u/Serious_Current_793

I genuinely don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore, and I feel completely stuck between two lives that both scare me in different ways.

Part of me wants to go back home because every time I'm there, I relax. I'm less stressed. I can breathe again. If my son is sick, I'm not panicking trying to figure everything out alone. There are adults around me, noise, life, support, and I know my son would probably love growing up surrounded by family like that, the way I did.

But at the same time, being there also overwhelms me. Everyone has opinions. Everyone tells you how to raise your child, what you should do better, what he should already know at his age, how other kids are doing compared to him. People are constantly on top of you, criticizing. And after a while, I start feeling trapped again, like I did when I was younger.

That’s the part nobody understands. I loved my childhood there, but once I became a teenager, I felt suffocated. I felt trapped, and all I wanted was to leave and go as far away as possible. I left thinking it would be for one year, and somehow that turned into 15 years.

Now my whole adult life and identity is tied to the fact that English became part of who I am. Living independently became part of who I am. And I’m scared that if I go back permanently, I’ll slowly lose myself and feel emotionally trapped all over again for the next 15 years.

But staying here in New Zealand scares me too because I’m alone.

His dad is here physically, but not really in a way that changes the mental load of raising a child. He talks to him every day, sees him a few evenings a week for a couple hours, spends a full day with him when he can, and my son loves him. But long term, his dad doesn’t even see himself staying here forever. Eventually, he’d probably move back to England or somewhere else. So realistically, I’ll still end up alone here.

And honestly, I’m already exhausted, and my son is only three and a half.

I keep thinking every public holiday, every school holiday, every summer holiday… it stresses me out. I keep thinking, how do people survive this without family? After-school programs, camps, holiday care… I know it’s normal for a lot of families, but because I didn’t grow up like that, it feels wrong to me somehow.

I grew up always having someone around. Family looked after each other naturally. So now I feel guilty imagining my son being sent to camps or programs simply because I have no support around me.

And I keep asking myself: would he actually be happier growing up surrounded by family, even if I feel trapped there? Or would he be happier here, where maybe he has more freedom long term, but less family and a mother who is constantly stressed and overwhelmed?

That’s what scares me the most. I don’t know which decision ruins my life more, and I don’t know which one ruins his life more.

Because if I stay here, I’m scared I’ll burn out emotionally from doing everything alone.

And if I go back, I’m scared I’ll slowly disappear as a person and become deeply unhappy again and feel trapped.

I genuinely don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore, and I feel completely stuck between two lives that both scare me in different ways.

Part of me wants to go back home because every time I'm there, I relax. I'm less stressed. I can breathe again. If my son is sick, I'm not panicking trying to figure everything out alone. There are adults around me, noise, life, support, and I know my son would probably love growing up surrounded by family like that, the way I did.

But at the same time, being there also overwhelms me. Everyone has opinions. Everyone tells you how to raise your child, what you should do better, what he should already know at his age, how other kids are doing compared to him. People are constantly on top of you, criticizing. And after a while, I start feeling trapped again, like I did when I was younger.

That’s the part nobody understands. I loved my childhood there, but once I became a teenager, I felt suffocated. I felt trapped, and all I wanted was to leave and go as far away as possible. I left thinking it would be for one year, and somehow that turned into 15 years.

Now my whole adult life and identity is tied to the fact that English became part of who I am. Living independently became part of who I am. And I’m scared that if I go back permanently, I’ll slowly lose myself and feel emotionally trapped all over again for the next 15 years.

But staying here in New Zealand scares me too because I’m alone.

His dad is here physically, but not really in a way that changes the mental load of raising a child. He talks to him every day, sees him a few evenings a week for a couple hours, spends a full day with him when he can, and my son loves him. But long term, his dad doesn’t even see himself staying here forever. Eventually, he’d probably move back to England or somewhere else. So realistically, I’ll still end up alone here.

And honestly, I’m already exhausted, and my son is only three and a half.

