This is where I have always wanted to be

Two days before Christmas, the city I live in experienced the most freezing temperatures. If a minus 17 Celsius degree doesn’t bother someone who was born and raised in the cold, please excuse me because it was my first time ever since I came from a tropical-like country.

The two nights involved not much snow, but the temperature was so cold that every existing water droplet looming in the air seemed to freeze. Looking out of the window at night, I couldn’t make out if the flickering flakes reflecting the street light were rain or snow.

On Christmas morning, the sun shone brightly and a light blue occupied the sky. The temperature was still under zero Celsius, so I stayed inside, appreciating the hot homemade latte in my hands, the deep serenity that was only a wall of windows away, and the security our house provided that shielded us from the freezing air.

The chilling yet sunshine Christmas day in our backyard.

When last year I signed the house contract, I still had many graduate school responsibilities to do — it was one month before my doctoral defense and my dissertation wasn’t finished, I was wrapping up a journalism internship, and I wasn’t sure what job I would take after graduation. There was a lot going on in my life and I didn’t even think about the fact that I was about to own my first house. On the signing day, the fact of being a house owner made me wonder: how soon would I be settling down and most importantly, finding a sense of belonging in a new town?

The town where we moved has several similarities to the small town where I grew up. On a sunny day, the sky is usually clear and light blue. Houses with one or two floors are visible in the distance. Some neighborhoods have a narrow space between houses while others have only a single house within sight. Trees are much smaller and younger in my childhood hometown because of the frequent typhoons visiting, while the trees in this area sometimes can track back hundreds of years old.

Growing up, I imagined a backyard with grass and running dogs. I’d sit in my light-filled living room, admiring the sunlight pouring in through the windows. Now I’m sort of living in that dream — a backyard where my two toddlers (rather than a Husky or a Golden Retriever) run and play, but it’s way cooler and not the country where I speak my mother language.

Language differences are one of the barriers to a sense of belonging when immigrating to a foreign country. I began to learn English at the age of 12 and, regretfully, the years spent on formal education and informal training didn’t fully equip me with the fluency to express myself when I started my doctoral program at 30. Whether it’s because I was schooled in the laboratory or I’m a visual learner, I had a better chance to successfully communicate my point if it could be done through a hands-on process.

But that’s not most situations.

I’d have to talk in a meeting, in a class discussion, or in an informal gathering that focused on networking that required interpersonal connection and verbal clarity. Even in the laboratory where I taught my major in chemistry, I couldn’t always have the time capacity to do hand-by-hand demonstrations with students. In an old building where the noise was usually roaring, my voice projection, compounded with my accent and inaccurate pronunciation, made meeting people and working on passions feel more like isolation rather than connection.

Instead of leaving it as a barrier, I tried making the process of learning the language an opportunity for many new doors and perspectives.

I found that I enjoy small group settings and that one-on-one meetings usually result in a positive experience, though approaching someone and asking for a private appointment is intimidating, whether it’s in person face-to-face, as was common before 2020, or virtually, as we have done for almost 3 years. I enrolled in a private speech program to improve my pronunciation, which challenged my self-esteem to confront the mistakes I have made in the past. I started an uncomfortable effort to nominate myself to write for various platforms and audiences — fortunately, the exposure led to opportunities such as being selected to work as a science journalist through a competitive fellowship this year.

Up to this point, I’ve decided to try balancing the dual passions as a scientist who keeps on the technical expertise and as a science writer who types away thoughts — either my stories or other stories that need to be told.

Earlier this year, I struggled to find more writing gigs and felt rejected after finishing the fellowship work. As if my discouraging experience in my first couple of years in the states had come back to haunt me. But taking the time and making the intention to observe the progress — I have a full-time job that supports my interests, family, and my possessions, and I have the option to express myself through writing and other forms of communication, all of which the 5 years younger me wouldn’t have seen coming.

I think I’m where I’ve always wanted to be.

* First appeared in Medium blog.