Living in a new country is a beautiful kind of chaos. Everything is unfamiliar. New language, new food, new systems, new weather, new “normals.” What no one told me is that acclimating to all of it doesn’t just take time—it takes a toll. And now I’m realising that yes, I may have successfully trumped some hurdles (kudos to me), but you know what they say; “new level, new devil.” And hear me when I tell you that this devil has now determined to morph into a psychosomatic one. Notwithstanding the possibility of re-encountering similar challenges, we’ve transitioned—geographically, economically, psychologically & now we’re making our descent toward the tarmac of the psychosomatic: sticky & tricky.

Since I arrived in China, I’ve been sick almost every month. ALARMING! Not metaphorically sick. Not “I just need tea & a nap” sick. I mean fevered, wheezing, nose like a leaky tap, phlegm the colour of that green-eyed monster lurking in your nostril (graphic – DEAL WITH IT lol), the hospital-on-speed-dial kinda sick. It’s like my body is having a delayed culture shock of its own, without my permission, reacting to new air, new bugs, new stress, & maybe even new emotions I haven’t fully let myself unpack. With life’s looming goals, there seems to be a constant time constraint placed on many of the most important aspects of the full human experience—leaving so many of these issues unaddressed. It’s not all fair weather, all the time. And we gotta soldier on sometimes, because even me & so many other persons who regard themselves as positive, strong-minded individuals can & will fall prey to an ailing body at some point or another. Still, I’ve been pushing through. Still showing up for plans, for routines, for the life I told myself I had to “keep up” with. Still pretending I’m fine when all I really want is rest & maybe a hug from my mommy.

But the question’s been knocking louder lately: Should I have shown up for that “thing” at all? I know that integrating into this new culture & making friends are imperative at this point, but was it really necessary to have gone out last night?

When “adapting” starts to feel like performing there’s this pressure that ever so slowly ensues like black mold growing in the top corner of your bathroom hovering above the shower; just out of your reach. YUCK! When you move abroad there is this unspoken expectation to make it look like you’re CONSTANTLY thriving. Photos, stories, updates… it all has to look like you made the right choice. Like you’re strong. Like you’re “living the dream.” But this is by far the biggest misconception. Anything new comes with pivoting, adjusting, familiarising, failing sometimes, some fear & anxiety, but I can tell you with 100% certainty that those who have made the move to live & work abroad, especially to a country like China, where EVERYTHING, & I mean everything is so vastly different, are indeed some of the most bad ass people I know & have met. I have a newfound respect for such an individual. The mental gymnastics you perform daily—& the emotional intelligence you now have to actively embody more than ever—are beyond exasperating.

But the truth is, behind every pretty picture, there are the quiet mornings when you can’t get out of bed. The pharmacies you have to navigate with a translation app & a pounding headache & tender body. The nights when the only English you hear is your own voice asking, “Why am I still not okay?” No one claps for the days you cancel everything. No one posts the part where you stayed home with a hot water bottle & cried in your hoodie. But that’s real too. I’ve been told on so many occasions that I have this knack to make tough things look easy. Well that’s because I know what to do to pull myself out from the murky greys. I’ve taught myself about self-talk & affective control. I don’t only support my clients through their storms, I adopt these same psychological principles & apply them myself & by virtue of their frequency maybe even more times than I’m willing to acknowledge here. LOL. You either sink or swim baby! BUT HOW?! … with a great white chomping on your tail LOL.

I have learnt the hard way that showing up isn’t always a winning formula. I used to believe that showing up even at my lowest was a kind of victory. That “strong” meant showing your face no matter how drained you felt inside. But again those moments only proved ever-more scarring, as result of what putting myself through the wringer has caused. Those indelible wounds creep up on you when you least expect them to & they take such a long while to properly heal. BURNOUT started slinking in like a sly fox. And you may not know this but burnout originates in your psyche long before you experience somatic symptoms. It starts by whispering things like “I just need to push a little more,” “rest is for people who aren’t strong enough.” Unmet needs causes our psyche to splinter & we feel a certain type of disconnect to ourselves & our passions. When looking at the self-determination theory, we all need 3 vital things; autonomy (control over our lives), competence (feeling effective) & connection (belonging & support). Now burnout thrives when we feel powerless (no autonomy), inadequate (not good enough) & isolated (no real support system). Next, your mind & body start to fall out. Here’s where it really gets wild—you don’t just suffer in your head, the psychosomatic symptoms show up physically: chronic fatigue, insomnia, headaches, stomach issues, frequent colds or illnesses (sound familiar?) Your body is your psyche’s diary—& burnout is when the pages start screaming. The inner critic gets louder as burnout deepens, the psyche loses its grounding, & self-compassion shrivels. You start hearing: “Why can’t you handle this?”, “Everyone else seems fine.”, “You’re being dramatic.” This toxic internal dialogue feeds the burnout & pushes recovery even further away.

