Dear EKC: Why Do I Feel Anxious About Seeing People From My Past?

Dear EKC, 

My family moved away from the place I grew up about two years ago and I thought going back would be exciting. Instead, I’m kind of dreading it. There are people there I used to be really close to and places that still give me that feeling of “home” when I think about them. I miss them sometimes but when I think about actually going back, seeing them again, it gives me this anxious feeling in my stomach and I just want to cancel the whole thing. 

I don’t know how it’ll be when I’m back. I’m afraid that the people I knew will expect me to be the same person I was when I lived there but I feel like I’ve changed so much. It all feels like too much to explain. Everything’s different now: where I live, what I’m doing, my friends, what I want for the future. I’m a totally different person. What if I go back and realize I don’t really belong there anymore? What if I lose those places and people I still think of as “home?” 

Sometimes I wonder if I’m avoiding catching up with those friends because I miss my old life too much and I’m scared of what seeing them will bring up. Like—what if it DOES still feel like “home,” and then my new home doesn’t feel like home anymore. Does that make sense? Other times I wonder if I’m avoiding them because I don’t know how to be around people who only knew the old version of me. And I know it’s a self-perpetuating cycle: if I don’t talk to them regularly, they can’t get to know who I am now, and then I feel more and more anxious as time goes on. 

The trip’s coming up; the tickets are booked. How do I reconcile these two versions of me? How do I feel comfortable around friends, and how can I stop feeling guilty for not being sure if I’ll be comfortable? It feels too complicated. 

—Different Now From Then

Dear Different, 

What you’re describing is so common for expat teens and TCKs and adults, too. I’m so glad you wrote in. Going back to a place you used to call home can bring up such a mix of emotions: anxiety, nostalgia, grief, excitement, concern, especially when you’re seeing people who knew you during a very different part of your life. 

I’d start by thinking about whether there are things that were left unresolved before you relocated. It might have been a friendship that ended awkwardly or something you never got to say, or feelings you didn’t have time to process before you left. In psychological terms, moving away can create physical distance without creating emotional resolution. Sometimes those feelings stay quiet until you’re back in the place or around the people connected to them. 

There’s also the question of who you are now. Who we are, in the context of where we are and who we’re with, develops through experience. This is particularly relevant for TCKs. You mentioned that you feel like you were a different version of yourself in your old home than you are now and that’s very valid. It also doesn’t make either version less real. Your experiences, relationships, culture, and surroundings all shape how different parts of you show up. 

It makes sense that it can be overwhelming to think about explaining everything to the people from your past. They remember you from a particular point in your life, while you’ve had experiences since then that they weren’t there for. But you don’t actually have to give them a full explanation of who you’ve become. They can get to know you as you are now, over time. 

This is also where self-efficacy can help. Self-efficacy is your sense that you can handle situations and cope with what happens. Instead of focusing only on whether someone will understand the person you’ve become, it can help to remind yourself that you can handle an awkward conversion or someone making an assumption about you that isn’t true anymore. 

That does lead to another important piece here: grief. Seeing people from your past can bring up grief around previous relationships with other people, but also around your previous relationship with yourself. You’re right: being there very well might feel like home again, and that in itself could bring up some feelings of grief. You can feel that grief while still being happy with your life now. Missing something and allowing yourself to lean into an old life for a little bit doesn’t mean you automatically want it back. You can feel at home in more than one place. 

In fact, that can be a really joyful experience. You can have a bit of a vacation in your old life: see your friends and the places you love, eat your favorite foods, and never have to use Google Maps to know where you’re going—and then come home again to another place you love and sleep in your own bed again. You can hold both and enjoy both places fully while you’re there. This might even help you start integrating your old friends more comfortably into your new life, too: reestablishing those connections and bringing them to your new home. 

Change can be hard and weird. I’d like to take some of the pressure off of the idea that you need to “accept” that you’ve changed. You can acknowledge that you’re different while still having feelings about it. You might feel proud, sad, relieved, or nostalgic, and sometimes everything at once. Try to make space for the different facets of your identity, rather than deciding which version is the “real” you. Someone once told me to think of identity like the different angles of a diamond: depending on where you are and who you’re with, you see a different facet. The person you were in your old home is still a part of you, alongside the person you became after leaving and the person you’re becoming now. 

Going back doesn’t have to be a test of whether you “still belong.” If seeing everyone feels overwhelming, start with one person you trust. Meet somewhere neutral and give yourself a time limit if you need to (bonus points if it’s flexible enough that you can stay longer if you’re having a good time!). You get to choose what feels manageable and you don’t have to see everyone on this trip if you’re not ready to see someone. 

It can feel strange to revisit a place you left because the place itself and people might be familiar but your relationship to them has changed. Even if it brings up anxiety and grief, it can also remind you of how many experiences you’ve had and how you’ve grown since you left. You’re arriving as yourself, who you are now, carrying all those earlier versions of you with you, too. 

Warmly, 

Kate Berger

EKC Therapist