Most people think being an international student is glamorous because you’re in a new country and living a new adventure. Sometimes it can be, but it’s also really hard, and I feel like we don’t talk enough about it, so I’m here to share my experience. Please keep in mind that this just how I feel, and not everyone feels the same.
Coming to the United States cost me everything. I left my siblings, my parents, my entire family, my friends, the people that watched me grow up, my language, my culture and the streets I was raised on. Saying goodbye was one of the hardest things that I ever had to do, and then, I was alone on the other side of the world with only two packed suitcases.
I became very independent very quickly. I had to, and still have to, take care of administrative tasks all on my own. Things like going to the bank, taking care of my visa, finding a job and more. I find this difficult because it was usually my parents who took care of such things.
I had to adjust a lot. Everything doesn’t work the same way as it does at home. I had to learn how to use Fahrenheit, degrees, miles and inches, and English is not my first language, so sometimes I don’t catch exactly what someone is saying. There are a lot of cultural references that I don’t get. It’s part of the process, I guess, but it’s hard sometimes because it makes me feel like I’m an outsider (which I kind of am but you get what I mean).
I think the worst thing is the homesickness. If I feel bored, I can’t just get out of my bedroom to go see what my family is doing. They’re not here anymore. I can’t do anything about it, though. I cannot go home just for a weekend because I want to. Going back to my home country takes me at least an entire day, and it’s too expensive for me to go back 10 times a year. I didn’t realize how much home meant to me until I could only come back to it twice a year.
Now, I just text, call or video chat my family, but even that is hard because of the time difference. In my home country, it’s six hours later than here at Kent. I only see glimpses of what is happening at home. I miss birthdays, celebrations, bad days and normal days. I miss everything since I left, and it’s a different kind of heartbreak to realize that life at home doesn’t stop while I’m away. People grow up, people change, things happen, inside jokes are made and I’m not there to see it happening.
It’s weird how I started to refer to my dorm as “home.” I say, “I’m going home” sometimes while talking about my dorm. I don’t even know if I accept that because home, for me, is still my house with my family. Now, there is a difference between “going home” meaning walking to my dorm and “going home” meaning taking an airplane to another country.
Another weird and heartbreaking thing is how I went form saying “see you tomorrow” to my friends to “I promise I’ll visit.” We went from seeing each other almost every day to all of us moving to different places, and I can’t see them anymore except when I go back home. Funny how, not so long ago, vacations meant leaving home, and now they mean going back home.
I expected the loneliness and the homesickness, of course I did. It didn’t stop me from feeling low. I’m a middle child, so I always had my siblings with me. I would often be talking with them, playing with them or just being in the same room together. My house has always been quite lively, and suddenly I was alone and everything was quiet. I had to start an entire new life from scratch in a country where nobody knew me and nobody had my back.
I don’t think I was ever ready to leave. I just … did it.
However, studying abroad being hard doesn’t mean it’s bad. I’m aware that this is what I chose, and I don’t regret it. I’m in an excellent college, the campus is beautiful, I’ve met some great people and this is what I need to do for my career. I’m aware that I’m lucky that my parents supported me and helped me make this possible, but it doesn’t change the fact that it cost me everything.