So, what can we do? RECLAIM THE PSYCHE; THE EMOTIONAL & MENTAL HEART OF WHO WE ARE. And here’s how. Let’s learn together. I’m learning that there’s a different kind of strength. The strength to say no. To say “not today.” To say “I need to rest,” & that doesn’t make me weak, it makes me wise.” READ THAT AGAIN!

For too long I have been wearing burnout as a badge of honor & secretly hoping that someone would validate all my efforts by recognising my exhaustion & by patting me on the back with a gentle almost patronising: “There, there” & at the same time honor my martyr complex. Somewhere along the way, we’ve confused dedication with self-sacrifice. And no one claps louder for it than the people who benefit from our silence. To be clear, a person operating within a martyr complex often unnecessarily sacrifices their own needs & derives a sense of identity or moral superiority from suffering. Well, stick a fork in me, I’m done. Done being my own emotional masochist.

2025 is the year of culling. If I don’t need it, if it is no longer serving me, if it makes me feel uneasy, if I have to expend too much energy on considering its benefit in my life, if it makes me second guess myself, if I don’t feel that I’m loving myself by doing said thing … IT HAS TO GO!! And some things have fallen off. Now sit down for what I’m about to say…(I’m prefacing with this because many of you who are devout Candice Malander / Can Skylark follows, know how vitally essential this part of my life is)… but I QUIT THE GYM! Cue the gasp! Now before you flood my comment section, allow me to explain. I have been an avid, consistent gym-nut for over 20 years so I can understand how surprising that news could be for you. It’s so funny how so many of you within my inner-circle had the same shocked, flabbergasted, jaw-dropping expression upon hearing that. Hahaha! I’ll clarify though. I tossed going to the public gym—I could never, neeeeeeever quit on health & fitness. It’s too deep of an ingrained healthy obsession that I have whetted over the years. It has literally become an integral part of my self-altered DNA.

Anyway, I cut going to the public gym (always loathed it by the way), because the stress I was putting body under; rushing home from work (tired), talking myself into my active wear, walking to the gym, getting there & then dealing with the fact that everyone else is hogging the equipment that I set out to use according to my program & then having to rework my entire workout, compounded with the gnawing sound of the proverbial ticking clock growing louder by the second in the background, asking myself whether I’d get enough sleep if I arrived home after 9pm & thereafter start my meal prepping for the next day, while cooking a healthy, wholesome dinner nutritionally dense enough to fall within my calorie budget for the day, was exterminating me. (breathe) IT WAS A MESS! Now mind you, I had made a pact with myself upon arrival that I would resume my activities from back home as soon as possible so as to shield myself from the onrush of my new environment. I needed familiarity so that the changes could feel incrementally tolerable. But nothing changes unless we change. And change was going to have its way, whether I wanted it or not. It is the fulcrum of growth & growth was what I know I needed most in my life at this juncture.

I cut out this one thing & I can promise you, this one thing that ought to serve as a healthy body & immune building system was rendering the opposite result. I can almost with every fiber of my being, say that that was behind my constant illness along with everything else concomitant with acculturation. I ABORTED THAT MISSION UNAPOLOGETICALLY! The simmering stress of this positive activity which if done correctly instantiates physical & mental fortitude & resilience, now speedily became one of the pronounced crippling factors in my day-to-day life.

So, I pivoted. I bought equipment & now, I’m part of the 5:30am club again. I start off my day with my morning devotion & straight after, I get into my home-gym session. It’s been one of my best moves yet & also one of the best ways to kick the day into high gear. It’s actually always been the best time for me to workout. My mind is clear & positioned to win the day & at the end of every working day I can leisurely go about the rest of it. Later on I can comfortably curl up in my bed with a great read or hit my books & eventually reset with some mindfulness & meditation without the threat of that rapidly consuming sink-hole devouring my life. I also noticed that my jaw was less clinched, a sign that some tension trapped inside of me was starting to ease. The former way of living is undoubtedly unsustainable & it was costing me more than I’d bargained for. I didn’t realize how much I’d been betraying my body. Every time I’d whisper “I’m okay” when I wasn’t I was teaching myself that rest was a guilty pleasure or a luxury I hadn’t earned. But I’m not a robot. I’m not invincible & I’m not replaceable in the ways I once thought. What’s replaceable? A social get-together, a gym session or whatever! What’s not? My health. My sanity. My peace.

So, on my sofa today while lazing about (UNHEARD OF FOR ME), & chugging down a raw coconut decaf latte, I learnt that there is a quiet courage in resting, that adapting doesn’t always look like conquering. Sometimes it looks like being gentle with myself. Sometimes it looks like skipping the adventure to protect my peace. Sometimes it looks like crying in my room & still believing that I belong here. So, should I have shown up when I was sick, tired, & unraveling? No. I should have stayed home. Sipped tea. Called someone who loves me. And reminded myself that “It’s okay to slow down.” Even here. Even now. Even as a foreigner still finding her way.

To Anyone Else Who’s Tired:

It’s okay to rest.
It’s okay to disappoint people who expect you to destroy yourself to meet their expectations.
It’s okay to be soft with yourself.

You deserve the same care you so freely give.