Culture shock is like...

I’m realizing that with a lot of my culturally-related frustrations or rather alarming experiences, I deal with them reasonably well in the moment. Well enough, in fact, that I may not actually realize how frustrating they actually are to me. Then at the end of the day, I might, say, burst into tears. Or snap unreasonably at a small child who perhaps had a very reasonable request. Or struggle to keep my eyes open once I sink into a chair. I think, why in the world am I behaving this way?

My mind responds, Well, it could be that. Oh. Yeah. And it was definitely a little of that. And what about that? As my mom would say, it’s a little like being pecked to death by a duck.

Thankful for new mercies every morning that are just right for that day.