This is the thought that came into my mind, late one night on a hard week of missing my former home. 

These existential questions and residual bouts of nostalgia might be emblematic of something. Is it the five-month mark since departing from Sydney? Was it the uncharacteristically touching few words from my old housemate Rupert on our recent phone catch-up? Maybe these feelings have been amplified by the dermatology appointment I had this week (causing me to reminisce scarier moments of diagnosis Down Under), or my encroaching 32nd birthday. 

It most definitely could have been the letter from AU immigration, which arrived in my inbox Monday morning. My visa has been cancelled - due to my lack of employment in Australia - and while months have gone by, it reminded me that the chapter on Oz is finally and officially closed. Closed forever? Not necessarily! But this symbol, in a time of limited travel and pandemic constraints, made me yearn for access to the door into Sydney simply because it's locked -- for now. 

Over the past three years of living abroad, I spent a lot of time reflecting on what made me feel at home while living halfway around the world. That self-awareness is helping me now as I attempt to cultivate the life I wanted to create upon moving back to Cali. As an avid loyalist to my journal and nerdy goal-setter since childhood, I have determined eight areas that I want to cultivate in particular. I think they'll help me feel intentional, cozy, comfortable in my own skin, and supported along the way.

2. My home! I have looked forward to this milestone of living on my own for a while now. It's finally here - I'm in my own apartment! With the help of my sisters, parents and bro-in-law, I am nearly set up for the coziest homey space of "hygge" ever. I can rest, exercise, lounge, or host. I can bake, blend, create and even sit outside! Finally, I have countless blankets, candles and essential oils that will help me quite literally infuse Sydney into my home. ​​

3. My community - both old and new. I could not be more grateful to be minutes from the Welsh fam. Weekly dinner with the Brocks or routine backyard catchups have been the soul-fuel for my transition back home. While I am back in my home county and surrounded by friends from childhood and USC, it's been hard to reconnect with as many as I'd like during a pandemic. Luckily, I have Zoom trivia and Jackbox TV game nights lined up with my closest friends so I can stay in touch with them from around the world. 

4. My creativity. Something I've been missing is the hobby of embracing my tactile, analog creativity! Especially after long days of virtual collaboration and screen-time, I long to leverage my creative juices in the evenings. I can do this by way of crafting or puzzling. I've even started sorting my Sydney prints for a scrapbook-gallery wall, and assembling a photo collage on my fridge was a simple pleasure. My friend Sue sent me a jewelry-making mandala kit - which fittingly fits into multiple goals like my wellness and this one! 
​

​As I sit under the covers in my double bed at my Carp AirBnB, I don't want to ever forget exactly what this feels like. Despite the discomfort, nerves, sadness and longing - I know that it's a special feeling that's going to also fade before I blink twice. I am all showered and clean, a little overheated because I don't know how to control the water temperature quite yet. I'm wearing my Harry Potter PJ's from Peter Alexander, my sleepy lotion from Lush and my sterling silver moon from baby anything in Paddo. I'm also tired to the point of exhaustion, wired to the near point of delirium, and so ready for a hopeful twelve maybe ten hours of restful sleep after 24+ spent traveling.

I left Sydney on a rainy Friday morning after breakfast at Silk, almond flat whites and haloumi. I left with a quick hug from Pimm, lots of tears from Lou and Des, tight squeezes from Sim and Michelle too, and the perfect amount of time and love from Phil my fateful expat from 2010. I climbed into the lifts with Danielle and Becca just to venture down to the parking garage, where Dani had put her new Suburu for the night so that we could stay up late preparing, and talking, and packing, and crying a little. I did last minute things like write cards and make a photo collage for James and Rupert. I cuddled my giant Rupert bear, and drank Vuerve, and had dumplings and noodles from my favorite hole in the wall place across the street. I opted out of my all time favorite gelato, Messina -- but only because I had boba tea with James that day instead.

My goodbyes on Thursday were both sad and anti-climactic. I packed early while Charlee and I sipped coffee from Downstairs. I also hugged Liz, cuddled Scarlett and said bye to Wendy on the phone while staring over Coogee beach for the last time in a while. We had iced lattes and I walked to the edge of the boardwalk's lookout, only to remember doing the same eleven years before when I last set eyes on Sydney. Who knew that would be my first of two times saying goodbye?

As I sat with Liz and became overwhelmed by the daunting task of departing, I realized one of many lessons - that not only do I not have to do it alone, but asking for help lets others be more vulnerable and trusting in me right back. Liz told me so in her beautiful handwritten card, but she showed me so when she cried on her couch or let me into her life in the hard moments. I sat on her baby blanket that morning in Coogee and did the same, shedding tears and hyperventilating while Scarlett nursed happily. I gripped the beautiful pink and turquoise mug they gifted me. Liz also got me tall socks that say: Watch out, I'll fucking hug you.  I intend to keep those socks forever.

