The first days alone in Australia hit harder than the ten years of wanting it.
Some background: I closed the restaurant I ran for seven years, and we decided to move our family from Germany to Australia for good. I flew out first, on my own. My wife and our two young kids follow next month. So right now I'm setting things up alone on the other side of the world.
I expected the logistics to be the hard part. They weren't. The first few days were.
The drive from the airport to where we're headed, I cried almost the whole way. First it was just grief out of nowhere, hitting me that I was alone at the far end of the planet, no kids, no wife, no parents, no friends. Then closer in it flipped to crying out of relief, six months of work finally turning real. I've never been on an emotional swing like that.
The first two or three days weren't good. Grim little room, rain that didn't stop, and for the first time in months, actual quiet to think instead of just grinding through a list. That quiet was the hard part. I realised I'd rushed the goodbyes, especially with my own parents, and I'd give a lot to have taken more time over that. It landed properly that I'll now see the people closest to me every couple of years instead of every week.
The thing that surprised me most: being alone wasn't the little break I half expected. It just showed me how much my family is the actual home, not the place. Sleeping alone, waking up alone, eating alone drove that home fast.
It's not all heavy. The first drive into the hinterland here had me shouting with joy in the car like an idiot. And I'm past the lowest point now, starting to look forward to them landing instead of just missing them.
I'm putting this here because the version people usually post is the arrival photo with a caption about living the dream. This is the other half of it. If you've moved somewhere far on your own, did the first days hit you like this too, and how long until it settled?