Expat in the UK: what they don’t tell you
I’d lived away from my family before I moved to England. I went away to college in Ontario, lived in another town after graduation and travelled without my parents. I’d even taken a big Europe trip. I thought I had a reasonable idea of homesickness, and that I’d probably be able to handle it.
Then I moved abroad, and the homesickness was a completely different animal. At the beginning it could feel suffocating, isolating and exhausting. I knew I would miss my family. I hadn’t understood how it was going to feel. Looking back nearly nine years later, in November 2024, I wanted to talk about that side of living in England as well as the good bits.
A good life can still come with guilt
I’ve had a wonderful life here, although it hasn’t all been good. The guilt was still there when I made this reflection. Moving away had been my own choice, and I felt selfish about it. Having good reasons to move didn’t make that feeling disappear.
Homesickness hadn’t vanished either. It wasn’t as crushing as it had been at the start, and I’d learned to deal with it and work around it, but it lingered. Those aren’t the parts of living abroad that people always talk about, yet they were part of my experience alongside everything I loved about England.
Missing the hard days as well as the celebrations
One point that came up while I was talking about this with people in our Discord was the serious kind of fear of missing out. Social media lets you see what friends and family are doing at home. You can follow the birthdays, engagements, weddings and Christmas gatherings, but you’re still not there.
It’s also the difficult events. When somebody loses a job, a relationship ends or someone dies, you want to be there for the people you love. Missing those moments isn’t the same as wishing you could join a fun party. You want to support them, and distance gets in the way.
I can’t go back to Ontario every time something happens. I felt lucky that the flight itself was around seven hours, rather than a much longer journey, but there were also hours getting to the airport, waiting there and travelling home at the other end. Physically and financially, going back whenever I wanted wasn’t possible.
Starting again at the boring things
I moved at the end of 2015 without watching YouTube videos to prepare. I didn’t even have a smartphone to look things up if I got stuck. That left me with plenty of embarrassing experiences, including all the little questions I hadn’t thought to ask about getting the bus to work.
How did I buy a ticket? Which ticket did I need? Was I supposed to tap in or tap out? Which bus was the right one? I missed buses and got confused, but I’d never used a British bus before. Of course I didn’t arrive already knowing how it worked.
The same thing happened with the GP. Registering, booking an appointment and working out what to do with a prescription were all unfamiliar. I didn’t know whether I should speak to reception or a pharmacy, or which pharmacy would have it. These weren’t exciting adventures, but they were part of building a life here, and sometimes I had to swallow my pride.
Where are you from? Again
Another familiar moment is meeting someone new and getting asked where I’m from. Sometimes somebody skips the question and guesses ‘American’, then apologises when I say Canadian. I understand the curiosity. I’ve lived in towns and villages in Kent where my accent can stand out.
Still, after nearly nine years it can bring me up short. I’ll be feeling settled and at peace, thinking of this place as home, then a question about my voice reminds me that I’m from somewhere else. I don’t think people are trying to make me feel unwelcome. It just interrupts that feeling of belonging for a moment.
I did end up feeling at home
In my first year, I honestly didn’t think I’d ever feel at home here. Everything felt foreign because it was, and my anxiety and homesickness could make me feel sick. I thought things might get a little better, but I couldn’t picture England becoming my home.
By the time I filmed this, it had. I had favourite coffee shops, a favourite Chinese takeaway and a preferred supermarket. Those ordinary choices belonged to the life I’d built here. I’d also lived in four properties and had various jobs around Kent, so this hadn’t been one unchanging experience.
England is my home, and so is Canada. That can be jarring, and I’ve had my share of identity crises over it, but I prefer to look at having two homes as a privilege. I hadn’t believed that would be possible when I arrived at twenty-two. Nearly nine years on, it was true, even with the guilt and homesickness still there.
No Comments