Why Haven’t I Gone Home?

A friend was reading my first article when she suddenly froze mid-sentence and said,

“Wait… why does going back to Italy feel like a defeat to you?”

And in that moment, it dawned on me:
Was that how I really felt?

That single thought sent me down a rabbit hole of questions.

Why haven’t I felt the urgency to return?
or most importantly…now that I’m thinking about..
Why I am emotionally allergic to one-way flights back to Italy?


——-

The “Weird Circle” Theory

So, I started thinking.
And when I think, I tend to overanalyze.
And when I overanalyze, I start seeing patterns.

Here’s one: I have a weird obsession with circular treks.

Whenever I go for a hike, I always pick trails that form a loop. I can’t stand the ones where you walk straight to a viewpoint and then have to turn around and go back the same way.

It feels… incomplete.

Like I’ve only done half the journey. The circle, for me, is the experience. I don’t want to just reach a point and turn back—I want to finish the full loop.

And then it hit me—maybe this is why I haven’t gone home yet. I’m still walking my circle, still experiencing, still figuring things out. I haven’t finished my journey, and I don’t want to return before I do.

it could be an option…
Well, the overthinking didn’t stop there.

So I reflected more and realized something else—it’s deeply rooted in my Italian culture: family.

Family and the Weight of ‘Home’ in Italian Culture

If there’s one thing that defines Italian culture, it’s family. It’s not just an important part of life—it is life. Home isn’t just a place—it’s a duty, an unspoken responsibility that ties you to the people who raised you.

In Italy, no matter how far you go, there’s always an expectation that you’ll come back. To Sunday lunches. To the same small streets. To the people who have known you forever. To your family.

For me, home is exactly that—a place I will eventually return to because I will need to take care of my family. Not because I long for it, not because I miss it, but because one day, it will be my turn.

And maybe that’s the real reason I haven’t gone back yet.

Because right now, I’m not ready to step into that role.

The truth? My family doesn’t need me to take care of them—at least, not yet. But I know that day will come. And maybe deep down, I fear that once I step into that role, I won’t be able to step back out.

Am I afraid of losing my freedom? Maybe.

Am I afraid of getting stuck in a life I didn’t choose? Probably.

Am I secretly hoping someone will take care of me first? Absolutely.

——

So… What Is Home for me?

After all this thinking… what is home for me?

Okay, maybe I’ve figured it out—for now.

Home, for me, has never been a single, fixed place. It moves with me. It’s fluid, adapting to wherever I am, shaped by the experiences I create rather than a specific location.

Some people assume that not missing home means feeling lost, as if a lack of longing equals a lack of connection. But I see it differently. I don’t feel lost. If anything, I feel most at home in my own movement, in my ability to embrace change without fear.

Maybe home isn’t a place to return to…

Maybe it’s simply the feeling of being fully present, wherever I am. In that sense, I’ve never really left home—because I’ve always carried it with me.

And when the time does come to go back—because one day, it will—I know I won’t be returning in the way people expect.

Maybe I’ll still see it as just another stop on my journey.

Or maybe, by then, I’ll feel differently. Maybe with time, I’ll realize that home has always been waiting for me in ways I never expected.

Let’s see..

————

Veronica,
currently in Koh Samui,
“where the ocean is calling and I’m pretending not to hear it (for now).”