When I moved countries many people suggested it would be a great opportunity to reinvent myself. I thought about this a lot, I didn’t really feel the need to do so but the concept was compelling. How does one go about completely recreating oneself? Is it possible? Is it a good idea?I learned quickly that the idea of crossing and ocean and hoping to find a new, improved self on the other side was ridiculous. You arrive at that airport the exact same person you left as, with the same out of style jacket and geeky tourist belt. You’re still a little chubby. You’re still nervous all the time. You are still you.
But the temptation is always there. The child in me has always taken small amounts of victory from harmless white lies and every once and a while one would slip in. I was single. I was married. I had a sordid past. I was well travelled. I knew what I was doing. It wasn’t really lying because I wasn’t sure about the truth of these statements to begin with. In a place where no one knew me I was suddenly unsure about whether I knew myself.
Realizing this came a shock to me. I had always considered myself fairly aloof to other people’s view of me. I considered myself confident and independent. But in a matter of days this confident independent person found herself rather pathetically desperate to make friends, desperate to phone home. I had come a long distance to be humbled. But in some ways I was forced to change. I had to sew on my own buttons, cook meals on my own, and navigate myself around the mysterious terrain of the UK. Being an unemployed grad student makes anyone more resourceful, my flatmates and I learned the wonders of communal cooking and I learned the finer joys in life included strolls along the beach and discounted bus tickets to London. I compensated cheap beer with good company. I leached office supplies off the graduate administrators. I was on my own little version of Survivor.
Travelling unleashes strengths and abilities you never knew you had. My sister and I scoured the uncomfortable backstreets of Chelsea for a hostel looking so determined, tough and unshowered that no one thought to mess with us. Lugging our worldly possessions around in a backpack we often bemoaned our aching bodes but never questioned why we were doing it. We never questioned our limits. And stayed on the island.
So I guess I should bring this rambling back to what I started with- reinventing. We’re always reinventing ourselves, every morning you are inventing a new you. Will this new you drink tea or coffee? Make contact with people on the bus or pretend you’re somewhere else? Wear fun or practical shoes? You don’t need to cross oceans to reinvent yourself. But no matter what continent you’re on, the outcomes of these reinventions are for the most part beyond your control and will probably surprise you more than anyone else.