After my quick jaunt over to Coogee, I bid adieu to the girls and the beaches while heading home to transfer luggage to Fedex (and pay the cleaner). Our morning had been productive; the house was ready, my final possessions were on the balcony and James had deconstructed the bed so that I could sleep on it one final time (but so that L could also take it). Though I had wanted him to come over, spend time, help me take it apart and maybe break it down in the process... I'm confident that everything that happened that afternoon was as it should have been. No drawn out goodbyes; no awkward chemistry or latent sparks. I gave him my final love letter in the form of a very brief and casual card - he took his jumper and gave me a hug and texted me Friday to have a "safe flight Xx." Just like these strange feelings tonight, that unavoidable crush that's making my torso ache would soon fade too, slowly crystalizing into a fond and sexy memory.

Tonight i fought my jet lag by chatting with friends & my new landlord Debbie, and by heading to the beach for sunset. I ran back to grab by jacket because the coastal air told me I wouldn't be warm for long. I'm so glad I did because the ocean breeze off the waves was perfectly comfortable through my breathable sleeves. As I hit the sand and strode toward the tide for firm footing, I felt the ache and a lump surge into my throat as the day closed. I didn't want it to be my last day as abroad down under. Not yet. The moment I turned west, seeking that sunset on the horizon and wondering if I had made the right decision leaving one coast for another: two dolphins rose out of the water directly in front of me. My heart skipped so audibly that I laughed, swallowed tears and didn't decide -- I knew that they were the sign I hadn't known I was looking for. If I've asked God and the Universe lately to help me know I've made the right decision, She did so immediately and showed me that I won't be alone here. As I walked briskly, listening to my familiar tunes and checking out my new skyline where the sky meets the sea, the dolphin duo kept me company. What are the chances of this?

I think it's normal to feel the sticky discomfort of a new place, a bit of solitude, sadness for what's gone and nervousness for what's to come. Heck, I should know by now: I've done this a minimum of twice by leaving LA and SF.... more when you count the times away, in strange dorms and hotels and apartments that were not yet mine. Each time, I sit in curiosity and also ritual: praying, listening, watching familiar characters on TV and (tonight) lathering myself up in my favourite scent. I know that things will more than smell familiar soon.

Until then, I'll forever be abroad in mindset.

Xoxo,
​Abroad at Heart

Something I've been thinking about writing for WEEKS is the list of things that people never tell you. Who are "people," you may be asking yourself? The proverbial "they" -- the wiser and all knowing elders, the fellow expats, your friends who did something similar to you and perhaps moved abroad, built a life and moved home to their country of origin in order to be closer to [insert here: family, their calling, aging parents, better resources].

They don't tell you how bittersweet and weird it will feel moving back to the place you used to call home, yet so long ago. They don't tell you that your heart might feel split in two - divided by a chasm only x-thousand miles wide (and an ocean deep). They don't talk about the little things - seemingly mundane and too insignificant to possibly constitute "reverse culture shock." Am I petty for missing my coffee shop? My mattress? The Sydney coastal breeze?

I arrived on a sunny September morning after 15 hours in flight, twenty hours of travel combined. I walked through immigration at San Francisco International, reminiscent of many a work trip and morning spent looking for coffee through the fog of "the Mondays." I felt different this time, and yet immediately felt a piece of me so consumed by déjà vu that I was the same - transported back to age 25. I walked past the familiar terminals, acronyms and hanging symbol of red white and blue, realizing that I was back on home soil for the indefinite time being. It wasn't just a visit. I was moving "home" - but what did home mean, anyway?

My first weeks back as a SoCal resident have been smooth, familiar and yet sticky in the most unexpected places - like an old and comfy sweater discovered stuffed in the back of your closet or uncovered from under the bed after years, covered in dust bunnies. I drove on autopilot from the rental car hub up the 405-N, remembering college days and weekend drives to see my not-boyfriend in my early-twenties years. I connected to Bluetooth and called B, instantly grateful for the literal LUXURIES i hadn't had living in a hip metropolis for the past six years. Bluetooth and CarPlay? Starbucks drive-throughs? Don't mind if I do, I thought guiltlessly.

This year had been about choosing ease, after all.

I reflect constantly that there are parts and costs of traveling that people never tell you; they don't post them on Instagram or shout them from a giant-tree swing on their youtube travel vlogs. Traveling. home. is. HARD. Traveling period is taxing on the body, the soul, friendships, routine, our health, sometimes family, and unavoidably-- our wallets. But traveling home after time away is something that I have yet to read much about, and I want to know more.