They told me I would feel this way.

Listless, bored, irritable, anxious, can't sleep, lack of interest, no sense of purpose...

They told me I would feel this way. I didn't believe them. I was sure other people may feel that way (you know, the wimpy, helpless people without my natural buoyancy and sense of adventure), but not me. I laugh in the face of culture shock! Ha, ha, ha, ha.

Now culture shock is laughing back.

Figures.

I feel like Eeyore:

"Good morning, Pooh Bear ... if it is a good morning ... which I doubt." 

Yep, that's me. Eeyore.

I know it is perfectly normal to feel this way. Studies show that predictable stages occur when people enter a new culture, country, or environment. The steps involved are:

• The honeymoon stage. When you first arrive in a new culture, differences are intriguing and you may feel excited, stimulated and curious. At this stage you are still protected by the close memory of your home culture.
• The distress (disintegration) stage. A little later, differences create an impact and you may feel confused, isolated or inadequate as cultural differences intrude and familiar supports (e.g. family or friends) are not immediately available.
• Re-integration stage. Next you may reject the differences you encounter. You may feel angry or frustrated, or hostile to the new culture. At this stage you may be conscious mainly of how much you dislike it compared to home. Don't worry, as this is quite a healthy reaction. You are reconnecting with what you value about yourself and your own culture.
• Autonomy stage. Differences and similarities are accepted. You may feel relaxed, confident, more like an "old hand" as you become more familiar with situations and feel well able to cope with new situations based on your growing experience.
• Independence stage. Differences and similarities are valued and important. You may feel full of potential and able to trust yourself in all kinds of situations. Most situations become enjoyable and you are able to make choices according to your preferences and values.

— adapted from Robert L. Kohls' Survival Kit for Overseas Living

I'm definitely in the disintegration stage.

That's a good name for it. Disintegrate.

Disintegrate |disˈintəˌgrāt| (verb) meaning break into small parts, typically as the result of impact or decay: Susan's iMac hard drive disintegrated and could not be recovered after five weeks on the Lagos power grid; weaken or break apart: Susan's hope disintegrated when she found out her children were still on the wait list two weeks before school started; deteriorate mentally or physically: Susan disintegrated into hysteria when the dog bit her.  

You get the idea.

Synonyms include "fall apart, fall to pieces, fracture, shatter, blow apart, crumble, molder, perish, collapse, degenerate."

Yep, I like those words. Brings to mind Patsy Cline. Sing with me, readers!

I fall to pieces.
Each time someone speaks your name.
I fall to pieces.
Time only adds to the flame.

Well, enough wallowing. As I skulked about the house around 3 a.m. last night, peeking in on my sleeping children, I was reminded why I made the decision to move in the first place. It was my children. I wanted to be able to spend more time with them. I wanted to stop working full time and give this whole full-time mom thing a shot. And I love it. They are so worth it. I know this will pass.

In the meantime, I leave you with a quote from my alter ego, my other self, my curmudgeonly comrade, my churlish chum, my voice... Eeyore.

"One can't complain. I have my friends... Someone spoke to me only yesterday."