How Living Away from Home in your Twenties Changes You

Through the lens of a 28-year-old Indian immigrant

Your twenties are perhaps the most special, yet chaotic years of your life. They mark the first real step into adulthood - that blurry transition where you begin to get out of your comfort zone and face the world on your own terms. You start earning for yourself, and with that comes a bittersweet kind of independence. These aren’t the years that shape you through textbooks or lectures, but through lived experiences, the kind that challenge your identity, your resilience, and your beliefs. You begin to build your own thoughts. And somewhere in the middle of doing your laundry and making big life decisions, you find yourself consumed by questions no one else can answer for you: What’s my purpose? What do I truly want to be? Does the life I have align with the life I want?

I spent the first twenty three years of my life in New Delhi, India, at home with my parents. I had the privilege of a protected, comfortable life, no real financial worries, no pressing responsibilities. Like many Indian households, we had domestic help for everyday chores: cooking, cleaning, laundry, dishes. I never thought twice about it. Life was smooth. Familiar. Cushioned.

And then, at 24, I decided to pack my life into three suitcases and move to the UK for my master’s degree. A new country, a new culture, a new climate and everything changed overnight.

The Reality of Self-Reliance

The first few months felt like being thrown into ice-cold water. I had to do everything myself - washing dishes, taking the bins out, even unclogging the sink. I had no clue which laundry detergents worked best. Every chore felt like a burden. Every task reminded me of how easy life had been back home.

But slowly, something shifted.

I found my rhythm in the chaos. I stopped seeing these chores as chores, and instead, they became acts of independence. Small wins that built up my confidence. I remember changing a light bulb on my own for the first time. Something so trivial, yet it made me feel weirdly accomplished. Back in India, I wouldn’t have even noticed if a bulb went out - someone else would’ve fixed it. But here, everything was on me. And every little thing I figured out made me feel more capable.

Beyond the walls of my flat, the world felt equally unfamiliar. Back home, going somewhere new usually meant tagging along with a friend or being dropped off by family. Someone always knew where I was, someone always had my back. But here, every trip outside my house felt like a mini adventure wrapped with anxiety. Google Maps became my closest friend and worst enemy on days when it betrayed me. I’ve cried over bus routes, gotten lost in unfamiliar neighbourhoods, missed trains by seconds. And yet, I figured it out. Each time. Eventually, the roads that once seemed foreign started to feel familiar. The fear I once felt began to fade. And slowly, this country that once felt cold and strange, started to feel like home.

These seemingly ordinary moments - learning to cook for yourself, getting used to silence, doing your own taxes, learning how to make friends in your late twenties, they shape you in extraordinary ways. You become self-reliant. Not because you want to, but because you have to. You become more resilient. You start showing up for yourself, even on the hard days when you wish someone else would.

The Price of Independence

One of the biggest wake-up calls came with managing money and life admin. The never-ending, soul-draining kind. Visa paperwork, NHS registrations, council tax letters, proof of address documents. The kind of invisible labour that adulthood in a new country demands. There is no safety net. Your dad isn’t around to sort your paperwork. No one’s sitting you down to help with taxes, to introduce you to HMRC. It’s just you. You figure out how to survive and then, you figure out how to thrive. You research savings, investments, pensions, and confusing financial terms you wish someone had taught you in school. (Why weren’t we ever taught basic finance in India?)

Oh, and let’s not even talk about house-hunting in London. I still remember travelling across cities, hopping on trains in the cold, meeting agents, only to have viewings cancelled last minute. I didn’t know what areas were safe. I didn’t know how to read a tenancy agreement or how to avoid scams. It was overwhelming.

But the day I moved into my first apartment - one I found, secured, and decorated by myself, I felt this rush of quiet pride. Every fork, every pillow, every lamp in that flat was something I chose. I built that home from scratch. And that feeling? That’s when it hit me: This is mine. I made this life.

Growth & Becoming

Back in India, I’d never lived in an empty house. There was always someone at home - my grandmother, my parents, my sister, some noise, some company. But I still remember when one day I came back from work, opened the door to my flat, and realised something had changed.

I didn’t feel scared anymore. I didn't feel lonely.

In fact, I was looking forward to the silence. To the calmness. To my new routine: heading to the gym, cooking dinner, reading a book, winding down slowly before bed. I was okay with my own company. More than okay - I was happy with it.

That’s what living away from home does to you.
It doesn’t just teach you how to be an adult.
It teaches you how to be you.

It strips away the privileges you never realised you had. It humbles you. It makes you more empathetic towards your parents, towards immigrants, towards anyone just trying to figure life out.

You get to know yourself better. You learn what brings you peace. What drains you. What you’re good at. What you want more of in life. You expand — your mind, your heart, your perspective. And slowly, you become the person you were always meant to be.

Living away from home changes you in quiet, permanent ways.

You learn that growth doesn’t always come from grand accomplishments. Sometimes, it’s in the stillness between milestones - the quiet choices, the silent resilience, and the way you carry on without applause.

And maybe, just maybe - that’s what your twenties are really about.

Coming Full Circle

It’s been almost four years now.

Four years since I left behind everything familiar and started over. And if you asked me how I feel today, the answer is, at peace. I no longer count the number of things I do alone. I no longer feel lost at train stations. I navigate this life with a quiet confidence that once seemed impossible. What once overwhelmed me now feels second nature.

But the truth is, I now carry two homes in my heart.

India will always be where my roots are, where my childhood memories live, where my family still waits for my next visit, where every festival smells like home. But the UK - this is where I built myself. This is where I stepped into the person I am today. It’s not just where I live, it’s where I grew up, emotionally and professionally.

There’s a quiet paradox that we immigrants learn to live with. Belonging everywhere, yet never fully anywhere. Missing one place while being present in another. Caught between the life we know and the life we've built.

But maybe that’s the beauty of it. You’re no longer just shaped by where you come from but by where you choose to go, and who you choose to become.

You carry two homes in your heart. And with time, you realise you don’t have to pick one. You can belong to both, even if it’s in different ways.