The Difficult Art of Transitioning: Body, Mind & Energy

Finding Your Feet: The Real Cost of Transitioning Body, Mind & Energy

Transition sounds glamorous from the outside.

New country, new climate, new culture, new chapter.

But anyone who’s done it a few times knows the truth: transitioning is hard work on every level – body, mind, and energy.

I’ve moved across countries and continents more than once. Each time, I’ve had to rebuild life from the ground up:

• Finding accommodation that actually feels safe and liveable

• Navigating transport, routes, and timetables

• Sorting out groceries, laundry, housekeeping supplies, and basic routines

• Wrestling with work permits, residency admin, banking, taxes, and utilities

That’s before you even get to the deeper layers – culture, language, religion, social norms, environment (fauna, flora, terrain), and a totally different climate.

Every one of those asks something from you: attention, time, courage, money, and a whole lot of nervous system bandwidth.

The Hidden Costs: Not Just Money

People see the flights, deposits, and rent. What they don’t see is the energetic bill that comes due:

• Physical cost: disrupted sleep, tension in the body, immune dips, constant low-level stress, new foods, new water, new allergens, different light and temperature.

• Mental cost: decision fatigue, information overload, “where do I even start?”, planning and re-planning, learning new systems for everything.

• Emotional cost: loneliness, grief for what you left behind, identity wobble, self-doubt, and that feeling of being a stranger in every room.

• Energetic / spiritual cost: being ungrounded, disconnected, and constantly “on alert” while your system scans for safety, familiarity, and your people.

Transition demands tenacity, a “can-do” attitude, and more perseverance than most people realise. You don’t just need optimism; you need grit.

Progress Isn’t a Straight Line Up

We like to imagine life as a neat upward curve: new place → new life → better version of me.

In reality, it’s more like a long, uneven path that sometimes doubles back on itself.

You’ll have days where you think, Yes, this is why I moved.

Then there are days where you’re exhausted from trying to figure out how to buy a bus card, register a sim card, or get a plumber to actually show up.

From my experience, it takes:

• Around 9 months just to find your feet – to know where things are, who you can call, and how to get the basics done without thinking too hard.

• Around 18 months to really find your groove – your routines, your favourite spots, your trusted people, your “tribe”.

If you’re in the messy middle, nothing has gone wrong. You’re just in the part no one romanticises on Instagram.

The Chameleon Principle: Flexibility or Friction

Transitioning well asks you to become a bit of a chameleon – not by abandoning who you are, but by being flexible enough to adapt without losing your core.

You’re constantly tuning into questions like:

• How do people here do things?

• What’s considered respectful?

• What’s the rhythm of this place – slow, fast, loud, private?

• Where can I soften, and where do I need to hold my own?

One of the mindsets I’ve adopted over time is what I jokingly call

FIFO: fit in or fuck off.

Not in a people-pleasing way, and not in a self-abandoning way – but in the sense of:

Either I learn how to work with this environment and culture, or I accept that it’s not for me and make a different choice.

Staying stuck in limbo, complaining without adjusting or deciding, will drain you faster than any relocation cost.

Body, Mind & Energy in Transition

To navigate big transitions without burning out, I’ve learned to pay attention to all three layers:

• Body: Am I sleeping enough? What is my nervous system doing? Can I build small routines – movement, hydration, decent food – even when everything feels temporary?

• Mind: What stories am I telling myself? Is this really “a disaster”, or just a steep learning curve? Where can I simplify decisions today?

• Energy / Spirit: Where can I ground? Is it nature, the sea, a tree, a daily walk? What helps me feel like me again – journaling, breathwork, quiet time, rituals?

Tiny anchors matter.

They stop you from feeling like you’re blowing in the wind with no roots.

Giving Everything a Try – As an Opportunity

Transition asks you to treat life as an experiment.

New city? Try the local food.

New language? Learn the basics.

New customs? Observe, respect, and do your best to work with them.

Every small action – asking for help, trying a different route, saying yes to coffee with a stranger, testing a new gym or café – is a way of saying:

I’m here.

I’m willing.

I’m building something new.

Not every attempt will work.

Some places, people, or jobs simply won’t be right.

That’s not failure; that’s data.

When You’re In It: You’re Not Weak, You’re Rebuilding

If you’re in the thick of a move right now and wondering why you’re so tired, emotional, or scattered, remember:

• You’ve dismantled an entire life and you’re building a new one from scratch.

• Your body, mind, and energy are working overtime, even on the days when it looks like “not much happened”.

• It’s normal for it to feel like a long walk forward, not a quick climb to success.

You’re not behind.

You’re recalibrating.