The Identity Question

Living in Japan this past year and a half has been rather difficult for me. There is much that I love here but I must be honest; it's been some of the roughest times of my life. And it all revolves around the identity question I think. I suppose most people go through this sort of thing in their teenage years. But for me, since I have no roots and I've moved so often, I'm nearly constantly going through an identity crisis it seems. I thought I had worked through it a bit by this point, but then I took a test. The test is called the Intercultural Development Inventory and it measures whether you're in the unresolved, in transition, or resolved states of many different kinds of cultural sensitivities. I'll only mention my most interesting result- my encapsulated marginality score. I scored really low, only about half-way through the unresolved stage. An explanation:

"Issues in Encapsulated Marginality indicate that you are struggling with how to integrate your intercultural abilities with your identity. You may be asking yourself, "Now that I can shift my cultural perspective and behavior whenever I want, who am I anyway?" You are probably feeling some alienation from all cultures you know about, including your own. For instance:

• As a traditional-age or returning-adult student, you may have trouble making decisions about what to study, since everything seems equally interesting and important to one of the many careers that you are considering.
• In business situations, you may find yourself feeling separate from your co-workers and unable to identify with either the corporate culture or any of the national/ethnic cultures of which you may be a part."

That's pretty spot on. I've never really fit into any ethnic/national group and I've always known that I can't. I know full well I'll never quite belong on earth. Although it can be quite frustrating, I love my life and I wouldn't change the past. But I must admit, sometimes, hearing stories from those people who never left their own backyard, who knew everyone in their neighborhood, who were never seduced by the call of the jet engine or the allure of a train speeding around the bend...sometimes, I hear their stories and an unexpected pang of envy creeps in. Oh how blissful it must be not to wonder! What elation there must be upon seeing an untrodden path in the forest and not feeling obligated by the very blood in your veins to discover its destination! How marvelous it must feel to hear about mysterious far-off places and yet be content in a cubicle 9 to 5! Ah, but alas; that is not me. It seems I'll remain a wandering gypsy til my dying day.