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Letting go of your future self in favour of your current self

When you decide to immigrate, you start imagining what your new life is going to be like. You conduct research about your new home and you try to put as much as possible in place. But in all honesty, no amount of preparation or research can prepare you for how your future self will handle a future life in an unknown place. I’ve been in Canada for eight months now, and I am yet to find some sort of equilibrium. I had big ideas and big dreams, but I can honestly say that I was wholly unprepared for my future self’s response to this transition.

Some people seem to have a clear sense of who they are. Or perhaps they haven’t taken the time for the introspection required to realise who they are. Either way, they don’t seem to have this internal struggle that I find myself battling every day. The struggle to know who I am and to anticipate what my future self will want and how she will react in different situations.

As someone who values order and structure, I like to have a plan for whatever I take on in life. And I suppose right there was my first mistake – assuming that a plan would make the transition easier. It did not. In fact, in some instances, I believe having a plan made matters worse, because as you can imagine, life is not bothered with your plans. What’s the saying? “Life is what happens while you are busy making plans” … This is how I’ve felt over the last eight months. I’ve been making one plan after another and it seems my life has been living itself. Or perhaps my life has morphed and taken on a “life” of its own, whilst I was trying to reign it in and “mould” (read “force”) it to my will…

What any wise person would tell you, is that when you fight against the flow of life, everything feels like a struggle. It is so much easier to give up to the flow of life. I still believe there are times, when the right thing to do, IS to fight against or to swim against the stream – the times when giving in means sacrificing your values or who you are. But on most other days, fighting against life, is actually denying your real self to come to the fore and figuring out who you are and what you want.

Typical of my ambitious nature, I had set many goals for this “new life” of mine. I was going to transform myself into a fitter, healthier, more productive and more successful version of myself…

But I severely underestimated what disconnection, loneliness, heartache, homesickness and overwhelm can do to your sense of self and your desire to even want to strive towards goals. I am an optimistic and dynamic person by nature. I have always relied on my resilience and my ability to bounce back from setbacks. And although I told myself it was going to be difficult, I still somehow believed that I would just “get over it and move on”.

I could not have been more wrong. Fit and healthy. Forget about it. Four months of the most extreme cold I had ever experienced, and incredible loneliness meant I gave up running altogether and decided to eat my sorrows away. Of course, as everyone knows, eating when you’re sad and depressed, just leads to even greater sadness and more eating. Vicious cycle. Before you know it, you don’t recognise the person in the mirror staring back at you.

Add to the mix, six months of severe sleep deprivation. Baby was struggling with this new adjustment just as much as we were, and she decided that the best way to deal with her chaotic and overwhelming emotions, was to cling to Mummy for dear life and never sleep. So, I spent the first six months of our stay in Canada sleeping no more than 3 hours a night. Being an insomniac meant that I was used to only sleeping a few hours a night, but broken, interrupted sleep is soooo much worse than sleeping uninterrupted; if only for a few hours… Eventually, you don’t know who you are anymore. Nothing makes sense and your concentration levels are below zero. You struggle to find any inspiration and eventually just give up on trying.

Four months of living in temporary accommodation added to the uncertainty and overwhelm we were feeling. It is the hardest thing to try and implement some sort of routine when you know everything you do, is only temporary and will have to change at a moment’s notice. There’s this growing movement of young people opting out of the normal routine of life and electing to become nomadic travellers. It’s a spin-off of living more minimalistically. They are just settling anywhere they end up and then only for a short period of time, before moving on. If my husband and I were younger and we did not have a baby, I would have seen this transition as an adventure – a way for us to become nomadic travellers and see more of the world. But the moment you have kids, your perspective changes. I’m not saying being nomadic parents can’t work, I just know it can’t work for us. I’ve seen how the lack of routine and security has affected our little one and I believe that children function better in a secure environment with routines in place. Now I know a lot of that comes down to you as the parent. You provide the security and the structure and the routine. But that requires that YOU have a strong sense of self and that YOU feel grounded. And I had lost my ground. I felt lost to myself and to the world.

