coming back home: reflections after living in sydney for 5 years.

home [howm] | origin: germanic

• (noun.) the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household.

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Being able to study and live abroad was a privilege that many people, including myself, took for granted. Traveling to an entirely new country was a coming-of-age experience that drove a sort of accelerated self-development phase shoved within 5-years. The shy 19-year old girl that departed from Kuala Lumpur was very different from the 24-year old fresh graduate that landed in the same city roughly half a decade later.

Sydney was my second home. For so many years I had been swept along the ebbs and flows of Australia's coastal metropolis with beaches just a bus ride away, flea markets scattered across town, and cultural hubs within every suburb. To me, Sydney will always be remembered as the city that allowed me to grow into the person I am today. It was the city that taught me independence, gave me confidence, and changed my perspectives about the world around me. It was the city that gifted me lifelong friends and relationships that taught me life lessons on how to be a better person. It was the city that changed me for the better and lent itself as a safe space for me to make mistakes.

However, living abroad meant uncertainty; uncertainty about whether my next rental home would be better than the last, whether my decision to study politics would mean financial instability, or whether my status as an international student meant that I would never feel accepted in the city that I found as my second home. Uncertainty in a foreign country where they never let you forget that you’re an immigrant was disheartening.

Having packed up the last of my things over two years ago, readjusting to life in KL was harder than I had imagined. It was albeit strange coming back to my hometown as a wholly different person. Stepping out of the airplane and into the frigid air of KLIA, I felt unsure. Unsure whether I had made the right choice or otherwise to come back home. From collecting my luggage bag to greeting my parents for the first time in 2-years, I was unsure of what was to come.

Entering my childhood home, it felt like time had stood still as I tugged my weighty luggage bag up the stairs. The warm wooden floors underneath my feet, the heavy humidity hanging in the air, and the occasional sound of a car passing by outside - all of it felt oddly familiar and yet I knew something was different. I was finally home but my heart was rumbling like an angry storm on the horizon. What did this decision cost me?

Like all my other friends back in Australia, “making it” after graduating is the dream. Getting a full-time role and eventually a permanent residency (PR) was the ideal path for all of us. It’s not impossible but it is definitely not an easy journey. For me, I had felt like a failure coming back to KL leaving behind my friends and the life I had become so accustomed to. Although I knew my reasons for coming back were justified, I still felt that I didn’t get to prove my worth and instead gave up by coming back home. All that effort of taking up multiple part-time jobs, internships, and getting good grades had gone down the drain.

Initially, I had fallen into a deep depression my first year back. I had virtually no friends as all of them were still abroad, I had no support network other than my family, and I had to find my way again in a city that continued to develop in my absence. It felt lonely. All I could think about was going back to Australia as soon as I could but at the back of my mind, I knew this wasn’t a pragmatic decision. Driving that decision was my nostalgia and the yearn to go back. There were a hundred and one things I missed about Sydney; my friends, the weather, the food, the public transport (although people would say otherwise), the beaches, the coffee, and countless other things.

Then, I became angry. Angry at how the pandemic turned my life circumstances upside down. Why was my future compromised because of matters out of my control? Why was I left to suffer despite putting in the hard work and hours? Why was it that my dreams of success had to be thrown out the window while others were able to live out their ambitions without any hiccups? Why had I become the victim of cruel fate? Maybe it was the pandemic, my dwindling mental health, or maybe it was a sign that my time in Australia had come to its end.

The storm inside me eventually subsided. I came to accept that things happen for a reason. Thankfully, 2.5 years in, I rarely feel the urge to book a one-way flight ticket back to Sydney. I’ve managed to develop friendships that keep me afloat. I’ve managed to find hobbies that keep my mind and body at peace. I’ve managed to see the positives that have come with my return back home. Sometimes I still reminisce about my time back in Australia and think to myself, “Would I be as content as I am now if I were still back in Sydney?”. Truthfully, no one has the answer to this but I do like to wonder. In an alternate reality, I hope the Farah who decided to stay in Sydney is happy, content, and living life to the fullest.

As for the Farah who decided to come back home to KL, I hope she knows that the decision to come back wasn’t for nothing.