I keep thinking every public holiday, every school holiday, every summer holiday… it stresses me out. I keep thinking, how do people survive this without family? After-school programs, camps, holiday care… I know it’s normal for a lot of families, but because I didn’t grow up like that, it feels wrong to me somehow.

I grew up always having someone around. Family looked after each other naturally. So now I feel guilty imagining my son being sent to camps or programs simply because I have no support around me.

And I keep asking myself: would he actually be happier growing up surrounded by family, even if I feel trapped there? Or would he be happier here, where maybe he has more freedom long term, but less family and a mother who is constantly stressed and overwhelmed?

That’s what scares me the most. I don’t know which decision ruins my life more, and I don’t know which one ruins his life more.

Because if I stay here, I’m scared I’ll burn out emotionally from doing everything alone.

And if I go back, I’m scared I’ll slowly disappear as a person and become deeply unhappy again and feel trapped.

I genuinely don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore, and I feel completely stuck between two lives that both scare me in different ways.

Part of me wants to go back home because every time I'm there, I relax. I'm less stressed. I can breathe again. If my son is sick, I'm not panicking trying to figure everything out alone. There are adults around me and I know my son would probably love growing up surrounded by family like that, the way I did.

But at the same time, being there also overwhelms me. Everyone has opinions. Everyone tells you how to raise your child, what you should do better, what he should already know at his age, how other kids are doing compared to him. People are constantly on top of you, criticizing. And after a while, I start feeling trapped again, like I did when I was younger.

That’s the part nobody understands. I loved my childhood there, but once I became a teenager, I felt suffocated. I felt trapped, and all I wanted was to leave and go as far away as possible. I left thinking it would be for one year, and somehow that turned into 15 years.

Now my whole adult life and identity is tied to the fact that English became part of who I am. And I’m scared that if I go back permanently, I’ll slowly lose myself and feel emotionally trapped all over again for the next 15 years.

But staying here in New Zealand scares me too because I’m alone.

His dad is here physically, but not really in a way that changes the mental load of raising a child. He talks to him every day, sees him a few evenings a week for a couple hours, spends a full day with him when he can, and my son loves him. But long term, his dad doesn’t even see himself staying here forever. Eventually, he’d probably move back to England or somewhere else. So realistically, I’ll still end up alone here.

And honestly, I’m already exhausted, and my son is only three and a half.

I keep thinking every public holiday, every school holiday, every summer holiday… it stresses me out. I keep thinking, how do people survive this without family? After-school programs, camps, holiday care… I know it’s normal for a lot of families, but because I didn’t grow up like that, it feels wrong to me somehow.

I grew up always having someone around. Family looked after each other naturally. So now I feel guilty imagining my son being sent to camps or programs simply because I have no support around me.

And I keep asking myself: would he actually be happier growing up surrounded by family, even if I feel trapped there? Or would he be happier here, where maybe he has more freedom long term and speak English, but less family and a mother who is constantly stressed and overwhelmed?

That’s what scares me the most. I don’t know which decision ruins my life more, and I don’t know which one ruins his life more.

Because if I stay here, I’m scared I’ll burn out emotionally from doing everything alone.

And if I go back, I’m scared I’ll slowly disappear as a person and become deeply unhappy again and feel trapped.

I am lost. I’m turning 35 next month and I feel like I don’t know where I belong anymore.

I left my home country at 20 and have spent the last 15 years living in different English-speaking countries. English isn’t even my first language, yet somehow it became the language of my adult life, my identity, my comfort zone.

I actually had a good childhood. I grew up surrounded by siblings, cousins, aunties, uncles, grandparents. There was always something happening — birthdays, family gatherings, Christmases, summer holidays at the beach house. Our summers were amazing. We spent our days in the water, surrounded by people, noise, laughter, family. I know how lucky I was to grow up like that.

But at the same time, I came from a very small country where life felt limited, and by the time I turned 20, all I wanted was to leave and get as far away as possible. I started travelling, originally for one year, then extended for another. After two years abroad I went back home and immediately felt out of place, so I moved to another country. That was supposed to be temporary too, but then I moved again. Somehow temporary turned into 15 years away.

