What Living in Three Countries in One Year Taught Me About “Home”

When I packed my bags and set off to live in three different countries in just one year, I told myself I was chasing adventure. I framed it as curiosity, growth, and freedom. I wanted new stamps in my passport, unfamiliar languages in my ears, and stories I could carry with me for life.

What I did not expect was that this constant movement would quietly dismantle everything I thought I knew about home.

I assumed home was something you left behind or something you eventually returned to. I believed it lived in a familiar city, a permanent address, a place where your things stayed put even when you did not. But after a year of arrivals and departures, unpacking and packing again, home became something far more complex, fragile, and deeply personal.

Living in three countries in one year did not just change where I lived. It changed how I understood belonging, stability, and myself.

Lesson 1: Home Is Not a Place, It Is a Feeling

In the first country I moved to, I became obsessed with finding the “right” apartment. I believed that if I could just secure the perfect space, everything else would fall into place. I spent hours scrolling through listings, comparing neighborhoods, and measuring distance to cafés and grocery stores. I thought the right walls would somehow make me feel grounded.

But even after moving in, something felt missing. The apartment was comfortable enough, but it did not feel like home. It felt like shelter.

Then one evening, a new friend invited me over for tea. We sat on her balcony, the city humming below us, laughing through broken translations and shared misunderstandings. There were no expectations. No performance. Just warmth.

That was the moment it clicked.

Home was not the apartment I was paying for. Home was the ease I felt in that conversation. It was the sense of being seen, even imperfectly. It was belonging without ownership.

From that point on, I stopped searching for home in real estate and started noticing it in moments. A shared meal. A familiar smile. A place where I could exhale.

Lesson 2: Your Rituals Matter More Than Your Location

Moving between countries meant that everything was unfamiliar all the time. New bus systems. New currencies. New grocery stores where I did not recognize half the ingredients. Even simple tasks required thought and effort.

At first, I found this exhilarating. Then it became exhausting.

What grounded me was not the city itself, but the rituals I carried with me. Morning journaling, no matter where I was. Evening walks, even if I got lost. Cooking the same comfort meal once a week, even if the ingredients were slightly different.

These rituals became my anchors. They reminded me that while everything around me could change, something within me remained steady. Home began to feel less like a destination and more like a rhythm I could recreate anywhere.

I learned that familiarity does not have to come from a place. It can come from repetition. From intention. From choosing small moments of consistency in the middle of uncertainty.

Lesson 3: Letting Go Creates Space for Belonging

In one of the countries I lived in, I carried the label of “outsider” like armor. I told myself I was just passing through, that there was no point getting too attached. I observed more than I participated. I kept emotional distance to protect myself from the pain of leaving.

Unsurprisingly, I felt isolated.

In the next country, I tried something different. I joined language classes even though I was terrible at pronunciation. I shopped at local markets instead of international supermarkets. I asked neighbors for advice, even when I felt awkward.

I was still foreign. I still made mistakes. But I stopped hiding behind the idea that I did not belong.

Letting go of my own internal barriers changed everything. People met me where I finally allowed myself to show up. I learned that belonging is often less about being invited in and more about being willing to step forward.

Lesson 4: Home Lives in the Body, Not the Map

What surprised me most was how fluid my definition of home became. Some days, home was a small apartment with a squeaky fan where I taught myself to cook simple meals. Other days, it was a coworking space filled with shared laughter and late-night deadlines.

Sometimes, home was not even a place. It was my backpack. The one constant companion that moved with me from country to country. Everything I needed fit inside it. In a strange way, that made me feel safe.

I began to understand that home is a state of ease in your own body. It is the moment you stop resisting where you are. The moment you allow yourself to belong, even temporarily. Home is not permanent. It is present.

Lesson 5: Leaving Teaches You to Value Staying

The hardest part of living in three countries in one year was leaving just as roots were beginning to form. Just as the barista learned my order. Just as friendships were deepening. Just as the city was starting to feel familiar.

Leaving hurts every time.

But that ache taught me something invaluable. It taught me to cherish moments while I am still in them. To not postpone connection. To not wait for “someday.”

I learned to slow down within each place, even knowing it was temporary. To listen more closely. To be fully there.

Home does not always last forever. Sometimes it exists only for a season. And that does not make it less real. It makes it more precious.

How This Changed the Way I Live

Living in three countries in one year reshaped how I move through the world. I no longer chase the idea of settling as a finish line. I no longer believe that stability only exists in staying put. Instead, I build stability within myself.

I invest in people, even when I know goodbyes are inevitable. I create routines that travel with me. I allow myself to feel connected without needing permanence.

Home is no longer something I am searching for. It is something I am creating, again and again, wherever I land.

Final Reflection

Living in three countries in one year did not make me a citizen of the world. It made me someone who understands that home is fluid.

Home is not a dot on a map. It is not a perfect apartment. It is not the country listed on your passport.

Home is wherever you allow yourself to soften. Wherever you connect. Wherever you feel alive.

Sometimes, the bravest thing is not finding a home.

It is learning how to create one, no matter where you are.