Uprooting

Leaving behind everything you know to move abroad is often romanticized, portrayed as an effortless adventure and a fresh start. The truth is, it can be messy, isolating, and full of unexpected challenges. 

In this piece, Genevieve shares a deeply personal experience of uprooting her life, navigating uncertainty, and finding resilience in the face of the unknown. She reminds us that starting over isn't always easy, but it is truly transformative. 

The Truth About Leaving Everything and Moving Abroad

Looking at the place I had been craving to see for almost seven years was astonishing. It was simply just a place, a muddy farm road to most, but to me, it was a pathway back to my youth. It was the road I would walk as a child to explore the woods behind my house. I would play with my friends, feel carefree, and be with nature. This road, while underwhelming to others, meant so much more to me. It was home to my core — a piece of my innocence.

Though I had pictured this exact moment for years, when it finally arrived, I felt exhausted. I had made it to my destination at the end of a long summer of rejection and insecurity. I had worked so hard to get here, yet I felt undeserving of excitement. It was a hard feeling to process. I had finally made it home, but I wasn’t sure if this was still what I wanted. The place that had called to me like a siren all those years might not have been the perfect fix to all my problems.

The Post-Grad Freefall

I felt like I had been running a race – a race to get to the end of college, to start my career, to be back in Germany. But by the time I crossed the finish line and graduated, it felt like the clock I had been trying to outrun had stopped, and suddenly, everything felt wrong. Life was somehow moving too fast and yet not moving at all.

Being post-grad felt completely freeing, yet it left a pit in my stomach, like I was falling from the sky. The truth is, you don’t realize how much routine and predictability shape your life until everything changes. I started feeling so hopeless. If this was what I had worked so hard for, why did it feel so incredibly wrong?

The Reality of Moving Abroad

All I wanted was a break. Now, all I wanted was a job.

I couldn’t believe how quickly my mental health declined. I spent thirty minutes almost every day crying on the bathroom floor, feeling as if I had made the biggest mistake of my life. I had spent all my money to be here. I thought it would be easy. I thought it would simply work out. I look back now and envy the blind optimism I had.

For a while, I was cynical about the whole thing. It felt like I was going through the stages of grief, and I was angry. Angry at my past self for having so much hope. Sad that my plan wasn’t going to work out. Devastated that I had left all my friends back home and felt too embarrassed to tell them how things were actually going.

I checked in here and there, giving honest but edited answers about how I was doing. The truth was, I was lonely. Even though I was living with my boyfriend, I felt alone. He didn’t quite understand how I was feeling, as he had things lined up after graduation: visas, grad school, apartments. I didn’t even know what I was going to eat that day.

Drifting from Place to Place

So, I traveled around for a bit, ran away from place to place to avoid my life back in Florida and the embarrassment I left behind in Germany. I stayed with one of my childhood friends who was stationed outside a military base in England. He let me live in one of his guest rooms for a month, truly out of kindness. He worked nights, so I barely saw him, and during the day, I would walk to town, get a coffee, go to Sainsbury’s — ya know, British stuff.

Occasionally, he’d bring me to events with his friends. They were all military and intrigued by an unemployed art major. Some made fun of me, but many were nice. The contrast was jarring, though, it reminded me how different the world is outside the art community. When you spend four years of your life at art school, mostly surrounded by creatives, you can forget how the rest of the world thinks and functions.

Though I was still desperately lonely and confused, I managed to survive. I was now in the midst of three months of long distance with my boyfriend, dealing with a time difference I wouldn’t wish on anyone. I spent countless hours binge-watching everything I could, searching for some distraction from the hopelessness I felt.

Returning, But Not Really Going Home

Leaving England felt routine, but exciting. At this point, I practically lived at the airport. I was so used to packing and repacking, the overpriced food and drinks, the inevitable stomachache, and the exhaustion of it all — I was ready. Though I wasn’t quite going “home,” I was going back to the States. Back to my sister.

Landing in Vegas was odd. I had spent the past five months in Europe, and when I left in May, I had no intention of returning to the States so soon. Though it wasn’t in my plan, I was so happy to be back. I missed the comforts of my own culture. I missed air conditioning, predictable menu items, and the food I craved so dearly.

When I met my sister in the parking lot, I was excited to see her. We had never been particularly close when I was younger, our ten-year age gap and the fact that I rarely saw her made it difficult. But it was a relief to be with someone I could talk to. At first, I didn’t know if I wanted to share the truth about Germany. I glazed over it because it was too disappointing to talk about.

A Life-Changing Month

I spent a little over a month living with my sister and her husband. It was the longest time I had spent with her since I was about five years old, and it was life-changing. That month changed everything.

We spent mornings drinking coffee, watching reality TV, running errands, taking care of her dog. The simplest activities brought us closer. We took a spontaneous trip to California to visit her in-laws, and it became one of my favorite memories. I felt like a kid again, but with all the freedom of an adult.

A New Outlook on Life

After that long, disappointing summer, this was my rehabilitation. I had a new outlook on life. I felt okay again. Not perfect, not whole, but optimistic.

When I started the process for my Australian visa, I felt like I was jumping into something completely unknown. I had never planned for this – and I plan everything. It felt like a last resort, like I had gone everywhere and nothing felt right.

The truth is, moving abroad is not the simple fix we’re led to believe it is.

It forces you to examine yourself and your habits. It shows you the true colors of your friendships and family. It teaches you how to be comfortable with being uncomfortable, and some might say that’s the hardest part.

Looking back now, I am proud of myself. I worked to leave. I made homes in so many places. Even though I was always running to the next, I made memories with people I wouldn’t have otherwise.

That road in Germany still calls to me, like an itch I fear I will never scratch. I don’t know what the future holds for me and Germany, but I hope our story continues. It may not be my sanctuary, but it will always be a part of who I am.

I had to learn to pivot my plans and my dreams – to accept that investing everything into something does not guarantee it will all work out. I still don’t know where my future will be. I don’t know if I want to stay in Australia long-term or go somewhere else.

All I know is that I will be okay, wherever I go. I will find my people in time. And if I don’t, I still have people back home who will take me in and love me just the same.

The world is a big place, but it feels a little smaller knowing that you can always get on a plane and start again.

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To Genna, thank you for opening your heart, being vulnerable, and sharing your story with us. The reality of it all is sticky, emotional, hard, but perhaps the best, most transformative times. A reminder that what we see on our media platforms are simply the highlights. May this help who it needs to!

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