“Country roads, take me home / to the place I belong.” These lyrics have infiltrated my life and the lives of many other students studying abroad through the various countries we’ve traveled to, the bars we’ve gone out to and even the people we have met. Although met at first with shock, the soulful sound of some soft American singer-songwriter feels surprisingly comfortable and warm. In a bar full of people with thick accents and historic traditions, a reminder of old, sweet West Virginia can feel very gratifying.
Despite this nice feeling, I’m not from the country, and the little relations I have with the American countryside are now distant memories. Those old roads that lead you to where you belong is not an image of America that I can relate to, which makes me wonder why there is some part of me that is so attached to that representation of American Culture. Or, more generally, why do I find myself wanting to cry when reminded of this dreamy version of my home?
I think that being abroad (for the little time I’ve been here) has really crystallized this thought for me. Of course, it’s expected to have connections to an idealized version of where you are from — but I think that image doesn’t always rise to the surface until you have changed your surroundings and find yourself in a place where that culture is not underlying.
For me and my friends, this is a very complicated feeling to deal with. Like a heat rising in your chest, like seeing a tree you planted when you were eight or sending your brother off to college. A pining for a time or thing or place that will still exist, but may not be existing right now.
Yearning is the feeling that I’m talking about. I have written about this before, about how I yearn for a time before I knew what yearning was, for a time before I knew what time was. Going abroad has shown me the nature of these feelings. They are not positive ones — they burden me and make me cry. Rather, these feelings are deeply rooted in fear and, more specifically, a fear of change. Throughout my time in London thus far, change has entered my life in every way possible — there is almost no similarity to my life in New York, and sometimes I find that very challenging. Back and forth between different cultures and cities every week leaves me feeling very hopeless and empty on Monday night. I have an attachment to the brief time my friends and I lived alternative lives, often in places where my return seems unimaginable.
In general, I’ve realized that these feelings are often those of longing. Like yearning, longing is a feeling of desire for something that is unattainable or distant. For me, and I presume many other students studying abroad, longing for all the places you’ve been or lived is persistent in daily life. I miss the hostel I stayed at in Edinburgh, even though I was sleeping in a room with 12 other adults, and the lights were never on. I miss the weekends celebrating birthdays despite the chaos of eight girls in one place spending far too much money.
Most of all, I miss those old country roads, even though I have no idea where they are or what they look like.
After vocalizing these feelings to my dad and accepting the lecture that comes with sharing honest emotions with your parents, I discovered a new way to approach the yearning that seems to never leave my life. Although it sounds mundane and obvious, looking at these experiences with gratitude rather than longing makes them something to wish upon fondly, not hope for desperately. I think finding a balance between yearning and acceptance is where change can be appreciated.
Being abroad has shown me how much I yearn for things on a daily basis. I would not describe myself as someone who is fleeting — I like ruminating on my feelings for probably too long. However, this lifestyle is not something I can keep up with while I’m living in London. I realize that I must accept this fast paced nature of life I signed up for last year — and more importantly, I think that it’s helping me progress through my fear of change. I am excited to continue living a little more impulsively here, but that doesn’t mean I won’t feel a little longingness when “Take Me Home, Country Roads” plays in the pub.
