When I left home, I wasn’t running away from a bad life.
I think that’s what makes this story feel a little more complicated.
I was actually in a really good place. I had a job I genuinely loved and enjoyed, with a nice team around me. I had a good friend circle, or at least, at that time, I thought I did. My mental health was in a good place too. Looking back, I would honestly say it was one of the peak moments of my life.
And still, I chose to leave.
Moving to Melbourne for further studies was completely my decision. It was something I wanted for myself. I always had that dream of living abroad, studying, becoming independent, and experiencing a life outside of everything I knew. But even when the decision is yours, it doesn’t mean you don’t question it later.
There were so many times I looked back and asked myself,
Was this the right decision?
Because the truth is, I had a good life back home.
I had comfort. I had people. I had familiarity. I had a routine that made sense. I had a version of myself that felt settled, loved, and known.
Then suddenly, I was in a new country, living in shared houses, doing odd jobs, studying, working, trying to survive, trying to build a life, and trying not to fall apart in the process.
No one really prepares you for that part.
When people talk about moving abroad, they often talk about the freedom, the opportunities, the independence, and the “better life.” And yes, all of that can be true. But there is another side to it too, the side where you are tired all the time, missing home, sharing spaces with strangers, worrying about rent, bills, groceries, laundry, assignments, shifts, transport, and everything in between.
Back home, there were things I didn’t even think about. My mum would cook. Laundry was not something that felt like a life admin mountain. Bills were not always sitting at the back of my mind. There was a softness in being home that I only fully understood after leaving it.
Here, everything is yours to carry.
Your meals.
Your money.
Your studies.
Your work.
Your emotions.
Your loneliness.
Your decisions.
Your survival.
And sometimes it feels like everyone around you is also just trying to make it through. Friends are busy. Everyone is working. Everyone is studying. Everyone is tired. Even when you want to meet people, life gets in the way because everyone is struggling to build something.
That was one of the hardest parts to accept.
The version of me that left home had a good life. She had energy, people, dreams, and confidence. She thought she was just moving into a bigger version of life. But she didn’t know how much she would have to let go of. She didn’t know how many times she would question herself. She didn’t know that independence would feel both beautiful and heavy.
But I don’t think she made the wrong choice.
Because even with all the hard parts, Melbourne gave me something too.
It gave me a different kind of life. It gave me space. It gave me independence. It gave me opportunities. It gave me the chance to earn, grow, learn, and become someone I probably wouldn’t have become if I stayed where everything was comfortable.
The quality of life here is good. You work hard, but you can also build something for yourself. You earn, you grow, you learn how capable you are. You start understanding life in a different way.
And maybe that is the strange thing about moving away from home.
You can miss the life you had and still be grateful for the life you are building.
You can question your decision and still know it shaped you.
You can love where you came from and still choose where you are going.
The version of me that left home had no idea what was waiting for her. She didn’t know about the loneliness, the small wins, the breakdowns, the bills, the independence, the growth, or the quiet strength she would have to find.
But I think she would be proud of me now.
Not because everything went perfectly.
But because I stayed.
I learned.
I grew.
And little by little, I built a life that feels like mine.