Small Habits That Make Driving Less Stressful

     Learning how to celebrate myself again after starting over in a new country was a journey I never expected to be so emotional. Moving across an ocean, or even just a border, can make you feel invisible sometimes, swallowed up by a sea of unfamiliar faces and accents. At first, I poured all my focus into blending in, getting things right, making sure I wasn’t too loud or too different. But after a while, I realized I missed the version of myself who used to laugh too hard at family parties, wear bright colors without wondering if it was “appropriate,” and unapologetically brought my own food to gatherings. There is something indescribable about feeling like you have to rebuild every part of who you are and it’s easy to lose the little rituals that used to bring joy. For me, celebrating myself used to be as simple as dancing in the kitchen while making dinner or buying flowers for no reason. In a new country, I caught myself living in survival mode, too cautious to claim my own happiness out loud. It took a late-night phone call with my mom back home, her voice reminding me how much I’d already done, for me to realize that just existing here was worth celebrating.

     The first time I let myself splurge on a pastry from the local bakery, I felt guilty. Wasn’t I supposed to be saving every penny? But that little treat took me straight back to mornings in my hometown, when a sweet snack and hot coffee meant the day was full of promise. I started to let myself recreate those memories even if imperfectly and each small act felt like an act of self-love. I learned that celebrating myself wasn’t selfish or frivolous. It was a way of building a home in my own heart, even when everything else around me felt uncertain. Some days, celebration looked like cooking a meal from back home, inviting new friends to try the flavors that carried the taste of nostalgia. Other days, it meant simply spending an evening on the phone with family, laughing over old jokes that crossed oceans. There were moments I felt like two different people, but the more I honored my need for comfort, joy, and connection, the more grounded I became. There’s this quiet resilience that grows from acknowledging your victories, no matter the size. The first time someone complimented my pronunciation in this new language, I replayed those words in my head for days. Every milestone, big or small, became a reason to treat myself with kindness. I realized that life abroad doesn’t have to be a constant uphill battle we’re allowed to pause, look around, and pat ourselves on the back. Time softens the sharpness of missing home, but it also gives you the bravery to plant bits of yourself in new soil.

     I never imagined I’d find joy in the little things I do for myself. Lighting a candle that smells like my grandmother’s kitchen, wearing an outfit that makes me feel bold again, or even just watching my favorite comedy in my first language all of these became thin, golden threads weaving comfort through the uncertainty. If you’d told me when I first arrived that the hardest part wouldn’t be the paperwork, but the quiet moments alone, learning how to let joy in again, I’m not sure I would have believed you. But it’s true. Holding space for celebration feels vulnerable, but it also feels like reclaiming my story. Each day, I feel a bit braver about saying, even in a new place, I deserve to be celebrated. So if you find yourself struggling to celebrate even your smallest wins, know you’re not alone. We all stumble. We all miss parts of ourselves that were easier to love back home. But this journey, with all its twists and loneliness, gives us a rare chance to notice what matters, to nurture ourselves, and to cheer on the people we’re becoming.

Looking for deeper guidance and real structure? Explore the Immigrant Starter Pack to feel more confident in your journey.