After a semester abroad, I thought going home would feel easy. Familiar. Like slipping back into something I already knew. Instead, it felt strange in a way I couldn’t quite describe. I was surrounded by the people I love – my family and friends, people I’ve known for years. Yet, something still felt off. Conversations didn’t flow the same way, and I was quieter than usual, more aware of myself, almost like I didn’t fit into the spaces I once moved through so effortlessly. I expected comfort, but instead, I felt like a guest in my own past.
When I went abroad, my life continued somewhere else. At the same time, my friends and family continued living their own lives. Time passed for all of us, just in different places. But when I came home, I realized how much had happened while I was away. It was all in the small details- the shared experiences I wasn’t there for, the inside jokes I didn’t fully understand, and the changes I had to be told about instead of getting to live through. I had left everyone at a specific point in their lives, and by the time I returned, they were no longer standing in the same place. I didn’t know how to slip back into our old ways of being together, because it just wasn’t like that anymore, and that hesitance made even the familiar interactions feel awkward.
It was that awkwardness that worried me. I wondered if I was becoming the stereotypical ‘awkward medical student’. I wondered if studying abroad had changed me in the wrong ways. I missed the version of myself that felt instantly comfortable and bubbly. When I spoke to my mom about how strange my interactions felt, she told me it was growth. At first, I didn’t understand what she meant, because to me, growth was supposed to be something honorable and noteworthy. But she was describing something quieter. It was about learning not to force myself back into old behaviors just because they’re familiar. It was about acknowledging and reflecting on the change instead of pretending nothing happened. It was about allowing myself to pause rather than performing just to feel close again. I realized that what I thought was awkwardness was actually awareness. I was noticing the gaps instead of rushing to cover them up. I respected myself enough to sit with the discomfort instead of smoothing it over.
Looking at it from this perspective made me think differently about staying connected. Growth doesn’t have to mean losing the people you love. Instead, learning to connect more intentionally through small, everyday efforts, whether through staying active in group chats, sharing photos or moments as they happen, or sending random, funny, and seemingly insignificant Snaps, can make the biggest difference. It’s about finding ways to stay present in each other’s lives without relying on physical proximity.
Going home didn’t feel like going back because I wasn’t meant to return to who I was. I didn’t lose myself, I just grew in all the right ways- and so did the people I love. Maybe going home wasn’t about going back at all. Maybe it’s about learning to carry the people you love forward with you as you keep moving ahead.