I knew I had to be strong for the little one, but as the weeks turned into months and I felt my sense of self slip further and further away, it became increasingly difficult to find and maintain a stable and secure sense of self. Don’t get me wrong, I tried. I really did. I tried multiple times to register with a family doctor to obtain some help – six times with no success in the last eight months. I tried running by myself. I signed up for different training classes – from yoga to kickboxing. I tried reshuffling my routine about a hundred times. I read books, and blogs and watched videos and tried to “counsel” myself. I tried exploring new places. I even tried speaking to a psychologist about the fact that I’m battling to adjust. Not only did I receive no sympathy or understanding, I also found myself explaining the basics of psychology to this person who was supposed to help me. When it got to a point where I was answering her questions about basic personality types and the role of values in one’s life, I decided that this particular counsellor-patient relationship was not going to work.

So, what have I learnt over the last eight months?

First, figure out if you really know your current self. The real you. Not your ideal self or the person you tell other people you are or the person you hope to become or the person you hope to find by moving to the other side of the world – your real self. The one you are now. The person you are when no-one else is around. The self that skips the gym and chooses to veg on the couch watching Netflix instead. The self that eats the chocolate instead of the salad, because even though you know the salad is better for you, the chocolate makes you hate your life less right now.

What I always intuitively knew about myself, but did not want to acknowledge to myself, was how much I actually depend on other people. I try to convince myself that I don’t need other people. But I do. More than the average person does. As an Ennea 6, I don’t always trust my inner voice, so I often turn to others for confirmation of what I intuitively know, but don’t trust is the right thing for me unless someone else somehow validates it for me. Of course, the most important personal growth I can accomplish, is learning to trust my inner voice more and rely less on others’ validation. However, I don’t think the best way to do that, is to remove all people from your life in one instant. All this does, is cripple you and make you feel completely disconnected and isolated. In stead of finding ways to trust myself more and build my own confidence, all I ended up doing was mourning the loss of those I hold dear; wishing I was with them once more and replaying old memories over and over and basically getting stuck in the past, missing a life I had so carelessly given up without even realising WHAT I was giving up…

Second, make plans. Do research, but don’t imagine that anything will pan out the way you think it will. Be ready for curve balls. Know that the unexpected will happen and it will catch you off guard and you will doubt yourself and even regret leaving your comfort zone. But accept that life is going to happen regardless of your planning or lack thereof and that at the end of the day, you will either make a choice or the choice will be made for you.

Third, know that people back home won’t always understand. They will try to be supportive and they will try to give you “advice” but keep in mind that some experiences are difficult to relate to if you haven’t been through them yourself. Try to remember how you thought it was going to be, when you were still back home and only planning this transition and then you will begin to understand how those back home see it and why they don’t always understand. Forgive them for that, because it doesn’t mean they don’t love you. The fact that they are trying so hard to “help” means just that: they love you. And it is hard for them to see you this way and to not know how to make it better.

Fourth, it is important to find people who are in the same boat as you, who have gone through it, because they get it. But choose carefully. Some people are much further along in the journey than you are and might have forgotten what it feels like to be in the starting gate. They have left the scared, lonely and uncertain versions of themselves behind and are building new lives for themselves and your sad demeanour actually makes them uncomfortable. Find people who can be comfortable with your sadness and your homesickness. For me, personally, I avoid older South Africans who left South Africa more than 20 or 30 years ago. They grew up in a different time and they don’t have the same memories or feelings about South Africa. They don’t get me, and they don’t know the South Africa that I know. I love my country and I did not embark on this journey to run away from my home. I embarked on this journey to grow and stretch myself, for new learning opportunities and to ensure a future for my child.

Fifth, be kind to yourself. The biggest mistake I made, was not being kind to myself. I could not “forgive” myself for not “getting over it and moving on”. I would beat myself up over every little failure along the way. Eventually, I just became a shadow of my past self. I didn’t recognise myself and felt like I had no control over my life. Of course, I would berate myself for it, consequently making a bad situation worse. So, don’t set too many big goals for the first year. Your only goal should be to find a new normal. That’s it. What is normal for me in my new life? What does my routine look like? What do I like about my new life and my new environment, that I can consciously try to bring into my life more often?

