A Reflection on Saying Goodbye to the UK

What Four Years Taught Me About Living for Someone Else

Have you ever made a life decision out of duty—and then realised it wasn’t quite the right thing to do?

It’s been four years since I came back ‘home’ to the UK—my longest stay here since 2011. Between 2011, when I left for the first time, and 2020, I was always in motion: a year here, a few months there. The UK always acted as a kind of layover for me; a launchpad, never a destination. But in 2020, during lockdown, that changed.

The move back was mainly spurred on by a deep feeling of familial duty that I couldn't quite shake. At the same time, Chie and I both wanted to see if we could settle in the UK. We'd tried Tokyo, and found great success with our coffee shop, but towards the end there was a nagging feeling that possibly we'd enjoy living in the UK together.

However, whilst these last few years in London have been a fantastic opportunity for growth, and we appreciate the time we had to spend with family, we haven't quite been able to feel settled for one reason or another.

Ultimately, the familial duty that brought us here led me to realise something: if you live your life for someone else, then it's likely that you'll end up unhappy and, somewhat ironically, so might they. It turns out you can end up doing everything you think you should because you just want to help but some people simply refuse that help. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t care for others of course, but I learnt that doing what you think other people need—even with love—can eventually create tension and distance, not the closeness you wanted.

One thing that I have got from the last four years however is the profound impression left on me by going through this realisation. I've discovered the power of pausing and reflecting—and perhaps the best time to do that is when the sands of life shift.

We spent our four years living on a narrowboat in London on Regent's Canal. We were incredibly fortunate to have this experience as it allowed us to live in the centre of London very cheaply with the whole city on our doorstep. Summers were glorious and we could both cycle or walk to work. This allowed us to avoid the dreaded packed underground at all costs which was a lifesaver. We were also able to see more of beautiful Suffolk, the county I grew up in, with fresh new eyes. I met wonderful people and will miss them dearly. But gradually we learned that the UK is well on its way down a path of becoming a difficult country to have a comfortable life in. If you’ve ever lived somewhere that just didn’t work for you anymore, you’ll probably understand.

I don't want to go into details here because this post will get messy quickly, but the cost of Chie's visa plus the cost of renting anywhere in the city was a big part of the reason that we didn't have any viable option to leave the boat and live elsewhere in London. Unless of course we suddenly mustered up a newfound fondness of living in a shoebox. At the same time, we didn't feel a connection with any other cities in the UK and starting over again in a new city where we didn't have community just didn't seem the right thing to do.

Kyoto, on the other hand, has long felt like home for us. We have a large group of friends there, people starting businesses, working for themselves, and living in a way that feels sustainable. The quality of life is just so much higher in Japan than it is in the UK.

And so, after four years of trying to make it work here, we’re choosing a different path. One that feels more aligned with how we want to live—and who we want to be. That choice isn’t just about location either. It’s about recognising when something no longer fits, and giving yourself permission to move on.

Which brings me to something that’s been helping me make sense of all of this: reflection.

Reflecting on a big move

Through this process I've learnt that it can be incredibly rewarding to reflect when leaving a city, job, or phase of life behind. But all too often life gets in the way right? When it comes to a big move, our to-do lists can feel never-ending. This can lead us to overlook this powerful step. A reflection can help us carry meaning into our next chapter, instead of rushing headlong into what lies ahead.

When it comes to practical reflection, one powerful approach is place-based. Two questions I asked myself recently are:

“What did this place teach me?”

and

“When in my new home, what does current me want future me to remember?”

These questions help bring things into focus—especially in a year or two, when nostalgia kicks in and you start wondering, “Was it really that bad?” We all have a habit of looking back and remembering only the good bits. But sometimes the past wasn’t better; it was just familiar. Preparing for that wave of doubt in advance can keep you grounded in the decisions you’ve made with intention.

But why stop at reflections that are based solely on place? In a similar practice, my good friend Cody Ellingham does exit interviews at the end of the year. I find this is such a strong way to say goodbye to the year that has been and to welcome in the new year with intention. Asking what did, and what didn't go so well. What am I leaving behind and what do I want to carry forward with me?

And instead of marking our lives mainly by the things we've achieved, how about instead looking back at what mattered the most? Reflecting on the things that resonated and aiming to give more energy to that?

What mattered to me in the UK? The people, and gift giving for sure. My goal is to keep both of those things front of mind going forward.

The arrival of spring is also a good time to reflect on your last chapter, however small it may have felt. Whether it was the year that has just passed or even just the winter. Here are three questions to help get you started:

• In the chapter that has just finished, what am I happy to have left behind?
• What am I most excited for in the coming months?
• What mattered most to me, that I'd like to take with me into the future?

As we pack our bags for Kyoto, I’ll carry these questions with me. Like the last cup of coffee on the boat before we left London. A pause, before the next chapter turns.

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Thank you for reading. If any part of this resonated with you, whether it’s something you’ve left behind or a truth you’ve also learned, please leave a comment. Or feel free to send me your own reflection. I read every one.

SJF 🍃