Meeting new people almost always results in asking how long I’ve been here. I’ve generally said “since January 2011.” That’s the first time I went through the Resident line for Customs instead of the Visitors line.
Except my visa says December 2011. And I wasn’t here much my first three months. I wasn’t here for a solid three months until April.
So what’s the right time frame?
Unless going by government documents, there isn’t one. And there shouldn’t be. Why? Because adjusting to such a big life change happens at its own pace. I can speed it up or slow it down, to some extent, but the mind can only absorb, process and adjust to so much before it shuts down and reverts back to what it believes is normal.
I’ve come to call that my Monet Distance. Too far is normal. Too close is infuriating. Somewhere in the middle is just right. Except I move too far or too close, or a just a little bit in either direction, get flustered and wonder what the heck I’m doing. I’ll be the last one to call myself a perfectionist, but I do admit to struggling to find that perfect distance.
And the fear of not finding that perfect distance is quite the barrier. And totally unnecessary.
If you let fear drive the time frame, if you let fear dictate what happens when, finding that perfect Monet Distance will remain elusive. I have become increasingly aware of this this year, both professionally and personally.
Professionally, I’ve always excelled at work. I learn things quickly, need to be challenged blah blah blah. If there is no challenge in my day-to-day, I look for one, generally in the form of a higher level view of the company. I turn my keen powers of observation, as people keep telling me, on the inner workings, simply because I’m bored. It can be an interesting study in startup life, the experience v. what you just read about. All well and fascinating, but I’ve found that the high level view puts me too close to the Monet. I just see dots, a mess of dots. I have to step back. There is more going on than just the mess of dots. I have to pause, step back, survey things and where I find myself. Then I find that right distance, turning that mess of dots into a stunning image.
That applies personally too, and has been considerably more challenging as it is not as obvious to me when fear is driving the time frame and all I’m seeing is dots.
I’ve not been the outgoing type, or popular. I’ve been the outcast. The target. I carry that mentality around with me, caught in the assumption “that is how it was, how it is and how it always will be.” Point being I never had the social life my peers enjoyed.
And then I moved to here, and have continually found myself bombarded by the opposite of what I have internalized and, through my own corrupted databases of information (discovered as part of my personal big data project), believed to be fact. The act of moving to a foreign country was quite jarring, as you have read, but it also meant I had to shed my introvert, protective nature, lest I remain holed up in my apartment, Netflix and Uncharted keeping me company. I confess that sounded incredibly inviting in the early going. In fact, it was wonderful, in the early going. But just as I look for challenges at the office, so, too, do I look for challenges to myself.
Challenges, then, are a way to prevent fear from driving the time frame.
This year, I’ve learned that if I let fear drive the time frame, I’m too close. Too many dots. I need to see more of the picture. I have to step back. For an introvert, this is harder to do. Stepping back often means stepping out, engaging and interacting with people, in the flesh. I’m not a bar person. If I’m going to sit, I’d rather sit at home playing Uncharted or Mario Kart. if I have to step out, I want to be active. Softball. Dodgeball. Quandra Island. All activities that require being around, and engaging with, people in the flesh.
At times, it was too much. Too many people. Too much engagement. I was too far away from Monet. A sea of dots encased by a frame that hung on a wall in a really big room that echoed with continuous chatter. Fear took over and sent me back into my cave of Netflix and Uncharted.
Too close.
With a whole lot of trial and error this year, I’ve found that perfect personal Monet Distance, where I see a stunning image. I haven’t always been able to stay at the right distance, life pulls in many different directions and the experiences add new data points and rip open old wounds I had forgotten about. I know, now, what that proper distance is though, what it feels like and thus, when fear is driving the time frame and forcing me too close, or too far.
When all I see are dots, I’m not in the right spot.
When I see a stunning image, I’m right where I need to be.
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