Sixth, cry. Cry as much as you need to. Acknowledge to yourself how you really feel. Be willing to experience even your deepest and darkest emotions, because the only way to the other side, is through it. You have to feel the loneliness, the self-doubt, the anger, the frustration, the sadness, the despair. Only then can you move to a new sense of calm, serenity and joy. I have managed a few days of calm and joy. But unfortunately, most of my days are still filled with loneliness, self-doubt, despair, anger and frustration. I suppose, because I was trying to ignore how I was feeling and move on despite how I was feeling, I have inadvertently delayed the healing process. So now, I try to feel all of it and I let myself be sad and weak. I allow myself the space to be tired or to feel like nothing works and I work through it, in the hope that I will find release or salvation on the other side of the difficult emotions…

Seventh, don’t stop loving. Don’t give up on the one’s you love; especially if your greatest sense of meaning lies in the abstract and in things like love, connection and family – which I imagine is where it is for most people; even when they don’t want to admit it to themselves. Find ways to connect. Find ways to remain actively involved in the lives of the people you care about. Hangouts and Skype can never replace the real thing, but it can make the pain bearable.

Lastly, budget. If there is one area of your life where you MUST have a plan, it is finances. Have a budget, stick to it and use it to build a life that works for you. For me, connecting with family and friends trumps anything else. So, I give up luxuries and any other non-essentials to save up and visit home. For now, it is the only way to stay sane. Perhaps that will change over time. But I have stopped trying to imagine I know what my future self would want, and I’ve decided that it makes more sense to focus on what would bring my current self a sense of purpose or joy. After all, my current self is real – flaws and all. She is still who I am right now; whereas my future self will be shaped by the choices I make today, and I want those choices to reflect a life of purpose, connection and value.

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Should you take your pets with you when you emigrate?

My two furry children, Darwin (left) and Snowy (right) with my not-so-furry child in the background. Happy care-free days in warm, sunny South Africa with them just lazing about.

For most of us, our pets are part of the family. In my case, I hand-raised my one cat. He was a feral kitten only 5 weeks old, and abandoned by his mother when I got him. He was completely wild. It was with great joy and pride that I managed to tame him enough to at least get him to behave in a civil manner towards the humans in his most immediate environment. Our second cat – imagines himself a dog – but is a lovable addition to our family, and to a great extent, they are my children. I know some would frown at this, but I also know that there are a lot of pet lovers out there that share my sentiment, and who get how easily an animal can claim a space in your heart and in your life and how difficult it is to just discard these special members of your family.

So, when my husband tried to convince me to move to Canada, one of my conditions was that I get to take my cats with me. They are my children after all, and I couldn’t bear to leave them behind. Of course I did the due dilligence and inquired from those already living in Canada whether they thought my cats would adjust to the new environment, especially considering how cold it gets in Canada. I was met with reassurance that they would be fine and would adjust quickly. In addition, Canada’s pet immigration policy is not as strict as other countries. As long as your pets are older than a year, their vaccination records are up to date and they pass their health exam in South Africa, they don’t have to go into quarantine. You get to take them home as soon as they arrive in Canada.

I took all of this as a sign that I was doing the right thing taking my cats with me to Canada. However, although the immigration process went smoothly for them and they arrived safely, they have struggled to adjust. Here is why…

There are three things to keep in mind when you are considering whether to take your pets with you when you immigrate.

Firstly, it is expensive. Really expensive. The cost of shipping a pet to another country is about double what your own plane ticket would cost you. They have to be vaccinated and subjected to medical exams and all of this cost money. Specialised crates need to be made for them to ship them and they are booked onto their own flights. The reason why your animals do not fly with you, is because the companies that ensure your pets’ safe transfer try to find the shortest possible route for them to travel with a stop over in between to give them a chance to rest and eat etc. Remember, that despite how taxing the long flight is for you, it is so much more overwhelming and traumatising for them. They are confined to a crate and are not allowed to eat on-route in case they get sick. They have no clue what is happening to them and you are not arround to comfort them. So it is quite a shock to the system. Also, animals cannot legally be sedated during long trips, because it constitutes animal cruelty. So they are simply provided calming treatments but are kept awake for the entire trip.

