Small Shoes or Big Feet?

Growing up in Sri Lanka, I could never find shoes that fit me. So as a little girl into frills, flowers and numerous pink objects I had to resort to sports shoes, flip flops, loafers, and other plain and dull shoes people with big feet were left with. In fact one particular Christmas my mother and I had spent an entire day searching for a pair of shoes for my feet, that one harassed shop worker told my mom to buy a pair of sandals with a thick plastic strap in front and make me wear them daily so my feet would stop expanding and hopefully shrink into an acceptable size. Even as a teenager I often had to have my shoes custom made. However, with the local shoe maker being tardy, blunt and careless, whilst the services of creative ones were far too expensive, finding a shoe that fits and looks good became an equation determined by opportunity cost and always resulting in frustration. Then, something life changing happened, literally...

I left the country and moved to the United Kingdom to pursue my higher education, at a magical place called Keele, up in Staffordshire. Suddenly, finding shoes was as simple as walking into the closest New Look, Primark or Peacocks, and buying a pair. I could fit into any shoe between UK sizes 6 1/2 - 7 1/2 (which was pretty average) and before I knew it I had 24 pairs. I bought them from summer sales, charity shops and ebay, and as money flowed after summer jobs I even shopped at Marks & Spencer and 21 Forever, which was very upscale for my humble student lifestyle. I had Pencil Heels, Boots, Trainers, Ballet Shoes, Sandals, Flip flops and Wellys of all different colours decorated with diamante, flowers, frills and bows. I moved houses 16 times during the 4 years I stayed in the UK and took all 24 pairs of these shoes with me.

This compatibility was not limited to my feet. I went down a few dress sized and could not only find clothes that fit but also wear them without the fear of being stared at or catcalled. My naturally Goldilocks type curly hair which was tied, tamed and never kept loose for over two decades was now free and flowing with people actually complimenting me and saying bizarre things like "I wish I had hair like yours. Mine is so boring!". I was no longer "too tall or too dark for a girl" for my height was average, skin 'exotic toffee caramel' and mainly because nobody gave a rat's ass. I suddenly fitted right in!

I was in love with the food, the culture, the liberal yet controlled way of thinking, how individuality and privacy was valued and encouraged whilst cohesion happened at the most unexpected moments (i.e. Royal Wedding, University Tuition Fee Rise, Football). Commuting in the tube, stand up comedy, pub crawling, musicals, farmer's markets all had a code of conduct and almost a life of its own. Accents as diverse as hair colour filled my ears along with music from buskers down South Bank or Manchester high street. UK was treating me so well that once over a beer when asked if I ever faced culture shock I replied, "You know I absolutely did not. It felt as if I was searching for something all my life and suddenly I found it. This was it". I still remember vividly how the friend I was sharing the drink with looked at me for a while and said, "You know what, it sounds almost like love. I think you are in love".

Then it struck me. Yes, I was in love with England. I loved the people, the places, the stories, the banter, queuing, clubbing, rain, snow, holding doors open, scones, giant mugs of tea and many many other things I could go on and on about. I passionately loved everything and was buzzing with ecstatic optimism that I eventually became delusional and distant from the reality, being my stay in England was temporary. I never imagined having to return to Sri Lanka (note I didn't say home 'cause it stopped feeling that way the moment I left), thus never prepared myself for the experience of going back. Eventually after a string of misfortune made of tightening immigration laws and job rejections I was forced to fly back to Sri Lanka leaving 18 pairs of beloved and well worn shoes behind along with even more friends, memories and most importantly happiness, freedom and content.

It's been a year since returning and the 6 pair of shoes I'be brought back have just about lasted. I'm back to not only too tall and big but also too smart, too loud and too liberal for a girl. Simple things such as jogging, online purchasing and printing have become a luxury and between beating time difference to keep in touch with friends dispersed globally, lethal commute to work and back which takes upto 5 hours and searching for a way out of the country, life seems to just pass by at a monotonous pace. I don't know which was worse. Realizing I was struggling from an acute case of chronic reverse culture shock or having no one to turn to for help. People, mostly family, would say things such as "just get over it", "be grateful for what you had/have", "when in rome...." etc. oblivious to the fact that I had not spent 4 years on a holiday abroad but rather built and lived a life in a place with real people whom I developed strong sentimental connections with. All the moments of silent tears late at night or locked up in the bathroom went unnoticed, as each day became a battle from getting out of bed, going to work, smiling and getting back into bed.

After a year of following this painstakingly draining routine I have not found a method to cope with any of it nor have I got any advice to offer. But what I have found is feeling the way I do did NOT make me ungrateful, delusional or spoilt. The only reason for my happiness should not be the fact that someone somewhere has got it much worse than myself. There is a clear set of events which led to this situation and it is most definitely not my fault. Also I am not the only person who goes through the conflict of sense of belonging vs being accepted into a particular community. From all that I've researched I now know that there are many like myself who are lost in a no man's land as the place of birth, which no human being has control of in deciding, dictates their identity, life and fate. As a friend wisely claimed during an attempt to console me over skype recently, "Sometimes going abroad is like going to the moon. The experiences before and after are world's apart." Rightly said, as the way one perceived things as fundamental as 'home', 'happiness' or 'life' would have changed with often no going back. If you are reading this and are going through a similar experience or know someone else who does, please understand that 'reverse culture shock' is a thing, it's normal and it doesn't make you crazy to feel this way.

My ultimate goal for writing this article, apart from getting it all off my chest, is to convey the message that I understand your battle, the pain and frustration. Though we are often fighting it alone, please know that I along with many other tortured souls from around the world can empathize with you. I really hope as we struggle to find our way, society will stop throwing stones and sticks in our path. I am no longer worried about having big feet nor am I sure if shoes in Sri Lanka are absurdly too small. What I know for sure is that I just do not fit in...