New Moon Coaching for Expat Women

For many expats, summer is the time to return to our home country for a visit. We spend time with family, reconnect with friends, and often handle practical affairs if we still hold property or professional ties there. But it is also an inevitable occasion for comparison with our host country.

When I first moved to the States, every single new thing was a source of wonder and comparison with Italy. From the breakfast biscuits I couldn’t find anywhere to the sheer size of family-sized packaging, to the relationship with institutions and the healthcare system—everything was filtered through what I already knew and considered “normal.” Some things were better in Italy, others in Colorado.

This ongoing relationship of comparison shifts continuously throughout an expat’s life. It depends on the motivation that brought us to our host country in the first place, how integrated we feel in our new environment, and what we feel we left behind in our homeland.

Comparing two countries with vastly different histories, cultures, and traditions can feel like comparing apples to artichokes. Still, comparing and contrasting are natural tools we use to navigate the world, constantly placing the new alongside the known to expand our understanding and lived experience. By becoming aware of the underlying motivations and emotions behind these comparisons, we can experience our relationship with both countries in a healthier, more constructive way.

The following are just a few general categories in which we often place our two countries. While by no means exhaustive, they offer a starting point for reflecting on how we view them—and where we fit within both.

1. The Drawer Labelled “The Perfection”

For many, the home country gets tucked away in a mental drawer of flawless memories. In this space, the coffee was always better, the buildings more beautiful, the friendships were deeper, and the sunsets were warmer. When the new culture feels exhausting or bureaucratic, it is incredibly comforting to pull open this drawer and seek refuge in what was.

The challenge? We are often comparing a highly curated, nostalgic highlight reel of our past with the messy, unfiltered, day-to-day reality of our current life. When we idealize where we came from, the host country never stands a chance. Every minor frustration in the present becomes proof that the move was a compromise, making it incredibly difficult to drop anchor where we actually are.

2. The Wish for “Evolution”

On the flip side, you might look back and feel a sense of relief mixed with a lingering wish that things were different. Perhaps your adoptive country offers a stronger educational system, more reliable healthcare, a civic politeness that makes daily life smoother, or an easy access to incredibly beautiful trails. You find yourself thinking, “I just wish my home country could figure this out. Why can’t it evolve?”

This perspective shows an appreciation for your new environment, but the constant comparing can still keep you suspended between two worlds. It can lead to a subtle, ongoing frustration—a feeling of being a perpetual critic of both the place that raised you and the place that houses you now.

3. The “Bad Taste” of Leftover Resentment

Sometimes, the departure wasn’t entirely a joyful choice, but a necessary pivot. If your home country felt like a place of closed doors—where the job market was stagnant, housing was unattainable, or your efforts weren’t rewarded—leaving can leave a bitter taste.

When a homeland feels like it didn’t give you the opportunities you deserved, it’s easy to use the new country as a shield to prove you were right to leave. But carrying that unresolved resentment means your identity is still being defined by what failed you, rather than what you are actively building today.

Finding the Healthy Center

Moving toward a healthier relationship with your life path doesn’t mean you have to stop missing your original culture or become a cheerleader for your new one. It means moving away from the extremes of total idealization or total rejection.

A grounded, objective relationship with your history looks like holding space for complexity:

• Allowing room for “Both/And”: You can love the spontaneous warmth of your original culture and deeply appreciate the structural stability of your new one. One does not have to cancel out the other.
• Separating the place from the memory: Recognizing that the home country you miss is often a specific time in your life, populated by specific people, rather than a static geographical paradise that is frozen in time waiting for your return.
• Grieving the loss without rejecting the present: It is entirely natural to look forward to visits and feel a pang of longing. Acknowledging that ache honestly, without letting it turn into a rejection of your current daily life, is what allows you to live fully in the present.

Our relationship with our homeland is rarely a straight line. By gently opening those mental drawers, looking at what we’ve stored inside, and dusting off the expectations, we give ourselves permission to stop comparing and start living. Your life path isn’t split into two fractured halves; it is a single, continuous journey of expansion.

How has your relationship with your origin country shifted since you moved? Drop a comment below or share your story—let’s build a space where we can talk openly about the spaces in between.