12/05/2026
There’s a strange kind of grief that comes with starting over in another country.
When I moved from Finland to Australia, everyone talked about the exciting parts. The beaches, the weather, the opportunities, the “better life.” And yes, those things are real. The sun feels warmer here, the days feel longer, and sometimes I still catch myself smiling at the fact that winter no longer feels endless.
But nobody really prepares you for the emotional split that happens inside you.
Part of me feels proud for being brave enough to leave everything familiar behind. I left the comfort of routines, the people who knew me without explanations, the streets that felt like home even in silence. I packed my life into luggage and carried hopes bigger than my fears. That takes courage, even if I don’t always give myself credit for it.
At the same time, another part of me feels lost.
Because moving countries isn’t just changing locations. It’s changing identity. Suddenly, you become “the foreigner.” You notice your accent more. You miss small things you never appreciated before, the quietness of Finnish mornings, the smell of the air after snow, familiar foods, conversations that didn’t require effort. You realize home was never just a place. It was a feeling of belonging.
Some days in Australia feel beautiful and freeing. Other days feel incredibly lonely, even when surrounded by people. There are moments where I question if I made the right choice, and moments where I know this move changed me for the better.
I think realization comes when you understand that both feelings can exist at the same time.
I can miss Finland deeply while still building a future in Australia.
I can feel grateful and heartbroken.
Excited and exhausted.
Hopeful and homesick.
Life doesn’t always move in one emotional direction. Sometimes growth feels uncomfortable. Sometimes healing feels like isolation before it becomes peace.
Living far away from where I started has taught me that reinvention is painful, but powerful. You learn who you are when nobody around you remembers the old version of you. You learn independence in ways you never expected. You learn that strength is not always loud, sometimes it’s simply continuing to adapt when everything inside you wants familiarity again.
And maybe that’s the biggest realization of all:
Moving across the world didn’t magically solve my life or erase my struggles. But it forced me to grow. It forced me to face myself without the safety net of what was familiar. Somewhere between missing home and trying to create a new one, I became a different person.
Not completely Finnish anymore.(was not, in paper)
Not completely Australian either.
Just someone learning that home can exist in more than one place at once.
