After living abroad for many years, suffering from severe illness and almost dying, I desperately want to return home to be closer to my family and friends. However, I have a good life with my husband (we have no children): we both have good jobs (I managed to change careers after getting sick and got a really good new role) and a lovely house in a good area.
I feel quite lonely here because, despite my husband and Colleagues, I have few friends. I also continue to get sick because my immune system is damaged and I have a couple of autoimmune problems. I desperately want to go home and imagine an idyllic life in a beautiful little house, seeing my family and friends. Ideally, I wouldn't have to work much but spend more time with my parents during my retirement years.
I know it won't be perfect and that we take ourselves and our problems with us, but sometimes I miss home so much that it hurts. It will be a huge upheaval and cost, but I want to go home. My husband is concerned about the finances of the move, his ability to find a job, and is concerned that I won't be happy there either. I tried here, but it is impossible to make such close friends as at home. When I return, I immediately go back there as if I never left. What should I do?
Eleanor says: Of all the experts who could help us with this, while reading your letter, David Byrne's voice kept coming back to me: “How did I get here?” You can have a beautiful house and still think, “This is not my beautiful house!” It sounds like your husband notices “beautiful” things: nice neighborhood, good job, stable income. And you notice things that don't seem my.
You already know what is written in the pros and cons columns. You've been through a lot; you desperately want to go home; you feel very homesick. Money is replenished (a little), but parents and old friends are not. But there is a huge risk in idealizing a home. You left many years ago; much of what you miss is in the past. And this will be a huge cost for your husband. This may mean asking him to feel more of the dislocations so you can feel less. The problem, as always, is how to weigh things that don't use standardized units of measurement.
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I want to make a meta point: don't make this decision by adding up the days you haven't made a decision.
Because you are a person who wants change, you are vulnerable to the inertia of the status quo. To prevent you from getting what you want, it is enough that you and your husband think and talk about other things every day. Now is not the right time; I'm tired of work; this doesn't seem like a possible option. Every day of no interaction means you don't leave.
This is true for all of us who deep down scream that someday things must be different: if nothing changes, we will die in the situation we are in now. I know we all know this already, but if you're anything like me, knowing something doesn't necessarily mean admitting it.
One way to resist inertia is to simply start. You Maybe just start. Start looking for a job. Start looking for a home. Start building social networks in your professional field. Get started with any paperwork you'll need if you do decide to move: visas? Animal documentation? Proof of your relationship? Compare and plan some of the intricate details of life at home beyond the fantasy so that your husband doesn't come across as a skeptical realist.
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This seems like a cruel strategy because it looks like you decided to move without his consent. But the point is Not to carry out one's will with brute force; you won't actually get on the plane. The point is to challenge inertia.
That feeling of, “Wait, what? This seems like an important decision we have to make together” is exactly what you're trying to provoke. This is what happens to you every day when you don't solve this problem together: an important decision is made. If you start treating going home as a serious option and turn the wheels, the default of not thinking or talking about it no longer produces the “we're staying here” result.
I'm not saying move. You can burn a lot of valuables chasing an idealized past. I say, whatever you do together, don't let these days remain indecisive.
*The letter has been edited for length.
