Lesson 2: Anywhere Can Be Home
Home isn’t always a place. Sometimes, it’s people, culture, connection, and food.
For lesson two, I unravel the meaning of home—something I hadn’t planned to explore on this sabbatical. Is it external? Internal? Or something in between? Either way, this journey led to an unexpected homecoming—one of self-acceptance, belonging, and embracing the complexities of my path.
For as long as I can recall, I knew there was something different about me and my family. My background isn’t homogenous. My nuanced identity has always been a source of relentless curiosity and assumptions—some harmless, others laced with microaggressions and intrusive questions. There was always a gap that needed bridging—an adoptee with biracial parents who spoke two languages fluently, yet never quite fitting into any single narrative. When I was younger, I often felt the need to explain myself, overcompensating with details, sometimes even apologizing for 'being complicated.' None of which was warranted. Having to do that so early and so often, no place ever truly felt safe, or like somewhere I belonged.
And for as long as I can recall in the last decade, while my peers built their lives around the usual milestones, I was left to grieve, piecing myself back together after catastrophic losses that forced me onto a path far from the one I was supposed to continue on. Losing my late husband and best friend in one decade effectively displaced me. Regardless of age, everyone else seemed to be moving forward while I stood still, reeling from loss but also surviving, trying to figure out where I was supposed to be headed. That displacement made my grief feel even more isolating and unrelatable.
Interestingly, both of these aspects—my identity and grief, were tested and prodded on my sabbatical. I learned that home isn’t always physical or external, but something internal, something connection-driven. It exists in people, experiences, and culture—far beyond shared demographics, language, or birthplace. It became a delicate dance between finally reaching this point of sureness in my identity, owning my narrative unapologetically, and keeping my heart open. Open to meaningful connections. Open to the unexpected. Open to the things that remind me of home.
Lesson 2: Anywhere can be home.
Home isn’t always a place. Sometimes, it’s people, culture, connection, and food.
For most of my life, I struggled with belonging. It always felt like I was on the outside looking in, acutely aware of my differences and the quiet, persistent sense of misplacement. Years ago, my therapist introduced me to the idea of creating a home within myself so that no matter where I went, I’d always have one. At the time, I didn’t give it much weight or fully grasp what it would mean for my future self.
But as I began to heal old wounds and my grief shifted shape, I started to understand. That home within, built on self-compassion, self-love, and grace, became my foundation. It was a place I could always return to, no matter where I was in the world or how displaced I felt.
Fast forward to 2024. I found myself wandering through foreign lands I’d only ever seen in photos, navigating places with minimal plans and one-way tickets, smiling politely through conversations where I had no idea what was being said. There was more discomfort than comfort. I had never felt so exposed—sometimes frustrated, sometimes isolated, sometimes completely out of sorts. This was the definition of being out of my comfort zone, and there was no manual for any of it. I had to figure things out as I went.
But as I became more at ease with traveling, getting lost, asking for help, and simply existing in the unknown, I realized something: home was everywhere.
It was in the way my Vietnamese friends instinctively put food on my plate before theirs, just like my mom and every Korean auntie would. It was in the way Anna, a digital nomad, and I instantly connected over coffee in Ubud, Bali, talking about everything and nothing, just like I would with my best friends back home. It was in the way I saw pieces of myself reflected in different corners of the world, despite our differences in perspectives, identities, languages, and emotional baggage.
Most of all, it was in the way I learned to trust myself. To trust my process, my timing, and my path. To embrace my nuanced identity and own my story unapologetically.
Wherever this path leads, it has already taken me to the most unexpected places. And it keeps proving what I already know: I am on my wayish to somewhere. And no matter where that is, I am always home.
Missed Lesson 1? Read about my reflections on packing light both in luggage and in life here."
