Due to visa complications I haven’t been home to see my family since I moved continents five years ago. I had no idea when I left that I would never see my dog or the only home that I had ever known ever again.

I’m extremely concerned that I’m also pining for a place that doesn’t exist any more.

Remind me of some quotes:

And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.

No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.

Recently, I came back home after 2.5 years of studying and working abroad. Home (family, friends, scene, etc.) didn’t change much, but I definitely felt something off that it was hard to describe. I grew out of it, I suppose.

Hello,

I switched countries a few years back, but I still visit every few months to see my family and friends there. I definitely get what you mean, sometimes it’s not even that the place has changed that much, but it’s more that you have changed. I don’t think there is really any way to deal with this feeling.

Have a good day.

I grew up poor in the south. I built a pretty okay career, primarily in D.C. Over the last few years, my visits home have had a similar feeling.

For me, it’s not just seeing everyone age, but seeing how they’ve chosen to “settle” in many ways. There’s a realization that many family members have developed as much as they ever will. When I was young, it was possible to imagine myself as a “temporarily embarrassed millionaire.” One day, I’d be able to come back and just fix it all for everyone, if I were successful enough. Now I increasingly see the absurdity of that thinking. It’s a struggle. It’s likely to continue to be a struggle. Many have already gone–so much for helping them have things a little easier. It’s utterly unfair. And you’re more painfully aware of those realities through adult eyes.

Beyond that, a childhood home is a complex thing. I have many positive memories of the place, but I have many really dark memories that also hang over the same place. Those are things I didn’t wrestle with until I got older, which partially accounts for the change in feeling.

The bright side for me is that, despite all of this, I have started to see a more full picture of where I grew up. For years, I could only see the bad, but having dealt with that a little better by now, I can begin to appreciate its charms. It has started to lend a mystique to a place I thought could never rise above humdrum, at best.

Thomas Wolfe had it right: you can’t go home again.

Hey dude, similar experience here.

I grew up a minority, and went to study abroad where my ethnicity is the majority, then stayed for work. People would assume I’m local by my appearance, and as long as I don’t have to speak, I’m blending in. I visit home quite often, once in one or two years, but every time, the feeling of being an outsider grows. I haven’t been contacting most of my friends for a while, and my personal values have changed. As you said, parents are ageing, streets are different, and the empty lots I used to play in have been built.

Even though I said I feel more welcome in my current residence, being a foreigner means some landlords don’t let me rent their apartment, and some banking services aren’t open for me. Can’t buy properties either.

I feel like an outsider anywhere I go, and I come from a country with stupidly weak passport. Can’t have multiple nationalities either.

But I’ll visit home often, and spend more time with my family. Time flies and things change too quickly, it’ll be good to celebrate what little we have.

I’ve been away from the UK for a couple of decades. I don’t feel especially at home anywhere any more. The first time I went back the homesickness was far stronger than I expected. The last time I went back, I realized I have a North American vocabulary now and I speak with a different inflection than the locals. I hope I don’t have too horrible a mid-Atlantic accent. But it made me feel like I don’t fit in there, and I never quite feel like I fit in here. Plus there’s the disconcerting way it looks like home but the town and the people have all changed so it feels like I just arrived from the past. I don’t get the pop culture references any more, the country is contending with different problems, and the politics is unfamiliar except in broad outline. It is a weird feeling.

My hometown has been amalgamated into the nearby city, and my old neighbourhood is totally unrecognizable. If not for the street names, I would’ve just driven by without even a glimmer of recognition.

Speaking to other people from around here, I realise my hometown was always kind of shitty. Close to the highway and industry and not really meant for families, but in my memories it’s all so bright and beautiful, and full of kids.

Anyway, that’s all to say that we add our own rose tint to the past no matter what. It sounds like you grew up in a pretty ok spot, with some real greenspace. Maybe that’s some comfort? That you actually have something real and good to feel nostalgic over?

I had kind of a similar experience a while ago. My parents moved a couple times after I went to college but kept a lot of the furniture between moves. I visited one xmas and slept in my childhood bed, next to my childhood dresser in a completely different house, on a completely different side of the country. A lot of the same chairs were there in the living room. For a variety of reasons I don’t tell my parents much about my private life. Most of the conversations picked up from around when I was a teenager.

It felt like everyone but me wanted me to feel like I was right back at home and nothing was different. We’d pressed rewind for more than a decade and should be able to pick up right where we left off. I wasn’t the weird, deeply depressed and anxious person I’d become; I was supposed to still be the awkward, slightly hopeful teenager. And I could not connect in any way. Being surrounded by just enough of the artifacts from my childhood only made it weirder. Things are better now for all of us, but I still have dreams about it. They’re not exactly nightmares, but I’m rarely happy when I wake up.

I joined the military when I couldn’t figure out what to do with my life and I’ve been back a handful of times

It’s rough. At first I didn’t like going home because I felt I could have a better time just staying where I was stationed and enjoying my time off. Eventually I came back around and I stopped feeling anxious.

It sucks the first few times because it isn’t the same feeling of home.

Absolutely. My wife and I moved to our current city in 2015. We always visited our shared home city at least 1-2 times a year. Due to the pandemic we didn’t go home from 2019-2022. When we finally went to visit again in 2022 it was honestly unsettling.

The current area we live is urban/rapidly growing and has a rather young population. Where we both grew up is relatively stagnant. Being back where we came from felt like living life without color. Everyone just seemed depressed—no one was wearing color. It was just sad. We had picked up on it during previous visits, but the shock going from 2019 to 2022 was wild. We haven’t been back since, so maybe it’s better now?

For our situation I think there’s objective reasons as to why it feels different (I think there are in your situation as well), but I think some of it has to do with getting older. You can never really go back. You will forever see your old home through the eyes of an adult, and not the eyes of a child.

The town and hospital where I was born has a name I cannot pronounce and uses letters I can’t currently replicate.

I got lost driving in the town where the school was from which I graduated - and thus first learned to drive - since trashy bungalow sprawl has created new roads and subdivisions that all look alike. Thank fuck for gMaps, but fuck you to the pride that had me navigating by memory.

I’m okay getting lost where I am, now, as the place I’d go back to no longer exists and I’d probably get lost there too.

Thomas Wolfe wrote “You can’t go home again.” I remember going back to my parents house after moving out and I couldn’t believe how small everything looked - them included. And when I go back to the wonderful area that I grew up in - which was fairly rural at the time - there was nothing there but fields, streams, and mountain views and now it’s all developed into condos and apartments, no wild areas left at all, and lots of highway.

SIGH. The world I once knew is gone. I had a pretty idyllic childhood so i can’t complain, at least I had it once. But yeah it’s so different to go back and realize nothing is the way it was or the way you thought it was going to be.