Did you ever have to leave everything and start over?
Moving to a new city. Starting a new job. Finding your own place to live. Building everything all over again.
If you have, you already know it’s not easy. It demands a strange mix of courage, exhaustion, and internal negotiation. You fight yourself more than the situation. Every single day.
Fortunately… or unfortunately… that part wasn’t new to me. I’ve moved cities before. I’ve started “all over again” before. I’ve even left a very well-paid job to move to an entirely different country. Reinvention was never unfamiliar territory. In fact, my default reaction to starting over had always been “excited.” The thrill of the unknown. The adrenaline of becoming someone new.
So why not this time?
The answer is simple: I didn’t choose it. I wasn’t prepared for it. Not emotionally. Not mentally. Not in the quiet ways that matter. People called me dumb for that. Maybe they weren’t wrong. But labels don’t change facts, and the truth is, I honestly wasn’t ready.
This time, starting over didn’t feel like freedom. It felt like being pushed off solid ground before learning how to land. New faces everywhere, though it was the same city. The place that was once home, no longer existed. The people who were friends weren’t friends anymore. Everything felt alien.
And yet, I always had a smile on my face. So, while I was quietly struggling, everyone around me was convinced that I was rocking it. Thriving. Winning. Holding it all together. It’s strange how convincing a smile can be, not just to others, but sometimes even to yourself.
Let me tell you something here: no matter how old you are, how sorted you think your life is, or how strong you believe yourself to be, you will still have moments of “Wait… whaaat?”
That’s not failure. That’s not a setback. That’s life.
Just like a surfer riding unpredictable waves, you keep moving, balancing, adjusting, “lifing,” without even realizing how you’re doing it. No matter what, you focus on just staying afloat.
Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t alone during the times I am referring to. There were people around me. New acquaintances. People I have just met. Conversations were still wrapped in introductions: names, backgrounds, polite smiles. I was learning who they were and slowly offering them a glimpse of who I am.
But that was the difficult part. Because I already had people in my life who knew me. People who knew my patterns, my issues, my silences. People who understood me, or at least, that’s what I believed. And then, suddenly, they were gone. Not dramatically. Not with slammed doors or loud goodbyes.
They just… vanished.
I’m not complaining; I’m acknowledging. I am sure everyone had their own lives to attend to, but hey, it’s my story! You will only get my side of it.
Why am I sharing this with you? Because I strongly believe that the lessons I learned last year might come in handy for someone else out there. Someone who has the widest smile on their face yet feels empty within. Someone who doesn’t have any other option but to stay strong. Someone who is scared to be vulnerable and carries that weight every day. If this doesn’t resonate with you, you can stop reading here.
Lesson 1: The only one who cares about you is ‘You’.
Yes, you read that right. I know it might not sound right and feel very bleak, but it is what it is. The voice in your head, which keeps telling you, “If I post this, they will think I am oversharing,” or “If I color my hair pink, everyone will stare at me like I ran out of the zoo,” or “If I wear this to work, they will think I am not well integrated,” is lying to you.
Trust me, it is! Because at the end of the day, no one cares. You are an adult, and so are they. Next time the voice says something like this, ask it: “How many people did I care about today? How much did I care about what they were wearing, how they looked, or what they posted?”
Boom. There is your answer.
In psychology, this is known as the Spotlight Effect. Researchers Thomas Gilovich and Kenneth Savitsky proved that we drastically overestimate how much others notice our actions and appearance. In reality, everyone is the protagonist of their own movie, and you are, at most, an extra in theirs.
Lesson 2: You might be judged, disliked, or even hated, and guess what? That changes nothing.
Now that we’ve cleared up that no one is watching you as closely as you thought, let’s talk about the ones who are judging, disliking, or even hating you. You know what they are doing? They are projecting their insecurities onto you.
Read that again.
The one who thinks you are oversharing is likely struggling to communicate what they feel. The one who stares at your pink hair is the one who admires the boldness but can’t do it themselves because of the same fear you once had. Those who think you aren’t “integrated” because of how you dress are those who don’t know any culture other than their own.
It is them; it’s not you. No matter what you do, these people will be an integral part of your life, forever silently projecting their insecurities and trying to make you feel like “it’s you.” Don’t give them that power.
“Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.” According to Carl Jung, psychology calls this Projection. They aren’t really seeing you; they’re just seeing the parts of themselves they’ve hidden away.
Lesson 3: If you want people you can refer to as friends, find your own!
This was one of the toughest lessons I learned last year. Always remember: a friend of your friend is your friend only as long as that middle friend stays in the picture.
If you are looking for people of your own, don’t find them via someone else. Go out, meet new people, gauge their energy, and be friends only if your energies match. Most importantly, don’t ever believe that “a best friend of my best friend is my best friend too.” Life doesn’t follow the Transitive Property of Equality.
In sociology, we often fall into the trap of Triadic Closure, the idea that our social circle should naturally expand through the people we already know. But as sociologist Ronald Burt’s research on Structural Holes suggests, the most valuable connections are the ones you build independently. Don’t just inherit a network; build your own.
Lesson 4: Your solitude doesn’t owe an explanation to anyone.
Sometimes people genuinely want to help and try to be there for you by asking you to go out or join a house party. That doesn’t mean you MUST accept. You, and only you, can decide when you want to go out and when you want people around you.
It’s absolutely fine to cancel plans at the last minute, apologize, lock your door, and sleep for days. I am not referring to an unhealthy lifestyle here; I am talking about choosing solitude as your solace. Choosing solitude isn’t “anti-social,” and those who take offense when you choose yourself aren’t really your friends.
Philosopher Paul Tillich once said that language created the word loneliness to express the pain of being alone, and the word solitude to express the glory of being alone.
Lesson 5: Closure can only come from within; seeking it from others is a losing game.
This is a lesson I learned through experience and experience only. It is very human to want reasons for why something didn’t work out, why a person stopped talking, why a meeting went cold, or why you were treated a certain way. It is common to spiral into the “Whys.”
But if you sit with your thoughts mindfully, you realize the “Why” is about you. The other person is sitting somewhere else, thinking the same thing from their own perspective. Even if you get an answer, you will only accept it as “closure” if it matches your expectations. If it doesn’t, it just complicates your acceptance.
You can choose to create your own closure. The moment you do, you take back the role of protagonist in your own story. You take your power back.
Psychology calls this an Internal Locus of Control. While it’s human to crave reasons from others, Dr. Pauline Boss, an expert on Ambiguous Loss, suggests that true closure is often a myth. Real power comes when you stop waiting for their “why” and provide your own “therefore.” When you create your own ending, you reclaim the role of protagonist.
Those were the lessons I wanted to share with you. That brings us to the end of this read, blog, or story, whatever we want to call it.
Welcome to the world of Travels and tales! 
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