Now I’m a solo mum to a 3.5-year-old little boy. It’s just me and him. No family around, no village, no support system. His dad lives two minutes away but is busy with work and sees him about once a week.

I lost my job during Covid, got pregnant shortly after, and haven’t worked since. For the past few months I’ve been trying to find a part-time job but keep getting rejected. I expected it to be hard, but I didn’t realise how much it would affect my confidence and sense of self.

Since my son was born, I’ve gone back to my home country twice so my family could spend time with him. He’s the only grandchild and they absolutely adore him.

But going home is complicated.

After being away for so long, I feel like a stranger there now. Everything looks the same, but I’m not the same person anymore. I have a difficult relationship with my mum, and every time I stay at her house I suddenly feel like a teenager again — getting criticised for sleeping in, not making the bed, not doing enough.

What they don’t understand is that for me, going home is supposed to be a chance to breathe. To rest. To recharge after years of carrying motherhood completely alone.

And that’s the contradiction I can’t stop thinking about.

I know my son would probably have a beautiful childhood there. He would be surrounded by grandparents, cousins, aunties, uncles, kids everywhere, summer at the beach, family lunches, birthday parties, noise, life. The kind of childhood I had myself.

But at the same time, I also remember why I left.

My family can be loving, but also overwhelming. Everyone has opinions. Everyone tells you what they think you should do. Sometimes it feels suffocating. I worry that if I move back, eventually my son might feel the same way I did growing up — wanting space, freedom, distance.

Yet staying here feels lonely too.

I don’t feel at home anymore. I feel isolated. My son loves his dad and loves spending time with him, but his dad is busy and realistically can’t give him more time than he already does. So sometimes I sit there thinking… what am I staying for exactly? An extra day or two together each week?

Then summer comes here and I feel almost depressed. Meanwhile I picture the life he could have back home — spending entire summers at the beach with grandparents and cousins, always surrounded by people and activity — while here it’s often just me and him trying to figure out how to fill the days. Even when I spend time with friends, it still doesn’t feel the same.

I love my son more than anything, but I hate how stressed, angry, exhausted and alone motherhood has made me feel. I don’t think I hate motherhood itself. I think I hate doing it without support.

I do have a partner, technically. We’ve been together over a year, but we don’t live together, rarely spend nights together, barely have intimacy, and only see each other a couple times a week. It feels more like companionship than a real relationship.

Christmas makes me sad now. Every year feels lonely and empty while everyone else is surrounded by family traditions and chaos and warmth. Meanwhile I’m here, far away from everyone, wondering what exactly I’m holding onto.

My son starts school at the end of next year and I can feel the pressure building already. School holidays. Summer breaks. Sick days. Childcare. Work. How do solo parents survive this without support?

Part of me wants to go home for Christmas and never come back.

But that thought terrifies me too.

Because I know if I return home permanently, it will feel like admitting failure. Like going backwards. Like becoming trapped in a life I outgrew 15 years ago.

At the same time, I look at my son and wonder if I’m failing him by keeping him so isolated.

I feel torn between two lives and fully belong to neither.

One life gives me independence but loneliness.
The other offers support but feels like losing myself.

I don’t know what I want anymore. I just know I want peace. I want stability. I want my son to have a happy childhood. And I want to become a calmer, happier mother instead of someone who is constantly overwhelmed, angry, stressed and emotionally drained.

I feel stuck between guilt and fear, between freedom and belonging, between the life I built and the life I miss.

And honestly, I’m really lost.

I am lost. I’m turning 35 next month and I feel like I don’t know where I belong anymore.

I left my home country at 20 and have spent the last 15 years living in different English-speaking countries. English isn’t even my first language, yet somehow it became the language of my adult life, my identity, my comfort zone.

