The last few weeks have been full-on, which has meant time away from writing—both on here and on social media. I’ve felt like I’ve abandoned this space a little, but honestly, stepping back has allowed me to be fully present with the people I love.
It’s been such a joy to catch up with friends and family, reminiscing about our travels and talking about the future. But if I’m being real—it’s been exhausting. I’ve let my blog sit quiet and barely touched Instagram. Not because I don’t care, but because I physically haven’t had the time or energy to keep up the pace I was going at. And maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s time to talk about the reality of coming home when your life is split between two places.
Home—but not quite a holiday
We always imagine homecomings to be comforting, slow, restful. After all, you’ve taken leave, flown thousands of miles, packed your suitcase—surely that counts as a holiday? But the truth is, coming home isn’t always relaxing.
It sits in this strange in-between. You’re back in your home country, but your routine, your space, and your rhythm no longer exist here. You’re sleeping in spare rooms or childhood bedrooms, borrowing cars, living out of a suitcase, and trying to make time for every single person who means something to you.
Adventure of a different kind
In the past few weeks alone, I’ve clocked over 600 miles on a 300cc motorbike, sat in hours of traffic, and crisscrossed the country just to squeeze in coffees, lunches, dinners, and hugs. I’ve caught up with family, friends from school, university mates—everyone wants to catch up. And truly, it’s a privilege. I don’t take it for granted how lucky I am to have people who care.
But wow, it’s tiring. Every meet-up comes with a beautiful emotional load—catching up on each other’s lives, explaining the move (again), sharing plans for the future, answering the “so what’s next?” questions. There’s so much love, but also so much effort.
Living in two worlds
This is the bit that rarely gets spoken about. The side of long-term travel or expat life where “coming home” isn’t simple. Where your life exists in two places at once, and you never quite feel fully settled in either. It’s incredible, and at times, overwhelming.
I’ve learned that it’s okay to press pause. To rest. To say “not this time” to a catch-up. To not reply straight away. Coming home is an adventure in its own right, and like any journey, you need moments to breathe.
So if you’re in the same boat—or plane—know you’re not alone. Coming home is beautiful. It’s chaotic. It’s emotional. And it’s okay if it leaves you a little worn out.
As always,
Thank you so much for reading,
All the best,
Emily the UK Nurse Down Under
xxx
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UK Nurse in Aus 