Secondely, when you arrive in your new country, you will have to find accommodation as a matter of urgency, and bringing pets along complicates matters, since most landlords do not allow pets. This eliminates many suitable housing options, because you have to find something that is pet-friendly. In Vancouver, landlords that allow pets charge an additional pet cover on top of your initial securing deposit, so you end up paying a double deposit on the accommodation. Most of the time the pet depost is for pet-incurred damages – i.e. pet hair, scratches or bite marks on furniture etc. – and is non-refundable. Even if your pet is usually well-behaved, they will most probably misbehave for the simple reason that they will arrive at your accommodation after a long and traumatising trip confined to a crate for many hours and then have to get used to an unfamiliar new environment. This is usually very distressful for most animals and they tend to act out, because they feel overwhelmed and confused. Our cats tore into the dining room chairs in our temporary accommodation and despite buying them not one, but three scratching posts, and various cat toys, they did not stop scratching the furniture. We ended up hiding the dining room chairs in the main bedroom walk-in closet at night while we slept and only taking them out when we really needed them. Desperate times called for desperate measures. We did not want to incur any penalties for damage to furniture in our temporary accommodation.

Lastly, if you decide to move to Canada, and you have a pet that spends more time outdoors than indoors, DO NOT believe people if they tell you that your animal will adjust to the climate in Canada. My cats are not your typical house cat. They used to spend most of their time playing outdoors or lying somewhere in the garden. They are fully house-trained in the sense that we did not even keep a litterbox for them in the house in South Africa. They had an open window for easy access to the house, but would “take care of business” outside in the garden.

Then we end up in Canada in the middle of winter and my poor cats are confined to the house for the first time in their short lives. Firstly, because we were staying in temporary accommodation when we arrived here, we did not want to let them out in case they wandered off and got lost. We decided to hold off untill we moved into a more permanent place. Unfortunately, what we did not bargain on was that our new house would be child-proof and what this means is that even the windows are childproof. They don’t open far enough for a cat to get through and all the windows are covered in guaze. Furthermore, staying in a townhouse means that we are not flat on the ground so they have quite a distance to jump if they were to get out.

I remained hopeful though, thinking we could use the window in the kitchen that goes out into the garden and at least give them some access to the garden. But there are two problems here. In winter, the snow presents an obstacle. They are not used to moving in snow and were completely freaked out by the snow. A side-note here, is that for dogs, it is even worse, because when it snows they cover the roads and sidewalks with salt to prevent people from slipping. However, the salt cuts into the dogs’ paws which means you have to get special socks for them to wear in the winter months if you want to take them outside. The second problem is that in summer, letting the cats out of the house might result in them becoming dinner. I asked locals here why we never see cats around and they explained that cat owners keep their cats indoors because the bears, coyotes and raccoons eat them. As luck would have it, we ended up renting in the Burke Mountain area, which is the prime spot for bears and coyotes in Vancouver. So my cats are still stuck in the house.

In retrospect, I find myself crying some days thinking that perhaps I did them an injustice by bringing them here. They have no clue what is happening and they don’t understand why they can’t go outside. Luckily our new house has a lot stairs and interesting places to climb and explore, so that keeps them busy and they seem to be settling in better than in the temporary accommodation.

Despite all of the frustration and trauma, these darling animals have still brought us comfort. They have served as welcome companions for my daugther who absolutely love having these furry friends to play with. She has learnt pretty quickly how to entice them to chase after a rope or a ball or any other fun object and they are spoilt with cuddles on a daily basis. As for me, having a furry friend on my lap on the days when the homesickness is strong, brings tremendous comfort. I have always felt calm in the presence of a purring cat and they have not dissappointed. Despite my husband’s complaints, both Emma and I enjoy their company and are grateful for the little bit of respite they bring. I can only hope that they are grateful to us for keeping them around instead of abadoning them to the care of someone else.

Most people are dog lovers. Most people do not like cats all that much. My cats have different personalities and are just as lovable as any dog. They just have sharper claws and more attitude. But I love them either way and I sleep easier knowing that being stuck inside, is still better than being left to their own resources, or worse perhaps facing a unceremonious end to their short little lives.

