by Johanna

At some point, you notice it. The things that used to excite you don’t quite do it anymore. The version of your life you left behind feels distant, and yet, sometimes, you still look back.

I’ve moved a lot. Germany, Canada, the Netherlands, Spain, Finland, Switzerland. Every move was a choice. Every move was intentional. And still, there are moments where I look back at certain chapters and think – what would it have been like if I had stayed?

Canada felt easy in a way that’s hard to explain. Life was light. I was working, traveling, present. The Netherlands had a kind of openness I haven’t found since, people who just let you be. Spain gave me a routine I loved, a structure that made me feel grounded and alive every day.

And now I’m in Switzerland. Rebuilding. Again.

Sometimes I miss those versions of my life so much it surprises me. But I also know that missing something doesn’t mean you made the wrong choice. It just means it mattered.

You are working. Growing. Making choices that are quiet and slow and not visible to anyone around you.

Right now, for me, that looks like pursuing a master’s degree while working two jobs. Saying yes to things I don’t always want to do, because I know they’re building toward something. Investing time and energy into a future that isn’t here yet, while trying not to waste the present in the process.

From the outside, it can look like nothing is happening.

But you are building a foundation. The kind that takes time. The kind that most people won’t start until their 30s or 40s – and here you are, doing it now, in your 20s, sometimes feeling like the only one who is.

That gap between where you are and where you want to be isn’t empty. It’s full of everything you’re doing when no one is watching.

This is the part that’s hard to explain.

You feel overwhelmed. But also understimulated. Stressed. But also kind of bored. Like you’re not doing enough, while also being exhausted by everything you’re already carrying.

For me it looks like this: working two jobs, studying, applying for more. And then taking ten minutes to sit in the sun and eat, and immediately feeling like I should be doing something. Like I’m falling behind. Like the fact that I still live in a shared apartment, even though I work this hard, means I’m not moving fast enough.

It makes no logical sense. But emotionally, it makes complete sense.

When you’re in between two versions of your life, nothing feels fully right yet. The old sources of energy are gone. The new ones aren’t fully here. And so you’re left in this strange state where everything feels heavy and flat at the same time.

It’s not burnout. It’s not laziness. It’s transition.

There is a specific kind of loneliness that comes with this phase.

Not the loneliness of being alone. But the loneliness of feeling like nobody around you is quite on the same page. Like your priorities are different. Like you’re thinking about things others won’t think about for another decade.

I don’t always feel like I fit in with the people around me. Not because something is wrong with them, but because I genuinely think differently. About money, about structure, about how I want to spend my time and energy. And in a new city, where building real connections takes time, that feeling gets louder.

Switzerland has been harder than I expected in that way. People here feel more closed. More distant. And after years of living in places where connection came more naturally, that contrast is something I’m still learning to navigate.

I miss the Netherlands more than I expected to. The openness there. The ease of it. Whether I’ll go back one day, I’m not sure yet. But the thought crosses my mind more than it used to.

Knowing something is temporary doesn’t make it painless.

You can tell yourself it’s a phase and still feel it fully. Still have the days where motivation disappears. Where everything feels harder than it should. Where you scroll through your phone and wonder why everyone else seems so settled.

They’re not. You just can’t see their in-between.

The fact that you feel the distance between where you are and where you’re going isn’t a sign that something is wrong. It’s a sign that you’re paying attention. That you care. That you’re actually in the middle of building something real.