When I moved from Australia to New York City in my mid-20s, I had no idea it would be the best five years of my life.
I couldn’t have scripted my time living in the city if I’d tried. I’d lived through the COVID-19 pandemic, learned a lot about my professional craft in communications, and made new friends who have truly cemented a place in my life.
During my time there, I’d stood beside a best friend as her maid of honor, watched others welcome their first children and navigate a new season of parenthood, and built a day-to-day that was ordinary in the best sense — weekly pickleball matches, dinner parties, and girls’ nights watching “The Bachelorette.”
In the summer evenings, I’d frequently take walks to Brooklyn Bridge Park from my apartment. Looking out at the Lower Manhattan skyline from the pier, I’d always feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude and awe — that this was really my life, a dream I had for over a decade, finally coming true.
As great as it was living there, after five years of soaking in the city, I made the tough decision to return to my hometown of Sydney.
Even though I loved New York, I was finding it hard to plant roots, especially since my work visa was tied to my employment, which made settling down long-term feel risky.
I thought going back home would be relatively simple. Unfortunately, settling back in has been more complicated than moving away.
I thought the familiarity of Sydney would be enough to help me immediately feel at home
When I returned to Sydney in 2025, I wrestled with a quiet unease for many months. I was home, but it didn’t quite feel like I was yet.
I knew it would be difficult coming back, but I had hoped that the familiarity of Australia — and all the memories of growing up there — would make this transition effortless on its own.
Even though it was challenging to stay in touch with people in Sydney while I was in New York — the 14-hour time difference did not help — I hoped it would be easy to reconnect once I started living there again.
But after years away, reaching out to old friends felt strangely transactional, like I was asking for something rather than picking up where we’d left off. And because many people in Sydney move in the same circles they had formed in high school and college, making new friends has been tough, and it’s become tricky for them to relate to what I experienced while in New York.
When friends or extended family did ask about my time in New York, their questions mainly revolved around how much my rent cost or whether the city had the same food as Sydney.
The surface-level chats and lack of curiosity frustrated me, as if that formative period of my life just didn’t exist. At times, it made me wonder if I’d made a mistake in coming home.
Aside from the logistical elements, like needing to drive more often to get to and from destinations, the emotional and mental parts of adjusting have been the hardest.
Returning to Australia presented me with a paradox: a slate that wasn’t completely blank, but not worn with its own grooves either. I found myself see-sawing between the hopeful possibility that accompanies new beginnings and the pragmatic cynicism that comes with having lived this story before.
I wanted a life here that felt as deliberately built as the one I’d left, but I wasn’t sure if that was possible in Sydney.
I worried whether I would need to form a completely new social circle or if I could find a workplace that would enable me to thrive in the same way as my roles in New York.
Overall, one question kept flooding my mind: Was I holding on too tightly to a chapter of my life that had closed?
I still haven’t adjusted to being back, but I’ve learned to embrace the in-between
Even though I haven’t returned to Australia as a completely new person, holding both the me that was and the me that I am now has been a humbling, eye-opening journey.
I had previously assumed that the familiarity of coming home would be enough for me to adjust. Turns out I needed to put in the hard work, grit, and follow-through — all qualities that had served me well in New York — to rebuild the kind of life I wanted in Sydney, which didn’t look the same as it had when I’d left.
Now, I’m being more intentional with my friendships, seeking out communities to rebuild a professional network, and taking the time to consider which neighborhoods I could actually see myself in for the long term.
On the bright side, there’s a slower pace of life here that allows me to breathe, along with the elimination of stressing over the unpredictability of my visa.
Plus, I’m now a short drive away from my family and can celebrate milestones together instead of just hearing about them over FaceTime.
It hasn’t been easy, but I’m giving myself the time, space, and grace this new chapter requires and embracing the messy, in-between realities that come with it.
Most of all, I’m learning to carry both places with me at once: the pieces of myself shaped in New York, and the ones still taking shape here.
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