The Illusion That Your Life Would be Easier Elsewhere (Spoiler: It Wouldn't)
How a post in a Facebook group for Italian women in the U.S. helped me break out of a spiral of nostalgia and complaint
Last year, I found myself struggling through the low point of my cultural adjustment to life in the U.S.
My dissatisfaction wasn’t tied to just one thing — it was a tangled web of sudden health issues I had to navigate just as I familiarized with the dreaded American health insurance system; frustration over the limitations imposed by my work visa; and a growing sense of disconnection stemming from the double-edged nature of my job’s remote setup.
The daily “What am I doing here?” and “Did I make the right choice?” kept echoing louder in my mind, soon joined by a growing nostalgia for home in Italy.
At a certain point, my dissatisfaction had reached a level I thought was only reserved for people on their very first experience abroad — certainly not for someone like me, who had lived in five different countries since the age of 21 (plus a few more during my digital nomad years):
the one where you can't stop comparing your host country to your home country.
I had become embittered, frustrated, and, most certainly, exhausting to be around.
The signs of my dissatisfaction had started leaking into my relationship too, like water through the holes of a colander.
Arguments with my partner often ended with some sophisticated version of my most venomous, biting comment:
"Moving to the U.S. was never part of my plan before I met you, and if I have to give up my green card by moving back, so be it."
To which he would often respond, in a much calmer tone:
"If you see that you’re not happy here and decide you want to move back, I’m sure we could figure out a temporary long-distance setup until I can join you in Italy.
Ugh.
Around that same time, I had started scrolling through a Facebook group for Italian women living in the U.S.—a very active community of thousands spread across the country, from megacities like New York and LA to the tiniest towns in Wisconsin or Texas.
The community members relied on that group for everything:
from tips on navigating the health insurance scams, to divorce lawyer referrals, to advice on enrolling kids in school and updates on green card processes.
Beyond day-to-day logistics, the group also served as a lifeline for emotional support.
As I skimmed through dozens of daily posts from every corner of America, I began to feel less alone.
My feelings of frustration, sadness, and guilt for not being more grateful felt validated.
Women from all walks of life, yet with a similar cultural background to mine, were echoing my internal struggles:
"I’m not the only one dealing with this!" I remember thinking.
Then, one afternoon I stumbled on a post:
In it, an Italian woman shared, anonymously, her deep unhappiness after moving to the States to be with her American husband.
After enduring the long, arduous bureaucratic process, she had finally secured her permanent resident card. In theory, she could now return to Italy at any time — but she felt lost.
She described growing up in the Italian countryside, surrounded by nature, and was now struggling to adapt to living in was she perceived as a flat, unsafe, and culturally sterile town.
She was also unhappy with her job, which, although well-paid, offered very few PTO days. As a result, she missed her family intensely.
Finally, although she had always dreamed of having a large family, she was now questioning that dream, unable to imagine raising children far from their grandparents and in a place that felt wrong to her.
Her husband, while loving and supportive, couldn't fully bridge her sadness.
The post ended with her asking the community if they had ever felt the same, and whether they had advice or reflections to share.
The post had sparked a pretty big engagement — over 80 likes and 115 comments.
I found myself reading those comments with the same intensity as watching an engaging soap opera.
Although her feelings were much more intense than mine, I resonated with her sense of being lost, uncertain about how to move forward, and questioning her own decisions after making quite a big effort to be here.
While many comments were sympathetic, others took a more prescriptive tone, suggesting she stop complaining and take action.
In a nutshell, the advice in the comments fell into three main categories:
“Move back to Italy — if that's what you truly want.”
“Try moving to California — it made a huge difference for me.”
“Stop whining. Accept that the U.S. and Italy are two different worlds. Since you are here, focus on what this country can offer, things you might struggle to find back home: career, money, opportunities.”
Woah.
But also, ouch.
Reading the comments to the post, especially the ones falling in the third category, felt like someone had thrown a bucket of ice-cold water over me!
In my mind, I pictured these Italian women — 10, 20, 30 years older than me — staring at me with a wise but unforgiving gaze, pointing a finger as they delivered a hard, but needed, lesson:
STAY.IN.THE.PRESENT.
And focus on the positives you can gain from this experience.
I can’t recall how long I mulled over those comments, but at some point, I had a quiet conversation with myself where I responded to the three main inputs:
No, I didn’t want to move back to Italy—not after everything I had poured into first finding a visa sponsorship and then applying for a green card.
No, California wasn’t calling me either. This—right here, right now—was exactly where I was meant to be, at least for now.
And yes, it was true: when in Italy, I looked forward to joining my partner in the US, and now that I was in the States, I was looking back at my home country with nostalgic eyes. In short, I was stuck in the loop of thinking my life would always be easier somewhere else.
Making peace with this realization in the following months helped me become more present and stop living in an alternate reality.
Sure, it’s not perfect. But it chipped away at the illusion that somewhere else, there’s a land where life will flow effortlessly and I will feel completely at peace.
Thank you for reading Freedom Focus! I’d love to hear from you:
What helps you move on when you feel stuck comparing 'here' to 'there'?
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Really interesting read, Caterina. It's so true that wherever you go, there you are (probably the quote I see the most on Substack these days!). And it's also true that living abroad lends itself to a life of constant missing. I fall into the camp of people who do believe that your location can have a huge impact on your outlook and life experience. But it certainly doesn't erase all your problems.
There's so much value and importance in being present and grateful for what you have. Acceptance is also a magical thing. Thank you for sharing this!
Cate! What can I say — wherever we are, the call of the sea finds us, doesn’t it?
There’s so much wrapped up in that feeling, and I know it well. For me, it’s nostalgia for home — and home, for me, means the sea. Sometimes I miss it like I miss air. When that happens, I cook something that carries the flavors and scents of the South, and for the duration of a meal, I travel. I also meditate, and in my mind, I go back to a small village by the sea in my region — my place of inner peace.
But it’s not just about home. It’s also that feeling of possibly missing out on a place that might suit me better. A kind of FOMO, you know?
What helps me, is creating routines connected to my passions where I live, and finding little refuge spots — places where I feel at home, even far from home.
But the truth is, whenever I return home, or even when I move to a new country, that feeling simply shifts — it becomes nostalgia for the last place I called home. The one constant is the sea’s call. And only by going back to it for a few days can I truly quiet that longing.