Living Abroad to Escape Expectations

I have lived abroad in Southeast Asia nearly one full year now. People from home — balmy, halcyon California — still ask me what I’ve learned from leaving the country after graduation. 

Many of these conversations revolve around potential regrets (I have none) and decisions I would change if I could (also zilch here). But this doesn’t mean the path has been effortless or that I haven’t made mistakes. Stepping away from the people and places I’ve spent a whole lifetime with wasn’t easy. The transition of moving and living abroad comes with its own challenges, though these challenges are part of the reason to make the move.

I’ve encountered the usual suspects with my move overseas: homesickness, loneliness, uncertainty, feeling out of place, FOMO, and some professional and interpersonal cultural misunderstandings. 

Individually, each of these things are trifles; small, inconsequential happenings that are easily brushed off. Yet, when they repeatedly fall upon you all at once, and when you’re 7,000 miles from your support system, it makes for some trying moments. But the difficulties these past year have taught me far more than a job or Master’s program could have back home. Living abroad and making my way in a different country has been a profound, rich experience— no, education — that I couldn’t have found in a classroom or office.

Sometimes I’m asked if I’m a full-time traveler, or how do I make money if I’m on vacation year-round (Note: I still work full-time and I am not on a vacation year-round. But I do have access to a lot more Chinese food than I did before moving to Hong Kong). My reality is less shiny than the phrase “living abroad” betrays, but it’s been the most impactful life decision I’ve ever made.

My choice to forego graduate school and a job close to home is an anomaly among the peers I grew up with. No one else took a similar path. And why should they? Why should anyone? 

Straying from the norm invites criticism. Relationships can falter; character is tested. Challenges are inevitable and there is less security because there are less things within certainty. 

Many people are so established on a pre-set path, one they’ve been following so diligently the previous handful of years, it seems silly to stray. Especially immediately following graduation. All those late-night study sessions, stressful group projects, menial busy-work assignment—years of being a student all culminates with graduation and (hopefully) a job within a specified profession. 

Isn’t that the dream? Establish yourself early on, put your head down in the name of being “successful,” and keep on keeping on? That degree was no small feat. Why shouldn’t you put it to use right away and get paid?

The path you’ve been working towards is meant to be followed — I’m not questioning that. A degree is a praiseworthy achievement. The people around us — you and I included— expect us to continue on the path we’ve been working towards.

It’s reassuring knowing that so many people — those who know us and those who don’t—support this path both consciously and automatically. Doing what everyone expects and assumes we will do is secure. It’s comfortable and predictable. These aren’t bad qualities. They keep us sane. But there’s more to life than this.

This narrative of starting a career after college is further reflected in our culture, from movies and media to the materialism and the heavy emphasis on capturing a “respectable” career. Think of the annual career fairs on university campuses. All those resumes and CV’s you printed out. The anxiety catalyzed by not having a job lined up yet.  Think about the age of a typical college graduate. Twenty-one is four brief years removed from high school, three years removed from being allowed to legally buy a lottery ticket and, for some, barely a week removed from a diet of Cup Noodles and cold pizza.

At 21, how are we supposed to know enough about ourselves or life to make career decisions? 

Today, college students are expected to study for their degree within a certain field, their chosen path, and then the only “next step” that is talked about is to follow this path with expedience and diligence. There’s a whole side to this path that isn’t talked about often. 

This path is still going to be there whether you choose to start your career immediately or a year or two or ten years down the line. Your grades aren’t changing anytime soon and your academic accolades will stay put; there’s adventure to be had and growth to experience. 

The usual framework we are told to fill with our actions follows something like this: graduate college, start a career, achieve success and wealth. After spending nearly a year abroad and traveling to a dozen countries, I’ve learned to ask a new question:

Sure we can follow the usual framework, but why doesn’t anyone talk about what you could do in between those steps?

The space in between “graduate college” and “start a career” is assumed to be a blink of an eye. Who really is the arbiter of this space other than yourself? That space can be as lengthy and adventurous as you choose. We can expand this space beyond conventional wisdom. Why don’t college campuses host booths advertising anything other than steady career options? 

Starting a career will be available beyond the age of 21. Don’t buy into the expectation of rushing into a career (unless that’s what you want). The expectation is gradually fed to us as we progress through school, both furtively and explicitly. 

Careers are more narrow in scope than we anticipate; we have a lot more time than we think to pursue a career. There are certain experiences that cannot be fulfilled second-hand or read about in books. Sometimes it could help to, really, do anything that isn’t related to your field of study. After four years of engineering, biology, law, or education, wouldn’t it be nice to try something entirely new?

Stephen Richards put it succinctly,

“If you do what everyone else does, you will get what everyone else gets”

Removing yourself from your own expertise is uncomfortable. People tell us it’s unnecessary or a waste of time. (For example: “What would a chemistry student do with experience as a surf instructor in South America?” That depends: are you trying to quantify life experience or live it?) 

To me, doing something unconventional is the exact opposite of a waste of time — why would you not want to increase your competence within a disparate field? 

There are things to do other than starting a career immediately. Traveling and moving abroad aren’t the only options other than starting a career. Point in a direction that you want to point in, rather than one that you feel expected to point in. Try something new. Move towns. Move continents. 

Explore outside expectations — expectations of your own and of those around you. Do exactly what isn’t anticipated. Expand the space between the prescribed steps and begin your journey.