I Didn’t Know Where I Fit Yet

When I first moved, I didn’t think about identity. I thought about practical things, work, housing, how to get around, how to settle in. Everything felt immediate, like there was always something that needed attention. There wasn’t much space to think beyond what needed to be done.

But over time, something else started to surface. It wasn’t obvious at first, and it didn’t arrive all at once. It showed up in small moments, in conversations, in how I responded to simple questions. Slowly, I became aware that I was adjusting in ways I hadn’t planned for.

I didn’t feel like I had lost anything. At least, not in a way I could clearly name. But I also didn’t feel fully like myself, and that was harder to understand. It was like standing in a space that looked familiar but didn’t quite feel like home.

There were days I felt settled, like I was finding my rhythm. Work made sense, conversations flowed, and things felt normal. Then there were other days when everything felt slightly out of place, like I was still trying to understand where I belonged.

It wasn’t something I could easily explain. People assume that once you move and things stabilise, everything falls into place. But there’s a part of the experience that continues quietly in the background, the part where you are still figuring out who you are in this new version of your life.

I started to notice it more in everyday situations. Simple things, like how I introduced myself, or how I described home, began to feel different. Sometimes I would pause, not because I didn’t know the answer, but because the answer felt more complicated than it used to be.

Home wasn’t just one place anymore. It had stretched across time and distance in a way I hadn’t expected. And somewhere in that shift, I realised that I had changed too.

There were moments I missed the ease of being understood without needing to explain anything. The familiarity of shared experiences, the comfort of not having to adjust or translate parts of myself. Here, I was learning that understanding takes time, not just from others, but from myself.

I began to realise that identity isn’t something fixed. It moves, it stretches, it adapts, sometimes quietly and sometimes all at once. Migration has a way of bringing that to the surface, whether you are ready for it or not.

You don’t lose who you are. But you become more aware of it in ways you didn’t expect. You start to see the parts of yourself you once took for granted.

Now, I don’t try to define it too quickly. Some days I feel connected to where I came from. Other days I feel rooted in where I am.

Most days, it’s somewhere in between. And I’ve started to accept that maybe that’s the point. Not to fit neatly into one place, but to learn how to exist across both.