Hey everyone. This is my first time ever penning down my emotions into words. I have no idea if I’ll continue this, but hey, if you want me to, maybe I’ll keep going!
Today, I want to talk about something most of us experience at some point—staying away from home. Yes, stepping out of your cozy, pampered life into the wild world! How does it feel? How does it change you? Well, let me share my experience.
I’ve had two major phases of leaving home. The first one was college. Ah, the hostel life. Now, I wasn’t one of those brave souls who waltz into the hostel like it’s their second home (though my college best friend did—she was the most talkative one!). Nope. I cried on day one, missing my mom like crazy (and embarrassingly, the whole hostel knew about it). But then, something wonderful happened. A senior gave me a hug, and it was like being wrapped in warmth and comfort. That moment helped me settle down a bit, and before I knew it, I was semi-okay. As days passed, I made friends, and college life happened.
Since my house was just 80 km away, I’d visit home every two weekends, or sometimes even every weekend. We had so many holidays back then; it wasn’t as hard as I had imagined. Then, lockdown happened, and the last two years of my college life were spent at home. That phase didn’t make me miss anything too deeply because I had the comfort of home during that time.
Now, here I am, torn between feeling like an independent adult and a homesick child who just wants their mom’s cooking. I switched companies and this time, there were no remote options (cue the dramatic music). The universe decided it was time for me to “grow up” and live on my own. The irony? When I first got a job, I desperately wanted to experience living away from home, in a new city, surrounded by strangers. It was all so thrilling—until it wasn’t. I hadn’t realized that over time, I got too comfortable with remote work. I was in my own shell, not wanting to leave my comfort zone. However, circumstances forced me to step out again.
When I first moved to this new city, my brother came along to help me settle in. I had no idea when I’d be back. There’s so much uncertainty about when you’ll return to that familiar home, to those familiar faces. With a heavy heart, I left the city, unsure of when I’d return. Luckily, one of my best friends from my ex-company had also switched jobs and was already in the city I was moving to, so he helped me settle in. But soon after, homesickness hit me like a wave. I missed home-cooked food terribly, I missed my mom every single day. There’s something about just seeing your mom that makes everything feel okay. It’s hard to explain, but it’s like mom is the medicine for every emotional wound.
And don’t get me started on the cultural differences! Everything here feels different—the language, the food, the way people interact. Sometimes, I feel like I’m in an entirely different country. It’s weird when everyone around you is speaking a language you don’t understand (the real test of adulthood). It’s isolating. But hey, I’m learning… slowly. The food here? Well, let’s just say I’m trying to get used to it, but nothing compares to the taste of home. I miss the smell of my city, the familiar streets, and everything that made it feel like home.
Now that I’m living on my own, I’ve realized how much my parents used to do for me. My dad used to bring everything I needed—now I’m the one running errands and taking care of myself. I have to let my parents know when I’m back from work because, yes, they still worry about me (they’ll never stop). And staying healthy? That’s a whole new challenge because if I fall sick, there’s no one here to take care of me!
But you know what? This whole experience has made me realize what home truly means. The importance of family, your city, your roots—it all hits you when you’re far away. I’ve never heard anyone say their birth city isn’t great. No matter where they go, everyone says, “My city is the best!” And you know what? They’re right. No place in the world will ever feel like home the way your birth city does. I’m not saying that moving away from home is something to avoid. In fact, it’s necessary. It makes you stronger, more resilient. It forces you to face life independently, without relying on anyone. It’s painful, yes, but it helps you grow. It teaches you how to stand on your own feet.
So, while I’m here, learning how to “adult” in this new city, I’m eagerly waiting for the day I can go back home, see my mom, eat her food, and just be in the place that feels like home. Because now, more than ever, I get it. Home isn’t just a place. It’s a feeling—a warm, familiar, comforting feeling that no amount of independence can replace.
Let me know in the comments if you can relate, and hit like if you’ve felt this way too!
