From Rome to London: Moving Countries
There is a road that leads to my parents’ house, that makes you feel like you’re in a forest. It’s a narrow road; just enough for two cars to pass, and on both sides you have a pinewood. Since I was born my parents have lived in the same house, so for me that road signifies that I am almost home. Whenever we were coming back from a trip, a day out, or anything else, we’d have to pass through this road and, instantly, I felt home.
I’ve never quite understood that emotion until I moved out.
I moved to live with my partner in another country.
I have now been away from my hometown for two years, almost. You might think that at some point you get used to it, being far away. Well, not exactly. I don’t know about all of you out there, but I need some certainties in my life. Like knowing where to get a decent coffee, or which street is better to avoid when coming home at night, or which cashier is nicer in my local supermarket.
But when you move to a foreign country everything is new.
I moved from the suburbs of Rome to London. It was a big step and it wasn’t easy. At first, I got the excitement of being in a new place. I loved it! Before moving to London, I had been there as a tourist three times. From the first time, I always had a nice feeling looking at London. It is a chaotic city, yet it gives me a sense of calm; a feeling of belonging. And the first week of living here was amazing. Then I had a one-week work experience in an agency, and all my positive feelings were knocked down. The dream became a nightmare. I, who always did more than well in English class, was struggling to understand what people were talking about. I was left out of any conversation because I couldn’t be an active part of them. I couldn’t understand what people wanted me to do. It was awful.
Someone at this point might expect a turnaround, something that changed and got my life better.
Well, not really.
I got a job in a coffee shop, just to practice my listening skills with English. But I got even more depressed because of the crazy hours and due to the fact that it was not the job I moved here for. After almost a year I quit and my anxiety reached high peaks.
The whole time I was uncomfortably living in London, I was feeling the urge to go back home. To go back where I was surrounded by the things I grew up with. I am still not sure I want to call it homesickness.
What I actually wanted was to go back and find myself in a setting that was familiar to me. Not even a better one, just more familiar.
This has been the first step towards feeling better - realising that what I actually wanted was not to escape but to find new habits for my new place. And also realising that I couldn’t do it all by myself and needed some help. Seeking help was the best choice I’ve ever made for myself and my wellbeing.
Even if I am still not that far into my recovery process, and I can already see the benefits I enjoy from just starting it.
I know that many of you have totally different experiences, maybe some of you have never moved from their country, and people that actually have might have had totally different experiences. But I think every one of us has experienced something which has changed and had some effect on ourselves, be it big or small. Just remember there is always a way for you to be at peace with yourself again.
I don’t mean to tell you how you should live, enact your changes, or how to manage any problem you might face, because only you know what is right for you. But there is just one thing I want to tell you: don’t be afraid of the change. Whatever challenge you might be facing right now, don’t run away. Face it. Ask yourself what is really bothering you about the situation you’re in and find a way through.
In my case it was finding my ordinariness in the little things around me, not looking at it as if it was something unfamiliar. Finding that nice coffee just around the corner, or having the feeling of being almost home, just from looking at what’s around me really helped because I’m living in the present and not holding on to my past.
Written by Claudia Filannino
A not-so-recent graduate in Copywriting, Claudia is still finding her way into this world. After a long time unicorn-hunting, she found herself so confident in writing that she started to write short stories about the lives passing her by. Little details are what drive her creativity, big stories are what interest her