecurity and fears... I like people with depth, who speak with emotion from a twisted mind. I don't want to know "what's up." "

Whenever people asked me if I was homesick I said "No," because I wasn't. My first years in the U.S. where an emotional high- I fell in love and I was happy, so there was no room for homesickness.

But being married to an Army soldier means, among other things, frequent moves. So after I had completed a year of school, the Army moved us from Northern Virginia to North Carolina. There had been a couple of options on the table where we would possibly move to - but Fort Bragg wasn't one of them. So when I was told we'd move there, I felt betrayed. What the hell was Fort Bragg?

I didn't give Fayetteville a fair chance. In retrospect, I know I could have made much more of the whole experience. But it was my first move, the first time I lost the friends I had so painstakingly made, the first time I had to rebuild. We didn't stay long in North Carolina, only 18 months, until it was time for another move. This time we ended up at Fort Lost-In-The-Woods, Missouri. Missouri was nicer on the eye, but there was even less- less of everything. Our town had a population of less than 4000 people. A Walmart was all there was. There wasn't much to do other than hunting. St. Louis and Springfield were options, but everything notable was a 90-120min drive away. I drove to school 30min each way, but I got used to it.

I never thought that I grew up in a "big" city. Berlin, Cologne, and Düsseldorf had always been "big" cities to me, but not the town of 300,000 people where I was from. But when we moved to Missouri, I realized what small was. And that I didn't like it.
That's not to say I don't love nature, which I do. I always have. But I also need something - to do, places to go, things to look at, places to shop, drink coffee, and hang out at. A town with one Walmart was not enough for me.

The longer I stayed in the U.S., the lonelier I became. It was an insidious process, so slow that it was barely noticeable at first. My problem was that I wasn't good at making friends. All of my friends would probably not believe me, because I'm an open, communicative person. Sure, I can make small talk with peers, fellow students, and co-workers. But a friend to me is someone you trust and feel comfortable around and someone you have deep conversations with. And I didn't have that. At first I told myself that I didn't want to replace the friends I had left behind in Germany. In my free time, I tried to stay in touch with them, my family, and spend time with my husband. I was a straight-A student, and since I didn't work, I took my responsibilities as a student very seriously. Higher education in the U.S. is ridiculously expensive, so I wanted to make sure that I got my money's worth and that I did the best job I possibly could. So all in all, I was pretty busy with school, house work, and the loved one's in my life- be it that most were far away.

Let me tell you what happens to your friends when you move away and don't come back. It's pretty simple: you lose a lot of them. And the one's you don't lose, you still lose. My friends and I still try to stay in touch. When I'm visiting home, everything is the way it always used to be, we pick up right where we left off, there is no awkwardness, there is no distance. But when you're so far away from one another, the times you speak to each other become longer and longer apart, messages become vague, and you start missing all the things that happen to the other person. Every couple months you'll give each other a "report" of what has happened, but the news is already old, all the witty details are missing, and it's almost obligatory sometimes. Of course it's different with different people, and with some it's easier than with others.

With this, as with everything, change is slow and imperceptible until it's already too late. Years go by until you realize that you're alone. The time difference, of course, was a big problem. When I relaxed before or after dinner, it was already night time in Germany and (working) people were asleep. When they were relaxed and had time at the end of their day, I was still busy running errands. I have a friend who liked to ask me about my marriage like it was an exotic animal she wanted to study and dissect. She didn't hide her curiosity, and asked questions that made me question whether or not she was concerned about me or just utterly clueless. She didn't ever get real answers from me, because marriage is a private matter, it's what comes before everything, and when you're married you learn that your loyalty (usually) first and foremost lies with your spouse. I don't know if she expected me to gossip, but as soon as I attempted to give her an honest piece of me, of life, of my marriage, I saw something in her eyes that I didn't like. It's as if she was surprised at the rawness, and the truth, as if I was destroying some bubble she had been looking at.

Somehow I found myself not being able to call my friends when I needed them, not even knowing what I would say to them anyways. I found myself ashamed for missing home, after having made the conscious choice to not return. Sometimes friends wanted to know if I would ever come back, and yes, I would in a heartbeat, if I could. That means: if I could get my degree recognized in Germany and actually find work, and if my husband could keep his insurance and his medication in Germany. That means: not any time soon.

It took me two years to make a friend in Missouri, and when I finally felt good about that, when I had finally built a connection with someone, after three years in Missouri, it was time to move- again.