Feeling disconnected. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling for many people, but it generally doesn’t last. The first day or two on vacation in an unfamiliar place, the initial weeks in a new job, maybe even the first 4-6 months when you move to a very different country. It’s to be expected; not everything makes sense, you don’t know people, things are not how or where you expect them to be. But you eventually start to feel at home.
This really doesn’t explain my experience in Bucharest though. From the get-go I felt unwanted… a square peg in a round hole, if you will. The immigration process was long and frustrating, hindered by the idiocy of Brexit and an immigration service that really had no clue what to do, as the rules seemed to change weekly. It took from August until May to complete the process, during which time I ran out of 90-days-in-180 tourist visa status twice so had to return to the UK for months (during Covid).
Unlike many countries, Romania has no right-to-work policy for those on a dependent visa. What was automatic in Hong Kong, and straightforward in much of the world, is pretty much impossible here. So, for four years, until I was able to secure a sponsored role where I’m currently working, I was effectively jobless, trying to fill my time with social media creation, private music lessons, the odd bit of remote arranging / transcribing, and volunteering. My second stint, from February to April 2022, was actually the most rewarding, albeit for the worst of reasons: Russia’s invasion of Ukraine provided refugees to house, feed and provide for, and I actually felt useful for a time. But by summer that had all but dried up, and no deep connections had been forged.
One thing I wasn’t expecting when moving back to Europe was how ultra-conservative Romania is. Far from the body-freedom and healthy shame-free upbringing experienced in most of the continent, this country seems to fuse the worst of Russian orthodoxy and corruption with American conservative prudishness and unhealthy values into one stubborn and ugly culture. As a liberal, like Jesus was, this was immediately a bad fit for me socially and spiritually. Other than the ever-present state-supported Orthodox monopoly, with all that non-biblical baggage, the only church that has any significant presence here is very southern-state-American-style conservative evangelicalism, with all the accompanying heresy.
Nevertheless, I was a very active part of one of the churches here for quite some time, until the divide between their political stance and my faith became far too great to stomach anymore. It’s not the people there weren’t good people, and I still have many friends (some who I know share my discomfort) within that community. But as with any transient expat community, people only stay for a short while, and there’s been a noticeable shift away from where I see God is to where US Republicans claim God is, and that isn’t Christianity. So I had to move on. And that hurt.
Don’t get me wrong. We live in a nice apartment, get to travel more than many, and are fairly comfortable financially. I really enjoy my job much of the time, despite the inevitable challenges, and I’m well respected and good at it. But none of this has taken away from the underlying conviction that I’m in the wrong place. That feeling of disconnect. Not transitory, but deep and long-lasting. I’ve felt myself reverting to feelings I put behind me a decade ago, when I overcame my near-10-year battle with depression and self-loathing that I’ve called my “dark decade” in other writings. That’s put enormous strain upon my personal life and relationships.
Fortunately, I am blessed to have rediscovered in recent years a real sense of Godly peace in what makes me human, and how we should be living. I’ve written other pieces on this: on how minimalism can bring a healthier relationship with material possessions and digital distractions; on how we need to be part of tribes to live more effectively as communities, sharing life’s burdens, joys, love and so much more; on how rediscovering naturism not only restored my own relationship with my body, but is very clearly God’s chosen way for us to be, as countless friends across the world have reinforced. Body shame was a satanic principle in Genesis 3, and it remains so today.
And so, now what? To quote the Animals, “We Gotta Get Out Of This Place”. Or I have, at any rate. The life I’m living isn’t the life I need to live. I need to be somewhere with a healthy European attitude to the body, nudity, love and relationships. Somewhere with a more balanced attitude to the Gospel and what it means, biblically, to be Christian. Somewhere with massively reduced US influence, because that country has fallen away from any form of civilisation. Somewhere I can be me, both alone and connected to community.
And that is my prayer. Despite the billionaire crisis, Meta and Xitter falling to the Dark Side, Epstein and all the other mess we see in the news, I don’t believe the world is going to hell in a hand basket… it’s just that maybe you’re not where you need to be. I certainly am not. So I can’t help the disconnect. And we can’t exist in isolation. So maybe you, like me, need to re-find a sense of connect…