Re-rooting: You Have Landed. But Truly Arriving Takes Time.
How to get to that feeling of being at home again
Re-rooting — the fourth stage of the Relocurious Arc — is about finding, establishing, or reinventing yourself after a big move. This stage is rich and tender: The momentum of moving slows, and the real work of becoming at home in the new place begins. For many, having just leapt into the unknown, re-rooting is where the not-yet-fully-resolved aspects of the relocation (and of who we are becoming in the process) begin to surface. And, the inevitable emotional catch-up can start to unfold within us.
A Subtle Shift in Energy
Imagining a move to a new country (stage one of the Arc) tends to bring excitement. Letting go (stage two) unfolds gradually and thoughtfully — or we skip it altogether, telling ourselves, “tomorrow is going to look after itself”. We pack and go — soon to arrive in the place we had dreamt of! And, while leaping (stage three) may be filled with adrenaline (or drama), re-rooting is usually quieter and slower — well, unless you are starting a new job, driving kids to their new school, and buying a house all on your first day after arriving. Most people’s re-rooting seems soaked with emotions.
So you have landed. Your move is technically over, and the movie of your dreamt up new life is starting to play right in front of you. You are in it, and the experience can be quite intense, with all the new sights and scents, lights and colours …
… unless, of course, you arrived just as the six months of rain started that no one had warned you about (like Anushka who had previously only seen Vancouver bathing in sun). Or unless your ‘deluxe’ hotel is actually located in a dirty, smelly, noisy part of town (our friend Jozef took days to work up the courage to get out and explore!). Or, unless your bags (or the furniture you shipped) get lost or held in customs for months.
The good news is, the physical move is usually smooth. So whether you are running away from a life you can’t stand anymore, or you are embarking on the adventure of your life, reaching your destination will likely bring the positive experience of relief, joy, and positive anticipation. You drop your luggage and head out for that fantastic dinner with a view. The first of many ecstatic days in your new, dream life!
And yet. Have you heard of hedonic adaptation? We tend to overestimate how big life changes (such as starting life in a dream destination) affect our experience in the long run. Yes, relocating will likely evoke joy, happiness, excitement, satisfaction, awe, less worry, many culinary delights, … Yet, some of that initial excitement will almost surely fade over time. Novelty turns into routines, and daily living starts to serve you more of a mix of the awesome and the less-so. (If you moved a long time ago, yet what we are describing here is not what you are experiencing, please do share your story with us!)
Then, there is the sudden sensation of being more lost than ever. Elements of daily living like navigating the local bureaucracy, or grocery shopping in a language you are just starting to learn, can trigger the sense of overwhelm. Being a stranger to everyone you come across can be unsettling. An endless search for a place to call home, or an unending wait for renovations to be completed, can be draining and disenchanting.
Had you known all of this was coming? Perhaps, but it may have been hard to imagine how all of it might feel. It might not have occurred to you how dramatically different certain aspects of living could be in a new country. Chances are, you were a tad too optimistic about how quickly you would master the new language (we hear this one a lot, and we feel it ourselves, too!), or the customs. Even if you had prepared diligently for the many aspects of your new life, the emotional toll of relocating can be heavy.
A Mix of Emotions to Sort Through
Not knowing: When the things that matter to you — that you had imaged would bring comfort and joy — are not getting resolved, staying upbeat and cheerful can be hard. When friends ask how things are going (“When are you moving to your new place?”), and you are not sure yourself, that may put extra strain on how you see things, and how optimistic you remain — both on the inside and in your conversations.
You got excited about the move and how much better your life will be, and you told your friends. You committed to a positive outcome. Then, reality turns out to be less than ideal (perhaps still better than ‘fine’, but not as awesome as you have been telling yourself, and others). What you experience is called cognitive dissonance: discomfort caused by the (unexpected or ignored) inconsistency between expectations and reality.
Some of us go to great lengths to reduce this discomfort without losing face, especially when our image or credibility are on our minds (and we think not having life perfectly figured out somehow diminishes our worth). We may try to convince people (and ourselves, actually) that all is well, or there was no way to predict what’s happening, or it’s all just a small glitch, or the temporary pain is ‘worth it’ (self-justification and impression management). Such protective mechanisms are only harmless to an extent: Our friends will eventually pick up on our efforts to hide what’s obviously not going well. And our futile attempts will convey insecurity, and compromise our credibility, honesty and trustworthiness in the eyes of the people dear to us. Not worth it.
