Europe is My Home

For the past several years I've had a bit of an identity crisis (not one where I don't know who I am and stuff you see in movies) but one where I didn't really know where I belonged. I was born in Europe but I live in America. All my family, save my parents, are in Europe. Poland to be exact. I may not remember much about when I lived there because we moved to America when I was two years old, but I do feel very drawn to my home country.

I went to Polish school since kindergarten up until graduation (which was in 11th grade or a junior in high school) and we spoke Polish at home. Polish was my first language, my first words were spoken in this wonderful language. Everything we had was European: the food, the clothes, the traditions, even the television shows at one point. It was as if we never left Poland to begin with. I knew who my relatives were and I read, wrote and spoke in Polish. My name was written in Polish on all my school records and I had even visited Poland at least three times before I turned 13.

That's when it happened. When I was 13, I became ashamed of my name, of my culture, of the food we ate. I was being made fun of in middle school and I thought it was because of who I was. So, I made my parents put down my American name on school records so teachers wouldn't struggle trying to pronounce my name and I made them buy me American food like wonder bread and bologna. I lost myself, I became someone new completely. I threw away my identity and wanted nothing to do with where I came from.

During high school, I thought I had make the right decision in Americanizing myself, but looking back... boy was I wrong. 

Now that I'm in college, I use my Polish name again. My real name. Even my boyfriend calls me by my real Polish name. I eat Polish food, or at least try to, I'm trying to relearn the language so I can be as fluent as I used to be. I write to my mother in Polish and we text in Polish. Even though I do not talk to my family in Poland anymore, mostly because I'm ashamed of how bad my Polish is and I'm afraid they will make fun of me (ironic, huh?), I still find ways to use my language and become better at it.

My mom once told me, during the years of crying and anger at her for making me waste every Saturday morning for 12 years, that I'll once thank her that she forced me to go to Polish school. I always looked at her as if she was crazy and said those words would never come out of my mouth. But, she was right. I am thankful for every painful second spent behind closed doors while other kids were playing, I only regret not taking it more seriously. During those years, I met some of my closest friends, some of whom came and went. Not only did I meet wonderful people, but I learned about my home and my culture. I learned about who I was, and only now I can appreciate that. I miss it, I really do.

This brings me to why I am writing about this... Every year I beg my parents to help me pay for a ticket to go to Poland, but since it's so expensive, I can never go. I tell them I want to go back to see my relatives and see my home, but it's so much more than that. I was obviously ripped from my home and didn't even get a chance to fall in love with it, I did so overseas. I have dreams of returning and living amongst my relatives and the wonderful landscape that surrounds the country. I am bitter towards America because I view it as what divided me from my home. My parents did this for me, they wanted to give me a chance, which I am more than grateful for. I did meet my boyfriend here so maybe some things were meant to be. But I have everything I need now.

Now I can make my own choices, I can choose to go back to Poland if I want, but the thing is, I wouldn't be able to thrive there anymore. I've lost the language and the culture. I can't read and write as well, but then I look back and think of how my parents came here. They didn't know the language at all but they came here because of love. They forced themselves to adapt and learn the language so I could have a better life. But maybe, this place doesn't hold that "better life" anymore. So, if I really wanted to, I could go back to my home. I guess I'm just afraid.

But, I will go back. Some way or another, I will go back to Europe.

I am Polish. I am European. No one can tell me otherwise. I am proud of who I am and where I came from.

NOTE

People often ask me "Well what's so great about Poland/ Europe?" and I have nothing to say most of the time except for, "It's my home, it's where I came from and I miss it." Which may or may not be enough of an answer. But, basically, I like the lifestyle better. I like that you can walk a mile and be in the mountains breathing in fresh air. I love how it takes only a couple hours to visit the greatest countries in the world. I love how much history Poland and Europe in general has. I love everything about it. Yes, Poland has a lot of poverty and life probably sucks there as much as it does here but I'm not happy here, and never will be. That's the difference.  

Now, keep in mind, I am NOT telling people how to feel. This is my personal opinion which I have thought through hundreds of times and it stays the same every time I go through it. Everyone has their own feelings about where they think is best. Like I said above, I am happy my parents gave me this opportunity, I just don't think I can ever be happy away from my home country.