Reverse Culture Shock Is the Dark Side of Living Abroad

No one talks about it, but I'm ready to.

- By Hannah Chubb

There are turning points in life that you remember with more clarity than you'd like. One of mine: June 29, 2016, when I was certain I was dying. It was 3 a.m. and I was in Amsterdam, at the end of a six-month study abroad stint. In just a few hours, I was supposed to board a flight home to Canada, yet there I was. Hot cheek pressed against a cold toilet seat, gasping for air. Shaking so intensely that I was-between bouts of vomiting-grateful for the international student insurance I'd surely need for an ambulance ride to the ER.

It was the first panic attack I'd ever had. I had no idea it wouldn't be my last.

Half a year earlier, I'd gladly left my university's Montreal campus behind. My school was known for making students feel like success was always just a little out of reach (it's one of the top colleges in the world...and we were constantly reminded of that fact). I needed a break from the pressure. The Netherlands beckoned, and in Amsterdam, I found the relief I craved. Sure, I took a few sociology classes, but in those six months, what I really did was see the world for the first time. I discovered commonalities that spanned cultures (turns out, we're all just looking for someone to enjoy an Aperol spritz and reality TV with) and found a family in friends from places I'd never heard of (I now have a couch to crash on in almost every continent). I fell in love with a city, with a boy (spoiler: he's still in the picture), and with a way of life that was slower, more joyful, and somehow more meaningful than anything I had known.