Living Between Worlds

Picture this: you’re at a classic New England lobster bake, the salty breeze dancing through the pines, when someone asks, “Sailing today or just hiking?” Meanwhile, your mind is still half a world away, replaying scenes from midnight strolls along cobblestone streets in Bath, England. It’s not just jet lag lingering after my year abroad; it’s this quiet yet constant tug-of-war between worlds, identities, and the expectations entwined with each.

But here’s the thing they don’t tell you about living between two worlds: it’s not all passport stamps and poetic sunsets. It’s messy, hilarious, and often a little awkward, like trying to find your footing on the slippery deck of a schooner. Whether you’re managing family traditions with modern quirks, juggling distinct social circles, or simply trying to figure out what truly feels like home, you’re not alone. Let’s explore this tightrope walk, navigating those in-between spaces with humor, grace, and maybe a glass of Pinot Grigio on standby.

Anchored in Tradition, Pulled by Curiosity

Growing up in Kennebunkport meant certain unspoken rules: blue-and-white striped boat shoes were a wardrobe staple, historical trivia was everyday dinner fodder, and Saturday mornings were for browsing the farmer’s market. Life was deeply rooted in tradition—the kind that feels as comforting as the smell of sea spray after a storm.

But, after a year of wandering English hills, walking through centuries-old cathedrals, and chatting over pints in dimly lit pubs, I returned home feeling like I’d suddenly outgrown the narrative I’d once fit so snugly into. I'd learned to love Marmite (well, tolerate it), developed a mild obsession with Jane Austen-era etiquette, and found my tongue holding onto subtle British inflections, betraying my seacoast origins.

Staying put in your world of origin suddenly feels a little stifling, but uprooting it entirely? Just as terrifying. Much like navigating a relationship where one partner loves binge-watching period dramas and the other lives for Marvel blockbusters, it can be tricky to give both identities equal air.

How to Stay Afloat:

  • Blend, Don’t Bulldoze. Incorporate pieces of your “new” world into the old one. Invite coworkers or friends to a British-style afternoon tea—bonus points if you can locate scones better than hockey pucks.
  • Stay Curious. While traditions provide roots, curiosity gives wings. Remind yourself that it’s not about “choosing” one world over the other—it’s about letting them coexist, even if it results in the occasional cultural whiplash.

The Double Vision of Relationships

Your personal life isn’t immune to this world-straddling chaos either. Case in point: dating. During my time in England, I met someone who adored quoting Keats in casual conversation and once baked a Christmas pudding flambéed with enough brandy to make a ship’s captain blush. They couldn’t, however, comprehend the life-or-death importance of dunking a fresh lobster in molten butter at peak summer. It was an English-meets-Yankee romance with all the charm of a rom-com, but one that fizzled when the cultures consistently collided.

Fast forward to New England, where potential suitors often assume I’m as provincial as my lobster-pot-laden Instagram feed. Those drunkenly shouted pick-up lines like, “What’s your favorite lighthaaaahse?” at local bars suggest that beauty lies not in subtlety but an overuse of vowels.

Bridging these gaps with partners or friends means putting in the work—whether it’s giggling about our clashing slang terms (did you know “pants” means underwear across the pond?) or finding common ground amid our differences.

Pro Tips for Relationship Harmony:

  • Meet Each Other’s Worlds. If your partner’s the type to obsess over the NFL while you’re all about vintage BBC dramas, find a middle ground. Watching Ted Lasso is basically a relationship compromise in TV form, right?
  • Laugh. A Lot. Blending cultures, habits, or mindsets is bound to come with misunderstandings, like the time I had to explain why “leaf peeping” is entirely appropriate fall behavior in Maine, not some creepy woodland act.

The Gap Between Expectations and Reality

Sometimes, living in between isn’t about culture—it’s about balancing the person others think you are with the truth of who you’re becoming. For me, this hit hardest post-college, when I returned to coastal Maine with a slightly updated worldview and a wink more confidence. Suddenly, everyone from my childhood barista to family friends had well-meaning questions like:

  • “Are you thinking of opening a nautical bookstore? Someone should!”
  • “Still single? Don’t worry, there’s time for that.”
  • “Did you gain a British accent, or is that just Bowdoin’s influence?”

Here’s the kicker: nobody means harm when they nudge at your identity. But when you’re straddling two different places—or faces—you’ll feel stretched, like trying to fit historical maritime maps into a carry-on bag.

Tackling Expectations Without Losing Your Cool:

  • Know When to Nod and Smile. Someone asks when you’re finally settling down? Swap out an eye-roll for, “Oh, I’m busy settling into myself right now.” Assertive and slightly cryptic—it’s a win-win.
  • Be Comfortable Saying ‘I Don't Know.’ Life isn’t static, nor are you. It’s okay not to have the answers, the neat little boxes checked off, or crystal-clear “whys” for every decision.

The Beauty in the In-Between

What I’ve found most comforting in my own “between-ness” is the art of finding belonging—not in places, social groups, or even identities—but in moments. There’s the thrill of curling my fingers around the damp wood of a ship’s tiller, then savoring a rainy afternoon with a strong Earl Grey in hand. It’s realizing I’d rather be a person who can enjoy Maine’s butter-dripped seafood and a proper English roast over someone who feels forced to “pick a lane.”

You might feel like a puzzle piece whose edges don’t fully lock into any one place or identity. But here’s the truth: those jagged edges? They’re room for stories, for growth, for clumsy, glorious imperfection. Instead of straining to fit, celebrate the fact you’re living a double feature instead of a single-channel rerun.

And if all else fails, remember this ocean-inspired mantra I tell myself during moments of tension: even the tide doesn’t stay loyal to one shore. So be kind to yourself as you ebb and flow.

Final Thoughts

Navigating two worlds can feel like walking a plank suspended over unpredictable waters. But there’s also magic in learning to balance both feet, in using one world to enhance the other, and in telling stories that stretch between the two. Living between worlds isn’t about being indecisive or unanchored—it’s about embodying the best of both shores.

So whether you find yourself traversing cities, cultures, or simply different ideas of who you are, my advice is this: take the best parts with you. Sail the waters confidently. And, when in doubt, never pass up the butter.