I still remember the day my husband said over the phone, “Get ready, we’ve got your visa approved.” That moment was full of joy and excitement – not just because I could finally start living with him, but also because it symbolized a better life, a better future.
Yet, months later, as I pack lunch boxes, do the household chores, or scroll through photos while talking to my parents, sipping a cup of chai – something feels missing. You cannot explain it, or neither could I, but it doesn’t feel like you anymore.
Suddenly, life starts feeling lonely. No colleagues calling your name, no friends to chat with over chai. Your degrees don’t hold the same value, don’t have the same power. You start describing yourself as just a stay-at-home mom, or someone managing home – which, in truth, is equal to two or three full-time jobs.
But still, the conditioning of society, or the financial dependence, or the feeling of not being able to contribute to the family – all of it makes the silence between tasks feel heavier than the workload itself.
Although it looks shimmery and easy to people outside the country – those in the motherland – we often feel we have lost our identity. We are away from the real “me.”
We often fail to understand that it’s not just the body that has relocated; it’s not just the country. It’s, most importantly, an emotional relocation.
In our culture, women are taught to adapt, adjust, and endure. So when we feel lonely, we don’t even complain. We assume we are lucky – fortunate enough to be in a better place. And yes, that might be true for many people out there.
But in the process, we disengage from our true emotions. We disregard ourselves because we think we have to be grateful for what we have.
Here’s what we fail to understand: gratitude and grief are not two sides of the same coin – they are the two eyes of your face, both equally important.
Yes, you can love your new life and still grieve your old one. And that’s okay.
Identity loss isn’t the end. Just because you don’t have an identity right now doesn’t mean you’ve failed.
It’s an invitation to rebuild – from scratch, but consciously this time.
To stop chasing the woman you were – “I used to do that.” “I used to be this.” And start becoming the woman you are meant to be.*
Every relocation isn’t just geographical – it’s spiritual.
When you start listening to your emotions instead of silencing them, you start finding your home back within.
If you’ve read this until here, pause.
Ask yourself – When was the last time I introduced myself without using a role?
Not as someone’s wife, someone’s mother, or daughter – but just me.
Keep watching this space for more stories of chaos, courage, and becoming yourself.
And remember – it’s best enjoyed with the last sip of chai in your cup. ☕
– Dr Tejashwini Harti
