Quite frankly, my recent attempts to engage with new arrivals about the reality of integration and the darker sides of migration have fallen on deaf, indifferent and even slightly offended ears.
Meant with the best of intentions, my efforts to talk about downers, depression and death have not been embraced with open minds, let alone arms. And as I read that last sentence back, I have to say I am not entirely surprised.
So how do you, how do I, speak of such matters, when I know such difficult subjects, if engaged with openly, can bring so much positive relief and helpful realisation? Until I find a sugary coating, I will push on regardless, and trust that even if no one wants to grasp the nettle, they might remember the seed I planted, if or when an awkward need arises, knowing that I will return the call when others cross the street.
Fair enough that few want to break the happy ranks of mirthful migration, of ecstatic expatery, when so much has been invested into the moving process. Where a dream has so often been so carefully crafted, planned and longed-for. Who leaves home and comes here, or to any other foreign land, to have a bad time and need therapy? That’s not how it’s supposed to pan out.
But this is life we are talking about, wherever we live it, and its trials and tribulations are transferable. What migration offers, at its best, is a potentially better backdrop to endure the inevitabilities of our lived lives, but in no way can it immunise us from the dreaded lows of human existence that we all have to make sense of, in some way.
Such talk will have already had some fast forward a page or two, moving swiftly on to the crossword or sports pages, and I get it. And I have no problem with that. Each to their own, and timing is everything. For those morbidly curious or healthily inquisitive however, I will persist with the articulation of the awkward and talk up the taboos. But not alone.
With me this week are two recent correspondents from my Good Morning Portugal! Show, who have recently dared to ‘go there’ with me. First is lifelong country-hopper Simone Torres Costa, a psychotherapist and coach who proposes the idea of ‘Turning Expatriation into Personal Growth’, running workshops of the same name; the second a more seasoned incomer than most I meet, Aviva Ariel, who is about to launch what she’s calling a support group for foreigners who might appreciate that life in Portugal might not be all natas and niceness.
Both Simone and Aviva in their own ways (in-person and online respectively) offer a non-judgmental and safe space for us to share what’s going on for us, at any stage of our migratory journey. A respectful and expertly convened opportunity to put forward our thoughts, fears and limiting beliefs, as well as the hopes, dreams and vision we might want to create – both with over 20 years each of professional experience, helping others reflect and grow in such supported processes.
“When I get to Portugal, I’m going to immerse myself, I’m going to be integrated within a few weeks,” I told Simone, remembering satirically my earliest intentions as a new boy, when we recently spoke about what we called the ‘Integration Myth’.
Despite such good and noble urges, I realise in retrospect, and with Simone’s academic insight, that such bravado, albeit well-meaning, can actually and ultimately contribute to the stress of moving. It’s more important to be realistic than idealistic, I now realise; something the coach knows only too well from both a personal and professional point of view, about this “psycho-social adaptation”.
Those who, like me, once upon a time were all about burning the longboat on arrival, and along with it, all connection and sentimentality about the awful place from which we originated, might want to be a little more sensible about the realities of acculturation and acclimation, after we have looked them up in a dictionary.
She suggests we be a little easier on ourselves, having studied such habits and outcomes, and certainly embrace the values of our new home, but not dispatch entirely the culture from which we came and in which we were born. Simone encourages us to use the model of creating a more balanced stance: keeping one leg anchored in your own, original culture, and having the other leg anchored in the local community and culture that you are joining.
“This is the balance that we are looking for. This is a more realistic balance to expect,” she says.
Having dared to suggest this to some of the more enthusiastic arrivals I encounter at my weekly meetup, they are appalled by such measured and, to them, mean-spirited behaviour, but that’s perhaps only to be expected? For this, Simone also has an insight: “There’s nothing wrong about being in the honeymoon, as long as you are aware that this is a phase.”
And for those who can see beyond the honeymoon months or are actually already seeing their beloved ‘first thing in the morning without make-up’, as it were, perhaps Aviva’s new initiative will be of interest.
“This is a support group, meaning it isn’t a therapy group that is addressing specific mental health issues, diagnosis, or addictions or anything like that,” she says. “People can come into an intimate, safe setting, where it is confidential, to discuss concerns in a way that you’re not going to bring up with somebody you barely know,” meaning the person next to you at your first expat meetup!
“This is not an indication that you’re mentally unstable,” she says of her about-to-launch group, “and there’s nothing pejorative about it. It’s really about having a place to come and say, ‘I feel all over the place’, ‘I feel unsettled’, ‘I feel like maybe I made a bad choice’.”
She knows only too well, again from personal experience, that things can be tough in the early days when the shine of your dream life occasionally dulls: “All your coping mechanisms are being challenged, and sometimes the simplest thing can cause you to go into an emotional tailspin. The simplest of things, like how to operate a washing machine, could be the last straw of a day of ridiculous bureaucratic nonsense, and you’re in tears.”
Now, this is NOT the sort of thing you tend to see on a site selling migration services or a new dream life in Portugal, so thank goodness for the likes of Aviva and Simone, who have been there, got the t-shirt, and have the professional credentials to help.
“It’s just something that came from my heart,” says Aviva. “I really want to offer this in sincerity to others because I know that there are people in need of this.”
I say, “after the luggage comes the baggage”, glad in the knowledge that there are great people, like these two, available to help when it does.
- Please reach out to Aviva, whose group begins on June 12, here – avivaanew@outlook.com
- Simone’s support can be found here – www.torrescosta.com