I actually had a good childhood. I grew up surrounded by siblings, cousins, aunties, uncles, grandparents. There was always something happening — birthdays, family gatherings, Christmases, summer holidays at the beach house. Our summers were amazing. We spent our days in the water, surrounded by people, noise, laughter, family. I know how lucky I was to grow up like that.

But at the same time, I came from a very small country where life felt limited, and by the time I turned 20, all I wanted was to leave and get as far away as possible. I started travelling, originally for one year, then extended for another. After two years abroad I went back home and immediately felt out of place, so I moved to another country. That was supposed to be temporary too, but then I moved again. Somehow temporary turned into 15 years away.

Now I’m a solo mum to a 3.5-year-old little boy. It’s just me and him. No family around, no village, no support system. His dad lives two minutes away but is busy with work and sees him about once a week.

I lost my job during Covid, got pregnant shortly after, and haven’t worked since. For the past few months I’ve been trying to find a part-time job but keep getting rejected. I expected it to be hard, but I didn’t realise how much it would affect my confidence and sense of self.

Since my son was born, I’ve gone back to my home country twice so my family could spend time with him. He’s the only grandchild and they absolutely adore him.

But going home is complicated.

After being away for so long, I feel like a stranger there now. Everything looks the same, but I’m not the same person anymore. I have a difficult relationship with my mum, and every time I stay at her house I suddenly feel like a teenager again — getting criticised for sleeping in, not making the bed, not doing enough.

What they don’t understand is that for me, going home is supposed to be a chance to breathe. To rest. To recharge after years of carrying motherhood completely alone.

And that’s the contradiction I can’t stop thinking about.

I know my son would probably have a beautiful childhood there. He would be surrounded by grandparents, cousins, aunties, uncles, kids everywhere, summer at the beach, family lunches, birthday parties, noise, life. The kind of childhood I had myself.

But at the same time, I also remember why I left.

My family can be loving, but also overwhelming. Everyone has opinions. Everyone tells you what they think you should do. Sometimes it feels suffocating. I worry that if I move back, eventually my son might feel the same way I did growing up — wanting space, freedom, distance.

Yet staying here feels lonely too.

I don’t feel at home anymore. I feel isolated. My son loves his dad and loves spending time with him, but his dad is busy and realistically can’t give him more time than he already does. So sometimes I sit there thinking… what am I staying for exactly? An extra day or two together each week?

Then summer comes here and I feel almost depressed. Meanwhile I picture the life he could have back home — spending entire summers at the beach with grandparents and cousins, always surrounded by people and activity — while here it’s often just me and him trying to figure out how to fill the days. Even when I spend time with friends, it still doesn’t feel the same.

I love my son more than anything, but I hate how stressed, angry, exhausted and alone motherhood has made me feel. I don’t think I hate motherhood itself. I think I hate doing it without support.

I do have a partner, technically. We’ve been together over a year, but we don’t live together, rarely spend nights together, barely have intimacy, and only see each other a couple times a week. It feels more like companionship than a real relationship.

Christmas makes me sad now. Every year feels lonely and empty while everyone else is surrounded by family traditions and chaos and warmth. Meanwhile I’m here, far away from everyone, wondering what exactly I’m holding onto.

My son starts school at the end of next year and I can feel the pressure building already. School holidays. Summer breaks. Sick days. Childcare. Work. How do solo parents survive this without support?

Part of me wants to go home for Christmas and never come back.

But that thought terrifies me too.

Because I know if I return home permanently, it will feel like admitting failure. Like going backwards. Like becoming trapped in a life I outgrew 15 years ago.

At the same time, I look at my son and wonder if I’m failing him by keeping him so isolated.

I feel torn between two lives and fully belong to neither.

One life gives me independence but loneliness.
The other offers support but feels like losing myself.

I don’t know what I want anymore. I just know I want peace. I want stability. I want my son to have a happy childhood. And I want to become a calmer, happier mother instead of someone who is constantly overwhelmed, angry, stressed and emotionally drained.

I feel stuck between guilt and fear, between freedom and belonging, between the life I built and the life I miss.

And honestly, I’m really lost.