By the time I post this the anniversary will have passed. But I wanted to write something about this experience I had. Some people might recognize the significance of the title, though I suspect only people living in Japan will know it right away. It’s certainly not a current hot topic in the United States. We have a few looming concerns on our mind though. To be fair.
3/11/2011 is the date when the largest earthquake ever recorded in Japan struck off the country’s northern coast. Even many miles south, in Tokyo where I was living, the earthquake was the most powerful I had ever felt or would feel again until the day I left. I hope I can go the rest of my natural life without ever experiencing a stronger one.
Over 15,000 people died from the resulting tsunami and nearly 3000 more people are still recorded as missing. Whole towns were wiped off the map. Swept out to sea. In the days around the event I remember hearing numbers as high as 30,000 victims. Imagine if ten 9/11 attacks happened at the same time except there was no one to blame and you understood that it could possibly happen again at any moment without warning.
Shortly after that, the nuclear power plant exploded.
I’m trying to say that it was a difficult time.
Looking back over my Facebook memories from this day I discovered a long post I wrote in 2015 on the four year anniversary. This makes it eight years now since the earthquake and much like radioactive isotopes, memories have something of a half life as well. A lot has changed for me in the years since I wrote that post, not the least of which was the fact that I moved away from Japan and back to the US.
Still getting used to that.
The earthquake itself marked a halfway point for my time spent in Japan as well. A week after the disaster was the fourth anniversary of my arrival at Narita airport. Four years later I reflected on the changes in my life that had occurred since the quake. Now here I am again, another four years gone by, doing it all over again.
My time in Japan doesn’t split into neat four year chunks, unfortunately. In 2015, I referred to Tokyo as my home. I remember it being a conscious decision on my part. I wanted to make a statement about how I felt living there. I had no idea that it would be less than a year until I had my early-mid life crisis and decided to leave Japan.
It’s been almost three years since I left now. It doesn’t feel like it, however. In a way the entire last four years have been a period of transition. My time in Japan is an indelible part of who I am. But to progress in life, I understand that I have to let go of it in a way. I need to build something here now, that’s what I decided to do over three years ago. I won’t lie and say it’s been easy. This third act has been filled with more worry and confusion than I had hoped.
Did I make the right choice? It’s still hard to say at the moment.
When the earthquake struck I worked at a place that called itself an English school but was in reality a daycare with English thrown in. I still remember one of the kids on our first day back crying as hard as she could because she didn’t want her mother to leave. All of the trains shut down the evening of the quake and the roads were at a standstill. Most people had to walk home. The girl was stuck at our school for hours before her parents could physically reach her.
She didn’t want to ever be left alone again.
That girl is probably in high school by now, along with most of the other children I taught. That’s the span of time we’re talking about here. In a lot of ways I’ve changed as well. In many others I have not.
Eight years ago I wasn’t sober. Now I am. I lived in Japan and now I do not. I used to teach English, now I am unemployed. My insecurities haven’t changed much, I’m just better at hiding them in public. Not great, mind you. But better.
This is the part where I begin to lose the point of the piece. I need to work on my rambling still.
The point is this. It’s been another four years since I examined my life centered on a pivotal moment in history. An examination that came on the fourth anniversary of said moment. Which occurred four years after my arrival in Japan. I guess I have a thing for repetition.
For those confused about the math that’s a span of twelve years. Or about an equivalent amount of time to my entire public school education. If my arrival in Tokyo was the start of 1stgrade, this would be my high school graduation. It’s kind of shocking to think about it in those terms if I’m honest.
The earthquake is effective for this examination since it falls close to several milestones of mine. I just wish I didn’t have to use such a horrible moment for this thought experiment. Those memories are the strongest, however. No escaping that fact.
What do I hope for in the next four years? Another Presidential term’s worth of time. It’s hard to say. If I simply look at my progression in the last third of this cycle, from the reflective Facebook musing to today, I have little to show in terms of progress. This is to be expected when you choose to start all over and try a new path. The tattoo on my arm says “Start a New Life” which I got as a reminder for moments like these.
Yet I struggle with the same issues of personal validation that I had when I left. I struggle to find a stable platform in which to grow on my own, much like I did in Tokyo. I feel like this is a common problem that people have and there is potential light peeking out from the end of the tunnel. But this piece is meant as a reflection of this moment in time.
At this point, I hope the next four years are more like the four that came after the quake. I made some serious upgrades between those two data points. The past four have been something of a holding pattern. I wish I could say I was blameless in that.
But I’m not.
Hopefully by 2023 I’ll have things sorted out.
Maybe…2027.