Darwin trying to find a comfortable spot in our temporary accommodation
Snowy exploring the stairs in our new house
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Breyties decide to take on Canada

So, you decide that you want to emigrate. You have become disillusioned by the country you call home and you think that perhaps the grass is going to be greener somewhere else. You start racking up the reasons for your decision to emigrate – the economy is failing, the currency is worthless, crime is out of control, society is falling apart, no-one abides by the laws anymore, the government is corrupt, public services are dysfunctional, the educational system is failing etc. You are sick and tired of just getting by. You want to get back to the business of living. And you believe it can be accomplished by leaving, because you have heard of so many others making it work in other countries.

So, you choose your location, you begin the research and you start to wonder if you measure up and whether you will make the cut. You start looking for work. Perhaps you attend a few information seminars and you have experts assess your eligibility. If you are lucky – really lucky – like my husband, you are headhunted and offered the opportunity of a lifetime. You realise that there is never going to be another opportunity like this. Considering all the reasons why home is no longer a viable option (see reasons above), you decide that you would be a fool not to take this opportunity. Even though the location was not one of your choosing, you start warming to the idea, because everything you read about your potential new home is wonderful.

People are taken aback when you tell them you are leaving. Some take you seriously. Others do not. Most try to justify the hand they were dealt – i.e. having to stay in a country where the economy is failing and the crime is out of control and the currency is worthless and government is corrupt and dysfunctional etc. What else can they do? They did not win the lottery like you. You feel a little guilty. You feel like you have to defend your decision. You feel a little selfish. But you keep reminding yourself that you did “win the lottery” in this instance and that you would be foolish to give it up. You start having the “what if” conversations with your partner. What if we stay? Will we look back and wonder whether we should have gone? Will we perhaps regret it? What if we go and we hate it? Can we come back? Not likely. It is going to cost a fortune to get there in the first place.

So, you start the process. You sit for the language test. You subject yourself to the medical examinations. You obtain your police clearance. You fill in the mountains of documentation. You obtain references from previous employers. You validate your qualifications. You endure the grinding visa “interviews” (read “interrogations”). You jump through every single hoop they tell you to. You start reading up about your new home. You try to learn as much as possible about life over there – the weather, taxes, housing, transportation, the culture, activities and things to see and do etc. Some of the things sound weird to you. We don’t do it like that over here, you think. Others sound exciting. Wow, I can’t believe people have that over there. Your wander lust kicks in and the excitement builds about the places you are going to see and the new experiences you are going to have.

But the process is long. In the meantime, your life must go on. So, you keep working and doing your thing and waiting and waiting for that faithful day when you finally hear your visa is ready for collection. You put your house in the market, hoping you will sell it in time. But the economy is almost stagnant and no-one is buying and you wait and you wait. Frustration sets in. You might be stuck here with property you cannot dispose of. So, you devise plans for how you will manage it. Will you rent it out? Will you give someone else power of attorney to sell it on your behalf? What are you going to do without the money you are supposed to make off selling the house? You were kind of betting on that money to see you through the first two months in your new country, because you won’t be earning an income yet. So, you make another plan. You cancel all your insurance policies. You have your investments paid out to you. You sell your cars and appliances (they won’t work on the other side). You draw up budgets and you research what food and living expenses are going to be once you arrive in your new country. Reality starts setting in. This is going to be tough. We won’t have any money. We are going to struggle. We will need to spend wisely until we start working.

One year later, visa in hand, reality sinks in. It is time to book plane tickets. It is time to arrange accommodation. It is time to say goodbye. And you realise that despite all your research and preparation, you are not ready. Suddenly the fear sets in. You don’t want to leave. It is going to be too hard to say goodbye. So, you spend as much time as you can with loved ones. You commit to chatting via video call once you are on the other side. Then you realise the time difference means you will be cut off from people for most of the day… You stress eat and you don’t sleep and small things trigger a gush of tears. Your tickets are booked. There is no turning back now. People want to know if you are excited. You assess your internal space and you find you are not. You are simply overwhelmed and terrified and incredibly sad.

