Posted in life

Feelings of an immigrant…… πŸ€·β€β™€οΈ

Hello readers,

While struggling with my reading, for no particular reason, I thought that writing about different topics might keep me connected with you all. There are so many interesting subjects that I want to write about and I hold myself because I’m afraid that I might offend someone with my words.

Today’s topic is pretty simple yet pretty intense: feelings of an immigrant. πŸ€·β€β™€οΈ

I moved to Canada some years ago at 19 years old. At that time my parents gave me the choice to stay in Romania but with the possibility that I might not see them for a long time and if I ever want to join them the immigration process might be long and complicated and not necessarily positive. Because I am very close to my mother and I couldn’t imagine myself living far away from my family, I decided to follow them and move an ocean away.

I can tell you that the moving process was exciting and scary and very stressful. When you live in a country like Romania, you think that moving to Canada is the best thing that can happen to you. All of the sudden, by flying over the ocean, all life problems disappear. Until you arrive to your destination and reality kicks in….😐

All of the sudden you realize that there are no money growing in trees and that no, not everyone is rich, there are actually poor people just like back in your country. There is the cultural shock as well. You see, when you migrate as an adult, or young adult, you have to adjust to a whole new world. Everything you knew up to then is questioned. Sure you can simply be the way you were back home but trust me that it will only bring you frustration. You have to start accepting things that you never thought you had too. And you have to accept that living in a multicultural country means that you are not the center of your world anymore.

Where I live, French is the first language and English is accepted but not tolerated by all. I didn’t speak French so it was not easy to adapt and speak to those around me. Luckily I have a facility of learning new languages so I can proudly say that I’m pretty good with the French language now. 😎

The problem stays in feeling like you belong. I sometimes feel the need to look around and see my country. Sometimes I feel the need to take the train and go and visit my grandmother. Sometimes I feel the need to hear people around me speak in Romanian. People ask me all the time where I’m coming from. Some lady told me “Welcome to my country”, just because I have a foreign accent. I’ve been in “her country” for years now. πŸ™„ A friend, that is born here, told me that he will probably never be considered 100% Canadian, because of his origin. People assume that I’m from some Latin American country because of my skin tone and my accent. They start talking to me in Spanish, assuming that they know my origins. I feel lucky to be in Canada but sometimes it’s just exhausting and overwhelming.

Some people are going to think that if I’m so concentrated on these things maybe I should go back to my country or maybe I should just realize how lucky I am and stop complaining. Those people should just close their mouth because they are probably part of the people that make me feel like I don’t belong. 🀐

I suppose that the message that I’m trying to bring is that there is a place for everyone in this world. We are all different and we all have a different story behind us. We should stop focusing so much on the origin of a person and make that person feel that they belong between us. I don’t need to be told how much you are welcoming me in your country, I need to feel it. And by the way, Canada is one of the countries that exists today because of immigrants…which makes most people born here…well, foreign.

Hopefully one day people will just accept people…πŸ€·β€β™€οΈπŸ˜Œ

Thanks for reading!

CB. πŸ§šβ€β™€οΈπŸ₯°


*Bitmoji pictures ❀*

Author:

I am a girl, a woman, a mother trying to enjoy life as much as I can. This is a personal blog with and about books, life, introverts and more. πŸ“–πŸ‘©β€πŸ’ΌπŸŒŸπŸ§šβ€β™€οΈ

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