A couple of days before flying to Toronto to see my best friend, I decided to rent a car. The idea of driving in an unfamiliar city made me nervous, but after relying on Ubers during my 2023 visit (before my friend’s son was born), I figured a rental car could save both money and time.

As I drove around Toronto each day, I felt myself blending in. At first, I was just adapting to traffic patterns. Soon enough, I got comfortable running “side missions.” I went to the movies (I saw Weapons, in case you’re wondering). My girlfriend and I took walks around Humber Park. We wandered into stores to buy an umbrella, medicine, or food to cook at my friend’s place. Before I knew it, I felt at ease, almost like a local. When it was finally time to get an Uber to the airport, all I could think was, I don’t want to leave.

It wasn’t just because I already missed my friend and his family—though I did. I’ve known him since I was four years old. His wife got along so well with my girlfriend. On our last night, his son gave me a big hug before going to bed. But I didn’t want to leave because I had grown comfortable there. I didn’t just feel at home in Toronto—I felt at home in North America. I didn’t feel like I was visiting. I felt like I was back. So when I stepped off the plane in China, a wave of anxiety hit me.

My friends are convinced I’ll never move back to the US. When I finally arrived at my apartment in Chengdu, I messaged my aunt. Her reply was, “Welcome home!” And something about that triggered me. After five years and counting, Chengdu is technically home. But it doesn’t feel like it. I’ve been living abroad, but this summer—more than the past two—reminded me how much I miss the life I had before.

When friends and family back home ask about the practical differences between China and the US, I usually run through a checklist. I take the subway because I’m afraid to drive here—it feels too chaotic. I use my phone to pay for everything. I don’t follow football as much because it’s on at 1 a.m.

But the truth is, the real differences aren’t practical. They’re emotional. My anxiety spikes the moment I leave my apartment. I struggle with large crowds. I feel unmotivated and unchallenged at work. I don’t have casual conversations with strangers, or even a simple “hey” when I walk into a store. I’ve adapted to life here, but I don’t feel like myself.

China doesn’t feel like “home.” At the same time, North America isn’t automatically “home” just because I was born there. I’m learning that home isn’t a physical place—it’s a lifestyle. It’s the people around me. I felt at home in Canada, the same way I did in Atlanta, the same way I did in Ocean Springs, Mississippi (a place I visited for the first time this summer). There was something about traffic jams, late-night workouts in a 24/7 gym, shopping at Walmart, cooking on a four-eye stove, working on this blog, streaming Netflix without a VPN, catching up with friends—these everyday things felt like home.

Coming back to China knocked all that energy out of me. My mood plummeted instantly. I put on a good face, but eventually I broke down. I struggled to explain it to my girlfriend, but I remember saying I wished I could be like other expats who seem to embrace life here. I told a friend about it, and she texted me a line that summed it up perfectly: “I was anxious for reasons I couldn’t understand.”

It isn’t just me. Granted, it’s not every expat, but I’m not the only one. My friend described it as a reset: just when we’ve grown comfortable being back home, we throw ourselves back into our lives abroad.

My girlfriend once asked if I feel reverse culture shock when I return to the US. Honestly, I don’t. I feel it when I come back to China. To be clear, Chengdu has been a good place to live. I’m grateful for my time here. In some ways, it even reminds me of Atlanta. And yet, it doesn’t feel like “home.” That sense of belonging just isn’t there.

I don’t know what my future looks like, or where it happens. Maybe I’ll always have one foot in Chengdu and the other in Atlanta. Or maybe these summer trips are reminders of the life I truly want to return to and settle into.