You say your goodbyes. You cry until you have no tears left. You get on a plane and you watch your home grow smaller in the distance as you say your final goodbye and embark on a journey you have convinced yourself for more than a year you wanted to take, but now you are not so sure anymore.

You arrive on the other side, shell-shocked and exhausted and pushed to your absolute emotional limit. Everything is so clean and efficient. People are friendly, but not warm, because you are foreign to them and they are foreign to you. You acquire your rental car and wonder what in the world you were thinking imagining that you would DRIVE YOURSELF to your accommodation! You get into the wrong side of the car and then remember that they drive on the other side of the road here. So, you get into the “right” side of the car and then realise that you have no idea what you are doing. Baby is screaming because she is tired and she can sense your angst. So, she is not pleased. Your first car ride through the city is not one of awe and amazement, but one of sheer terror as you try to get a screaming baby to calm down and navigate through traffic whilst remembering to drive on the “wrong” side of the road, which is now the “right” side of the road!

Considering the sheer level of exhaustion and overwhelm you are experiencing upon arrival, you feel like you could literally fall apart at the first sign of trouble. When you take the bigger picture into consideration, you suppose you had less setbacks than most people who embark on this journey. You have paid accommodation for the first 30 days and a rental car to get around. Most people who arrive here as immigrants start with nothing. They must figure out the public transport system on arrival and they end up living in someone’s basement for the first few months. So, you suppose it could be worse.

It nonetheless does not minimize the stress you are under to find permanent accommodation and to secure a driver’s license and/or figure out the public transport system. On top of that there is obtaining Social Insurance Numbers, opening bank accounts, orientating yourselves about the local environment – i.e. where the shops and the community centre are; where the nearest pharmacy is; how to obtain a family doctor etc. Your little baby girl gets sick within the first few days and suddenly the grass is not so green on the other side. You have to have a public medical services card to use the public medical health, but you can only obtain one if you have been here for three months. So currently you do not qualify. So what to do in the interim. So you go from walk-in clinic to walk-in clinic, only to be told that baby needs to be sicker before she can get help. No medicine. No help. So you make another plan. You self-medicate and you stay indoors because it’s too cold outside.

Days spent indoors… and frustration sets in. You feel overwhelmed, disoriented and you miss home so much it hurts. You wonder what everyone else is doing back home. You find yourself waking up at 02:00 or 03:00 in the morning, because you know it is afternoon back home and you send messages to loved ones inquiring how they are and what they are up to. It feels as if your life is standing still and you are simply waiting for the next moment when you can talk to someone back home. You spend your early mornings on video calls crying and having to be reassured by family who feel powerless to change your situation and who end up worrying about you and not being able to concentrate on their own lives that now have to go on without you.

Your mom-in-law sends you a picture of the photo she has next to her bed of her granddaughter that is now 16 000 km away. And you break down and cry. You are invited to visit a South African family who has walked the path before you and who has now made this their new home and you hear them tell you that their kids don’t realise they have grandparents because they were born here. And you find yourself thinking, but my baby girl knows her grandparents and she deserves to know them. Have I done her an injustice by taking her away from them? Did I do irreparable damage to her development? She was brought into a world filled with love. So many back home are heartbroken because they no longer get to spend time with her and you feel like the most selfish person in the world. What have you done? Home is where the heart is and your heart belongs to your family. What is life without the ones who love us authentically?

You hear your new “friends” (read “acquaintances”) say that you do what you need to do to survive over here. They tell you to make friends with others who are on the same journey, even if you would not have befriended them back home. It is better than being alone, they say. At least you share a common background, they say. But you ask yourself can I live my life like this? Will superficial, platonic relationships sustain me over time? And the answer is no. Those who have not experienced the immense satisfaction derived from deep authentic relationships with others, will probably not understand how it feeds your soul and empowers you during your darkest hours. Those who have not known the world of difference one hug could make from the right person, will not understand. But those of you who share that connection, know that it feels like your heart has been ripped out of your chest and you are now required to go on living without your heart.

You know yourself better than most people do. You have spent a lot of time analyzing your core motivations and fears. You have clarified your values. You know what matters. But perhaps you needed to travel to the other side of the world to realise what you would be willing to do to hold on to that which matters most…