How may this play out in your life? Well, see if instead of admitting struggle, you catch yourself (or your partner) downplaying challenges, overly highlighting small wins, avoiding the topic in conversations, or instead overcompensating by posting only awesome experiences on social media. Does it all feel heavy at the end of the day? You may feel lighter, and more supported, by openly telling the complete story. This may prompt some good laughs (“Oh, you guys thought you were going to have it so easy!”), shared memories (“Have we told you how long our house took to renovate?”), even useful tips (“I read about this new office that might help you with the process.”).
Moves are often messy, and a stubborn desire to present ours as perfect can suck all the fun out of the adventure. We may get caught in the commitment and consistency bias — feeling (often self-imposed) pressure to stay consistent with what we had previously said or done (“We will be all moved in by Christmas.”). Or the sunk cost fallacy — continuing to invest in, or defend, a decision simply because of how much we have already committed (emotionally, financially, socially). ‘Zooming out’ and considering how else we might approach our goal or desire may be a healthier approach.
Over the past few months, Kathy and I have found ourselves repeatedly revisiting our options, as the apartment we had put an offer on did not get completed on time, the project is now more than a year behind schedule, and it looks like it may be another six months before we can move in. We like the neighbourhood and the building, we have visualized in our minds (and using a home design website) what furniture we want, we are eager to invite family to visit … Yet the long wait, the amount of rent we have continued to pay, and the lack of a firm completion date weigh heavily on us.
Why So Many Emotions? (The Psychological Landscape of Re-rooting)
Well, there is the adjustment fatigue: After a big change, the brain craves routines. But those take time to develop, and you are just starting to figure things out. It’s normal to feel tired and lazy, even to get sick after arriving. You will get your energy back, but it may take time. Even if you don’t feel like it — especially if you don’t feel like it — drag yourself out of the house and go for a walk. Invite a neighbour or colleague to join you, or try a local meetup. You’ll feel better in the company of like-minded souls. Start new routines bit by bit. Morning coffee. A local grocery market. A call with a friend.
Another source of sudden exhaustion can be delayed grief: In the middle of all the happy thoughts about your life-changing move, there will be losses — of people, places, comforting routines — that you have yet to process or mourn. These will find a way of rising to the surface and affecting your mood. Grief takes time to process, but again, family and social connections (whether you chat with them in person or online) can make a great difference. Let them hear you out when you want to speak, distract you when you really need it, or just be there when silence (or hugs) is all you long for. Just remember to be there for the people in your life when they need you by their side.
A change of scenery, professional roles, social connections may (and almost certainly will) land you in identity flux: The question, “Who am I here?” will surface. ‘Here’, as in, in a country where I may not be a citizen or where I am not (yet) permitted to work; where I do not speak the language (or I have an accent); where something about me doesn’t fit the norms. Perhaps my ancestors came from here, but I am a new arrival, and I don’t know if I ever will fit. Practice self-compassion — and just keep swimming.
Even the more introverted of us are social beings, we have circles of people close and special to us and, in a way, those people help define us. It may not be until we live far from those people that we realize that we are subject to social anchoring: We notice that those people (few or many, but significant) were part of our roots, they were what helped link us to a place and a community. We may stay connected, they may visit us and we may visit them, but we are no longer anchored to the same place. Not the same way. We will likely make similarly powerful social connections in our new country, but that, too, will take time. Until then, we may feel a bit lost, and that, too, is okay.
And finally, we may experience loneliness, boredom, or comparison: We are new here, we are not yet connected to others with similar interests (or personalities, backgrounds, jobs …), and either we or people around us may be quicker to notice ways in which we are different, or deem us culturally inept, or simply ‘rough’ in some regard. Growing into belonging to a new place and its community takes time.
Re-rooting Can Be Tricky
Back to normal? Strong negative emotions (whatever their cause) can adversely affect our mood, daily living, work performance, social relationships, and health. After a while, we may simply want those emotions to go away, and for things to return to normal. However, when we leave a job, sell a house, and move across borders, the normal we had known usually no longer applies. In a moment of overwhelm, we may also easily forget our dream — what excited us about the move, and why we picked this place. Revisiting those reasons, and reminding ourselves of our ability and resilience (including past successes) to jump back from adversity can yield fresh perspectives on how to approach the new situation optimistically and constructively.
Building a new life may not unfold along a straight path. Picture this: You have been in your new country for a few months. You have started shopping at the local market, attending a language class, even exchanged a few jokes with your neighbour. One day, while running an errand (say, booking a medical appointment), you hit a bureaucratic wall. You are spoken to brusquely, leaving you in tears and feeling helpless.
