36 years old and a tourist in my hometown

Thirty-six years old, and a tourist in my hometown. I have been living abroad for almost twenty years, and I’ve finally come to accept that I no longer belong to the place where I grew up.

This summer, for the first time, I am not staying at my family’s home. Instead, I rented an apartment by the beach, just like all the other tourists coming from different parts of Italy, Europe, or wherever they may be from.

And it wasn't just a pragmatic choice—it was an emotional one. I decided that I am no longer needed in the way I once thought I was. I don't need to step into the exact same family role I always played, nor do I need to summon all my old friends to see every single one of them.

It’s a brand-new perspective. For a long time, I fought against it. I thought that by letting go of those old habits, I was losing my place in those relational systems. Yet, I was carrying weights that were never mine to hold, all while complaining about the burdens that felt unfairly placed on my shoulders.

What changed this year? I allowed myself to put my own happiness and my own needs first—without feeling guilty.

My autopilot used to look like this:

go back home > wear the mask they know > play the part diligently > swallow the stress > leave again > and finally start breathing once you’re far away.

It was never about the outside circumstances. It was my own attitude that set the expectations my family and friends had of me. I realized I can set boundaries without the world falling apart and without hurting anyone. And even if it causes a shift, it is not my job to manage someone else’s emotional waves.

I respect, honor, and thank my family for the warm welcome they give me every single time I return. Living abroad and having a family of my own now, I appreciate with deep gratitude the blessing of having a family back home. But for years, I held myself to standards that nobody was actually requiring of me. I was clinging to the only version of myself I thought could function in this environment.

But guess what? I can simply be myself and be completely fine.

This realization feels liberating, calming, and deeply authentic. My body is no longer on high alert; it is finally letting go, and my mind is following suit.

The duality of being an expat who comes home feeling like a foreigner never bothered me that much. What truly weighed me down was the burden of pretending to be someone I no longer wanted to be.

Eventually, I found the courage to be a tourist in my hometown—and I kind of like it.

Yesterday, while floating in the sea, I felt how deeply the water is part of my system, how much I missed it, and how profoundly it calms me. The sea will always be here—no demands, no regrets. And my place is here, whenever I choose to claim it.