Grandad’s Ghost, or, How To Fuck Up A Funeral
Time, so boundless at first blush, is a shrinking prison, and it now seems to me ever more important to know the truth, to render the furrows ploughed into memory as accurately and authentically as possible. How else can you know who you are?
Ties That Bind – What makes us ‘belong’?
A large part of Identity is tied up with ‘belonging’. I often hear people talk about feeling comfortable where they ‘fit in’, they mention places where they ‘belong’ or ‘feel at home’. So how do you know where you belong?
- Borderline Personality Disorder, Bridging Cultures, Expat Life, Interracial marriage, Islam, Mental Health
Identity – More Than The Sum Of My Parts
You might think identity is something that comes from within, but copying and assumption have a huge influence in how we see ourselves.
Review of ‘An Inconvenient Posting – an expat wife’s memoir of lost identity’
Describing an encounter with depression during her family’s expatriation to Houston, USA, Laura J Stephens' memoir will strike a chord with displaced souls everywhere.
Expat Limbo
Approaching the three-year mark of our Canadian posting this expat's reached an impasse...
How to stay unique in a world that demands conformity
It’s a big confusing world out there and belonging means someone’s got your back. But what happens when you try to join a group that’s not your own?
What’s in a name?
Do you like your name? Is it your given name, or is it a nickname - something somebody identified about you that stuck, however astutely observant or wildly inaccurate it may be? I grew up with a very different name from the one I have now. I hated it...
Adjustment & Culture Shock
When I agreed to become a "Trailing Spouse", "Expat Wife" etc. I let my natural optimism carry me. I looked forward to change, new opportunities, seeing more of the world. I was excited.Oh yes! You could say I am the Queen of Naive Thinking!
Square peg in a round hole? Get used to it… you’re an expat.
What does the term "expat" mean to you? If anyone had asked me that a few years ago, it would have conjured up images of sunburnt Brits on the Costa del Sol, eating full English breakfasts, wearing Union Jack shorts and waving cans of Carlsberg at anyone within shouting distance.
Arrested Development
Back in England, my life was full of Things but no Substance. Living on a shoestring here in Canada has been like slowly waking up from a long sleep.
