It’s been raining almost constantly for the last 5 days here in Tokyo. Which puts me in a very somber mood.
It’s as if Mother Nature is conveying what we’ve been feeling the last few weeks here. This move has been far from easy and we’ve been struggling finding our way both in this city and with each other.
I’ve been feeling guilty and really bad because I’ve basically forced this kid to move to a country where he knows no one or the language and he now has to attend this school that is so traditional, that he’s being asked to conform and not be who he is – which is this very animated, energetic, child who rarely buttons his pants after a restroom visit and has wild hair that defies gravity whenever he moves. He feels out of place, not only in his classroom but in his uniform (his words, not mine).
This week, we were featured on mater mea about the transition moving to Tokyo and my reasons for doing so. Although all my reasons ring true, I constantly doubt myself and my motivation for removing from all he has ever known to a place where I truly believe he can thrive and be happy. Social media makes it seem fun and easy, but we have had some significant challenges. And we both are stressing. And in our own ways of handing it, we’ve struggled to depend on one another for support.
I just want to protect and shield him from all that he’s carrying, but it’s challenging with a child so independent, that he prefers to handle his stress himself, sometimes. And that breaks my heart. Because I can see the worry in his eyes. Wondering if he will ever truly have a life here, or will he just be exhausting in the shadow of his gypsy mother’s dreams.
It could be possible that we both completely romanticised this transition and what it would mean to move almost 10,000 miles away from all we have ever known. Possibly. But despite the challenges and frustrations, I am happy. I am finally in a job where I feel useful. I feel like I’m doing work that means something and in that I have to believe that this struggle is worth it. That all the tears and frustration will mean more in the end because I gave my son a better life and exposed him to all that I never imagined as a kid.
I have to believe that I’m not completely fucking up my kid to chase some fantasy dream of a life.
I know it’s more than that. I know it’s bigger than that. But in my quiet moments, especially with this rain, I question every decision I’ve made up to this point.