What it's like being back in Australia

And the number one thing that's helping this transition

It's 7:30am on a Friday morning (a public holiday here in Australia, for ANZAC day), and it's pouring rain. Yesterday someone asked me, "How are you finding this cooler weather?" and I had to laugh, because it was 26 degrees celsius at the time. In the middle of autumn. Yet, this is the Australian way! We pull on jumpers when it drops below 30 and are positively freezing at 20 degrees. In England, honestly, I'd be out walking in this rainy weather. I'd squish into my hiking boots and Uniqlo coat, and I wouldn't be the only one out there, either.

In moments and memories like this, I miss the U.K. I miss the solidity of my life there — what I built over nine years, the friends I made, the charm of it all. Coming home feels great and right, but it’s also weird. My friends and family have their own established lives here, and fitting back into that has been a bit clunky. Opening bank accounts stumped me (who are the go-to Australian banks these days?) and getting a new phone number was a whole thing — do people still use Vodafone? Or do I go iconic with Telstra?

There are also different cultural expectations about what life should look like here, with an emphasis on more traditional milestones like home ownership and having a couple of kids and two cars and maybe an acreage. These goals are great to have, of course. My ex-husband and I owned our home in London (and certainly I plan to buy property here too, not to mention the kids thing!). But I'm missing the way my London friends and I would celebrate each other's growth in ways that weren't always about those conventional milestones.

Also, remember those boxes you helped me pack last August in Oxford? I opened them, then promptly closed them, as I just couldn’t bring myself to look inside at that life I left behind.

And yet, even with all that, and the uncertainty of where I’ll eventually settle in this country, it feels so right in my blood and bones to be home.

Aussie snapshots: Gum trees, beautiful boy, hugs with friends, Blue Mountains mornings, bush walks, Melbourne trams, Sydney Pride, homemade marshmallows, and autumn fires.

Our family dog became suddenly unwell last week (not eating, moving very slowly) and we were told by the vet he might only have a few days. This dog means the world to me, truly the world, I love him so much, and so I took a break from work and writing — I’m grateful to paid subscribers for understanding! Being home for moments like this, and watching my dad coach his last game of water polo and Easter egg hunts with my niece and nephew and hearing kookaburras in the mornings and gum trees and galahs and being able to say “See you soon” to my parents rather than “See you in a year”... these are the bits that make the strangeness of being back worth it.

The other thing — something I’ll write more about another time — is the unravelling I’m doing from my social media persona and online narrative. Normally, I’d be sharing photos and snippets from my “new life” on Instagram, especially in Stories, and making it all mean something. Like, Here I Am In My New Life In Australia! Look How Happy And Certain I Look In My Decisions! Hahaha I’m being a bit facetious here, but I hope you get my point.

It’s been four months since I’ve posted anything on my Instagram account, and without that outlet, I’m noticing a need to make meaning in other ways. I actually think this is healthy! I’m glad I chose to take a break during this transition. It’s given me more space to simply not know what I’m doing; I don’t feel like I need to arrange workshops or meet-ups to “leverage” my return home or present some kind of orchestrated, put-together narrative.

(Saying that, I am the kind of person who enjoys documenting and making meaning and sharing parts of my life’s journey online, obviously, but at least Substack gives me a longer word count to thrash it all out with nuance and context!)

But you want to know what’s truly helping me in this transition?