Culture of our Own

The diplomatic world, is really, the only world I really know.

Every 3 years I have moved, with every move comes a clean slate. something new and exciting. I can burn bridges, and there were never any repercussions. I was good at moving, mostly, because I was allowed to avoid.

When I joined the Foreign Service, I was with my eco system, there was comfort in the weird jokes, the political banter, the constant debating. It was a safe cocoon for me in many ways, as I was avoiding living any other way. Since I left, I have gone through my ups and downs. I don’t know how to stay still, I have never learned, nor have I ever lived and worked around people who don’t understand my world, or maybe it is that I don’t understand their world.

We have finally settled in a city we love, creating a business we love, but I still live with anxiety. Even though I was born in the country of my Nationality, I don’t understand its culture. I am often perplexed by it.

I once told my husband that I feel like an immigrant in my own country, I might look and speak like a native, so people don’t view me as anything different, but this culture is more confusing to me than any other culture I have lived in, and I don’t identify with it the majority of the time. My identity has, is and will always be as a mish mash of cultures in a package that is the diplomatic kid, we are a culture of our own.

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