Everyone says going abroad changes your life, and to some degree, it does for everyone in one way or another. Whether your worldview is challenged, you fall in love, you learn a new language, or you experience something out of your comfort zone, you really don’t know how much a place has changed you until you realize you have to leave it. For me, it was life re-defining because I had found a place where I belonged. I never thought I’d buy into the whole socialist ideology, the cold, long winters, or the weird sounding language, but I did. And I didn’t just do along with it either, I dove right in.
I found Denmark to be the kind of place where I want to be young, to work, to raise a family, and to grow old. I want to ride my bike to work, have five hour candlelit dinner parties, spend the weekends chasing my future kids around Fælleparken or spending hours curled up in a hyggeligt apartment. In Denmark, I found the opportunity to live a life as full or empty as that. I found a life where my profession is respected and acknowledged and worthy of something, where I could be the best teacher I’ve always wanted to be. I found a life where children are independent, self sufficient, creative, and kind, and willing to set limits for themselves because they know what they can do. I found a life where relationships are partnerships, equality reigns, and motherhood is embraced. Maybe my brother was right; maybe I was always meant to live in Europe.
Of course, I have many people to thank for making my journey possible in the first place. As in love as I was with Denmark and Europe, I should by no means discount the value and the experiences of my home life in Pennsylvania. Because at the core, that is what has shaped me probably more than anything else. I had to be Pennsylvania me before I could become Danish me. I know I am lucky to have studied abroad. I know I probably never would have made it to Denmark if I wasn’t that lucky. I know how hard my family worked to support me, how hard I worked to get there, and how much my parents have done for me to experience as much life as I can so that I may hold the world in the palm of my hand. I know how many people back home wanted to stay in touch, supporting me during my abroad journey and asking questions along the way so they too could experience a glimpse into life abroad. I can only hope that now, in light of my re-adjustment to life in America, my friends and family will continue to acknowledge how I have grown and will accept me, listen to me, and help me to take ownership of who I am: Danish and all. As I feel my identity shifting, as I feel myself subconsciously musing in French or addressing my parents in Danish, I realize that I have internalized more of Europe than I thought. As I feel myself become more worldly, I have to rediscover what it means to be American as well, and to what degree I want to accept or reject, or simply re-define what that means to me.
I think the worst thing to happen when you come home from an abroad experience is to be denied the chance to explain, to tell stories, to try to describe what it was like, to be denied the time to struggle with articulating just how incredible and different things really were. I might feel unacknowledged or misunderstood or culture shocked at times, but to have the chance to write, to reflect, and to recall, is as special as anything my friends and family could give me back home.
But it’s true; nothing will entirely bring it all back. I’ve got thousands of pictures, videos, postcards, and memories, but it really is time to accept that I will never get Copenhagen back the same way I had it. It doesn’t mean I’ll never get it back, just that it’s time to accept that all good things must come to a close. It 
In some ways, now having been home for almost two months, I acknowledge that maybe it’s time I grow up and get over it. But that’s what abroad does to you. You never get over it. You catch some sort of unshakable addiction, something that leaves you wanting more, something that perpetually lingers in your imagination. Some call it wanderlust. And when you step off that plane, after however many hours you tried to console yourself during the flight, you are suddenly faced with the enormous responsibility of preserving four or five months of memories and experiences. And not just that, but also neatly packaging and sorting them into tangible, coherent bits of conversation, pieces by which some impossible way will serve as lenses through which anyone who hasn’t lived with you for the past however many months can attempt to understand and see your abroad experience the way you do. I remember dreading the inevitable question: “So, how was studying abroad?” How could I possibly do justice to the experience with words? “It was great”? It really is so much more than that. It was lonely sometimes; it was tough, maddening, uncomfortable, and even heartbreaking. But mostly, it was beyond everything I could have imagined.
It stretched me, molded me, threw me, caught me, and put me exactly where I think I am intended to return. At no small cost, of course, but nonetheless, in a way that charmed, challenged, and changed me in ways I didn’t even pick up on until the last few weeks of the program, and am still discovering now. There’s a routine to your abroad experience, no matter where you are living. There’s a pace of life, an outlook, an ease as flawless as the Danish women on bikes. It thoroughly and undeniably absorbs you. So much so that when it’s time to leave, I felt like I was being naturally uprooted from my home. It wasn’t the end of a holiday, it wasn’t a “Well that was a nice vacation, but now it’s time to go home.” In some ways, coming home felt like an abrupt re-encounter with reality.
Of course, because I am American at heart, I remember complaining to my friends that we would be expected to just settle right back into life as we knew it before. People would question why we weren’t thrilled to be home, to be back in the United States, “the best country in the world”. I worried people would wonder what my strange fascination was with Denmark of all places or jokingly ask if I’d become a socialist, if I’d purposefully discarded every piece of colored clothing in my wardrobe, or if I’d dyed my hair blonde for a reason. I worried it wouldn’t make sense to anyone, that they would ask over and over what Denmark’s deal is, and I would have to serve as the official spokeswoman for a country of 5.5 million people – so no matter what I had to say, or wanted to say, it had to be good.
The truth is, it takes time, but it does eventually get better. Give your friends and family time to digest what you share with them. They may never truly understand your experiences the way you want them to, but if they show interest, let them get out of your experiences what is meaningful to them. Some days, you may find yourself instantly reminded of something that happened during your time abroad and you’ll feel something like loneliness or heartache. But that’s when you call on the friends you made abroad. Chances are they are facing something very similar. We all do.
On the days when I miss Copenhagen the most, I picture a scene from my last day in Denmark. I was sitting on a bench by the lakes in Nørrebro in late May, still wearing black pants and a stripped shirt, white converse now a hazel grey, a leather jacket and scarf with an enormous Danish designer bag by my 
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How was your experience returning from overseas? We’d love to hear your story and experiences. Leave us a comment below!
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