The overly emotional experience may prompt one or more of the following responses:
Relapse: You fall back into a familiar old coping pattern (doom-scrolling real estate listings ‘back home’, or texting your former neighbour to say, “This was a mistake.” You might even abandon some of the new habits you have been forming: The next day you skip your language class, or you cancel dinner plans with new acquaintances.
Regression: Emotionally, you revert to a version of yourself that feels smaller, more helpless, maybe even child-like. You find yourself fantasizing about how easy life used to be when you knew how to ‘adult’ in your home country. The comforting sense of competence, autonomy, and confidence you have been rebuilding seems to collapse.
Resistance: You begin to subtly or overtly resist further adaptation. You might say, “Why should I have to learn how they do things?” Or decide, “I’m just going to speak English; I’m tired of trying and failing.” You dig your heels in (even if just in your mind), rejecting the local way, or the demand to yet again start from scratch.
Or, you could step back from the situation, go for a walk in the park, take a relaxing bath, invite a friend to go browse a local market with you. Calming your mind will help you see the way forward more clearly: Admitting you are not fine, but reassuring yourself that you will be. Re-rooting is about allowing your new roots to form in the new, unfamiliar soil of your dream place. Make space for creating more positive experiences along the way.
Baby Steps
How can we, then, help ourselves re-root, so our new surroundings, community, and culture begin to feel like home? Look around. Had you grown up in this place, who and what would you feel most connected to? How would you interact with the people around you, and how would they interact with you? Who would be your ‘tribe’? Where would you go on weekends? What would you chat about with your neighbours?
Now, go out and begin to initiate those encounters, so you can grow the first roots. You are the gardener now, practice your patience. Be thoughtful about what grows where. Consider what your garden needs to yield the rewards you desire. Make new connections and create happy rituals — for you and your new neighbours.
When Kathy and I arrived in Porto, one of the first local restaurants we heard about was Xau Laura. A cozy little place a short walk from our rental, with outside seating and reviews hinting at a comfy atmosphere and caring staff. We enjoy being where the people are, we love food, and we were longing for connection. Helder and Ricardo, who run the place, were patient with our Portuguese, carefully explaining their menu, lovingly sharing the story behind the restaurant’s name. They quickly became our go-to for an afternoon snack: You can’t go wrong with a couple of rissois and wine, but what we love the most is the company. Two and a half years after our move, we now live in a different part of town, yet these two brothers are in our ‘like family’ circle of friends, with special occasions (ours and theirs) celebrated together. Our first roots.
In our current apartment, saying “Bom dia!” to our upstairs neighbour would always solicit a nod and a smile — maybe because of how we pronounce the greeting, but still. We got to know Señor José better when his apartment (and to some extent ours) got flooded. Language was not a barrier in that moment. When we saw water pouring from our elderly neighbour’s ceiling and all over his floor, it was clear that buckets full of water needed to be emptied, the heavy light fixture hanging from the soaked ceiling removed, parquet flooring inspected for water damage. The fire brigade came quickly and dealt with the source of the leak. And José was no longer a stranger. Another root.
Exploring Porto with our cameras, Kathy and I quickly discovered that long walks along the river result in meeting local photographers. They, too, have their usual routes and favourite times of day for wandering around. That’s how Sérgio, local photographer and author, appeared (on the day of a major power outage). The next day, we went on a street photography outing together, capturing the city on one of its many holidays. And now I am reading Sérgio’s book of poems. Yet another little root.
A big part of re-rooting can be exploring the local culture and traditions — as well as embracing the local language. In Porto, we are fortunate to be able to use English in pretty much all interactions, yet a bit envious of the experience English speakers have in smaller towns and villages — where you learn to speak Portuguese more quickly, as a matter of necessity. One way or the other, learning the local language can make a big difference in connecting with people. While Kathy and I are delighted to find our rudimentary Portuguese generally well received, we agree with the guests on our podcast whose biggest wish was that they had started learning the language earlier.
Whatever steps towards re-rooting feel right to you, take them. Each one can get you closer to that sense of ‘I have arrived’ or ‘I belong’. More about that next time.
Questions to Ponder As You Re-root
What has begun to feel familiar or comforting?
What roots (people, places, routines) are starting to form?
Where are you still resisting planting new roots? Why might that be?
If you thought of yourself as a plant, what kind of care would you need right now?
What will you do today that gets you closer to feeling at home in your new country?
Will you share some of your re-rooting adventures with us? Email us to get in touch.