6 Signals Your Body Is Telling You to Return to Your Homeland — Even If You’re Resisting the Change

I moved away for all the right reasons. Adventure. Love. Growth. A new chapter in a different city or country with big energy and bigger dreams. I thought the move would shake me into a fuller version of myself — the kind of woman who chases experience instead of comfort.

And for a while, it worked. I felt alive. I felt brave. But now... something feels off.

Not loud or dramatic. But quiet. Like a whisper under the skin. A tug in the gut. A twist in the heart.

And I’m starting to wonder if the body knows before the brain does: That maybe it’s time to go home.

Here are the six signals my body has been quietly sending me — signs I’ve tried to ignore but can’t anymore.

1. Nights Out Feel More Like a Chore Than a Celebration

Once, I lived for the spontaneous energy of late nights. Now? I find myself faking excitement. The music is too loud, the people feel too temporary, and I’m checking my phone more than I’m present.

It’s not that I’ve outgrown fun — I’ve just outgrown this version of it.

2. Your Living Space Feels Like a Struggle, Not a Sanctuary

I used to romanticize small apartments and messy kitchens like a rite of passage. But now I walk into my place and feel... boxed in.

When I think about what kind of life I could build back home — the space, the security, the stillness — I feel this strange ache for ease. And for once, I’m not judging myself for it.

3. Your Body Feels Heavier — Even When You’re “Doing Fine”

I’m not talking about weight. I’m talking about energy. Breathing. Waking up. That chronic fatigue that comes from pretending you’re okay in a place where you no longer feel like yourself.

No matter how many green smoothies or hot yoga classes I try, my nervous system still feels like it’s whispering: “I miss being known.”

4. Your Parents Are Ageing — And the Guilt is Loud

Every FaceTime call ends with a strange mix of warmth and guilt. My parents smile and tell me they’re proud, but I can see it — the longing in their eyes, the slow fading of their energy.

And the memory of me — the daughter who was always around, who laughed at the kitchen table, who knew where everything was in the house — it feels like a story now. Not a reality.

It’s hard to say it out loud, but here it is I miss being close enough to show up.

5. Your Friendships Back Home Are Moving Forward Without You

You watch your childhood friends have babies, buy homes, throw milestone parties you can’t attend because the flight is too long, or the timing is off.

You love your new friends — but it’s not the same. The inside jokes are different. The bonds are newer. And deep down, there’s this grief in knowing that life is happening without you.

6. You Dream of Home When You’re Not Distracted

When the noise fades — when you’re lying in bed, when you’re scrolling without purpose, when you wake up from sleep — where does your mind go?

Mine drifts home. To the smell of familiar kitchens. To laughter I didn’t have to earn. To streets that don’t feel like a test.

And I’ve realized: that isn’t regression. It’s remembering who I am without the performance.

We’re taught to always chase the next thing. To stay gone long enough to “make it count." To prove that leaving home was worth it.

But what if returning home isn’t a failure — it’s a rebirth? What if your body isn’t resisting change... but inviting you into the next version of yourself?

The version that’s not trying to impress anyone. The version that wants deeper roots, not taller towers. The version that’s not chasing a place to belong — because she already knows where that is.

Listen to the signals. You’re not lost. You’re just being gently called home.

Love Cass xoxo