The naked truth about relocating and remote work
The idea of remote work is attractive. Imagine that — you can work from anywhere, save time commuting, and get more focus to get shit done.
I still believe it can work for many people depending on your life setup. Maybe you have a family, which allows you to spend more time with them, or it makes your nomad lifestyle possible. Well, good for you!
My story is not as simple. But here we go.
My company made it possible to pick whether to work remotely, entirely from the office, or something in between (hybrid mode). And I thought — this is the chance to do something that wasn’t possible before — keep my job and work from anywhere!
I picked Portugal — good weather all year round (supposedly), friendly people, the beach around the block. And I already did move once to a different country, so hard could it be?
Turns out pretty hard. For the first few months, I struggled with my identity and the pressure to find friends and be happy (cause everyone was so supportive and envious of me moving to Porto).
The first time I moved, things were easier. Prague never really felt like my home, and it was always my dream to move abroad. I had nothing holding me back. Vienna welcomed me with open arms. I worked in a fast-growing startup which felt like a fraternity. I’ve met many incredible people, and I even started to appreciate all seasons of the year (in the past, I really didn’t like winter, but with the Viennese Christmas markets tradition, it has become a season I would look forward to every time). It was not 100% perfect. I went through a breakup, learned that friendships come and go, and experienced what a toxic work environment means. However, after 3 years of living there, I had my routines, friends, and place. You could say I didn’t have a strong (if any) reason to leave. But I’m an opportunist. Remote working seemed like an opportunity I shouldn’t miss out on.
The whole move was painful (to put it simply). Not only because of packing and saying goodbyes but also because of gradually selling all the furniture that, at one point, I hand-picked to make that flat feel like home. I know, I know; it’s materialistic, and possibly I should not be attached to things, but still. It was not easy. Slowly the apartment was being deconstructed to just a set of walls and packing boxes. It would no longer feel like home. No more couch to sit on, no more closet to store items, no more table to share dinner at. You get the idea. This constant feeling of letting go made me depressed. I would close off from my friends since I didn’t want to dump my negativity on them. However, I am fortunate to have friends who kept checking on me and were truly there.
I thought the move would be the worst, and then things would get better. Once I’m in Porto, I will be fine. Once I am on that flight I can put everything behind. Once I unpack I am ready for the new adventure. Life resumes.
Well…I got more depressed. Without my friends, my routines, and the opportunities I felt I had in Vienna, I started to ask myself — who am I? I tried new hobbies and did more sports, but it was just a temporary distraction. The things that once made me happy felt like:
Why am I even doing this? Why am I wasting my time? What am I doing?
For that few months, I lost my motivation, passion for my job, and the will to meet new people. My expectations before the move were to start making friends from day one. In reality, I began seeing people only after about 3 months.
“So, do you already have friends?”
A funny question I would get asked by my family. Well — no. I did meet people, but it takes time to call someone a friend (or maybe it’s just an introvert thing). What actually happened is I started to spend more time by myself. There are Facebook groups and apps like Bumble to make friends, but you never arrange a date, or if you do, people cancel on you at the last minute. So, if you’re like me, you accept that you’d rather do things alone than wait for someone to join (I finally understand solo travelers).
The funny thing is that no matter how much you accept that things take time, it’s still hard. But the more time passes, the better it gets (hopefully).
I’m doing better (5 months since the move). I don’t have friends, I don’t have a work community, and I still think of my old Vienna apartment when thinking about going home. But I’m doing my best.
In the end, I am not asking for advice or trying to complain. I’m beyond grateful for the support I have received from my partner, my ‘old’ friends and my colleagues. And it was me who decided for this change in the first place.
All I want to do is bring some reality to this world where it feels like we should always be happy and ‘start romanticizing your life’ and ‘live every moment’. Remote work is hard, relocating is even harder and finding your place in the new reality you create might be the hardest. But I’m here for it.
Are you?
