Friends & Family, Life
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Third Culture Friendship

I just got home from a pretty long day and I’m so happy to be flopped in my bed (and possibly watch Personal Preference–see post below). There are some things going on in my life right now that I don’t really agree to, hopefully these “things” are for the better and will give me a few answers I need in life i.e. where I’m headed, what I’m supposed to do, how do I breakaway and everything in between. I don’t wanna dwell too much on it because I’m trying to practice living in the moment, so let’s just leave it as it is for now.

While on the way home last night with bff to drive Paul & Patrick after hanging out, the four of us got into a conversation about our friendship. I have always called these people “The Core” because I consider these people as my core support system in Jakarta. We were talking about how much we missed hanging out especially since everyone’s so far from each other, or doing their own thing like being in college in another country, in my case venturing into the “real world” (aka corporate slavery). When Patrick’s back from Manila he always talks about how much he misses everything we do and our weekend routines even though life is quite great in the homeland. There was a point where Paul said, “I think we need to find new friends..” To everyone’s agreement I said, “I have lots of new friends but I love this friendship, no one can ever change that.” It’s the irreplaceable kind because as third culture kids our needs and wants are interconnected and when we talk about our challenges, each one of us get each other because there’s that certain bond that comes with it.

It just made me realize how far our friendship has reached. We were around 6-10 years old when we started becoming friends and here we are now 16-22, when we’re together it feels like home. Which always brings me to a thought about my own identity because being a TCK, I’m not really sure where I belong. Does this mean that it triggers my doubt of self-belonging even more? Sometimes I think too much.

1 Comment

  1. So there is a term to describe what I am. I am an American citizen, and I have spent more than half of my life in the UK. My mother is Cuban and though I have never been to Cuba, I feel more connected with my Cuban heritage than with my American past.

    I have come to the conclusion that the place I belong is the place I identify with. I love this country. I love my ancestry. I doubt it’s something I will understand fully, and it’s confusing when I go back to Texas, struggle to speak Spanish or get asked where I’m from.

    Most of my friends don’t understand that confusion either, but they always comment on how lovely it is that I have an accent, or can speak another language or can cook yummy Cuban food for them. I feel privileged and proud to be diverse rather than burdened with an inner cultural crisis.

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