The Story of Another (Ex)Immigrant
From Toronto to Istanbul
2025 started in Toronto, Canada, and it will end in Istanbul, Türkiye. Life is full of ups and downs, changes in direction, and learning to surf the waves in the arms of the unknown.
This may sound familiar, but here is what I know for sure: I know nothing. And maybe that is the most honest place to begin. My story is not unique, only unique to me. I will not be the first or the last to live it. But I am living it for the first time, as it is. And that changes everything.
The Beginning
My immigration story began in 2020, during the global pandemic. Ironically, I had COVID-19 at the time. (It’s funny how I have not written the word COVID-19 in a sentence for a long while.) After a long waiting period filled with visa paperwork, IELTS preparation, emotional goodbyes, and closing up the house in my home country, I finally completed my part of the process in 2022 and moved to a beautiful country called Canada.
What I didn’t realize at the time was this:
I had not just crossed a border.
I had crossed into a completely new version of myself.
The Invisible Luggage
When you leave your homeland, you carry more than a suitcase. I carried the weight of hope, the ache of uncertainty, and a quiet, persistent belief that somewhere on the other side of fear, possibility was waiting. I did not know then how deeply I would be tested, or how profoundly I would be changed. Immigration is often spoken of in terms of paperwork, policies, and passports. But behind the logistics is a very real, very raw human story, one marked by silence, doubt, and the invisible labor of adaptation.
I remember sitting in many places where the language moved faster than my thoughts. Every mispronounced word felt like a spotlight. Every cultural misstep reminded me I was not from here, even though I have always believed that borders are built from fear and ego, not truth. There were moments I felt like a guest in my own skin.
I did not have issues with the country itself. But every new encounter became a new story, and every story asked me to grow. Resilience does not arrive with fanfare. It builds quietly, like muscle. Each day asks you to lift just a little more than yesterday.
Over time, I began to realize something important. Being between cultures was not a weakness. It was a kind of superpower. I could see with double vision, through the lens of where I came from and the lens of where I was going. This duality helped me navigate not just new systems, but new parts of myself.
Resilience, I learned, is not about never falling. It is about rising again and again, even when no one is watching. It is about reminding yourself that this life was your decision. That even on the darkest, rainiest, snowiest days (and yes, there were many), the morning sun still rose. Each day brought a new hope. A new part of the game. There were the days that I realized self-motivation and self talks were kind of my only friends.
Empowerment in Small Moments
Empowerment did not come all at once. It came in small, defiant victories. Moments that may seem ordinary to others but meant everything to me.
The first time I had to visit the hospital at 3 AM and wait three hours in emergency after cutting my finger with a sharp knife.
The first time I had to open a bank account in a different country and had to listen everything carefully all my own.
The first time I navigated public transportation in a city I did not know, relying only on instinct and a few new words.
The first time I handled a misunderstanding without a translator, trusting my own voice to stand up for myself.
The first time I advocated for myself professionally, not just asking but expecting to be heard.
The first time I confidently joined a job interview with native English speakers.
The first time I filled out an official document without help and realized independence is not about perfection, but progress.
The first time I passed my driver’s license exam in a new country.
The first time I completed government paperwork on my own.
The first time I celebrated my birthday and a holiday from home by myself, with my own traditions and on my own terms.
The first time I rented a house and arranged movers by myself.
The first time I introduced myself without shrinking.
Then came the deeper shifts.
The moment I stopped apologizing for my accent.
The moment I gave myself permission to take up space, to speak louder, to belong. (Sometimes I still count to three before I speak.)
The moment I realized I did not need to assimilate to be accepted. Being different is not a defect. It is a strength.
The moment I said yes to an invitation, even when I was afraid I would not fit in.
The day I realized I bring value because of my story, not in spite of it.
The day I mentored someone newer than me and saw how far I had come through their eyes.
The day I looked back and saw not only struggle, but evidence of transformation.
The day I decided to move back to Türkiye and had to say goodbye to dreams I once believed belonged to me forever.
These moments were not grand.
But they were mine.
And to me, they were monumental. They became the foundation of a life I could finally call my own.
From Surviving to Becoming
Today, I use my voice not only for myself but for others who are still searching for theirs. Because empowerment is not just about rising. It is also about reaching back with an open hand. Whether I am writing, mentoring, or simply listening, I carry the quiet wisdom of those early days. The days when I thought I was only surviving, but was in fact, becoming.
If You Are in the Middle of Your Journey;
If you are between places, between identities, between who you were and who you are becoming, I want you to know this.
Your home, your roots, your culture, they are valid. Do not feel less. Do not feel hopeless. Take your time. You are not late. Growth does not follow a visa deadline. You do not need all the answers to take the next step. Clarity comes through motion. Feeling out of place does not mean you are out of place. You are expanding.
Your accent is not a flaw. It is a map of where you have been and the courage it took to arrive. (But yes, make the effort to improve the language. Not to fit in, but to help others understand you better and to build meaningful communication.)
It is okay to grieve what you left behind, even while building something better.
You do not have to shrink to belong. You can take up space and still be welcomed.
Rest is not weakness. It is recovery.
Speak, even if your voice shakes. That is how confidence is born.
Keep a record of your wins. Especially the ones that seem small. They are not small. I bought a postcard for myself and I was tooking notes in that one to celebrate my own success.
Keep one comfort from your home country nearby. A spice, a song, a photo, or a phrase that reminds you: I may be far, but I am not lost.
Keep your circle alive. Community is survival.
Find your place. I found mine in a library where I felt safe and at peace. And under a willow tree I used to hug when I missed my mother.
Talk to yourself like someone you love. Especially on hard days. You are not failing. You are fighting. Instead of fearing the unfamiliar, ask yourself: What am I here to learn?
Eat real meals. Cook with your own hands. Nourish your spirit.
Volunteer in a new area. I was holding a space for chair yoga for seniors in english and every class was a real practice for me. to challange myself
You are not starting over. You are starting from a place of strength, from survival, from a soul that refuses to give up.
Practice accent pride. Say it loud. Say it wrong. Say it anyway.
Be patient with your becoming. You can be proud of how far you have come and still be unsure about what is next.
You do not need permission to be powerful.
You already are.
Some people may ask or think, “You say all of this about resilience and growth, but you returned. Why?”
Yes, I did. I sometimes miss my life over there for sure. But I don’t know if I miss Canada or Gokce Gaia’s feelings while she is there and/or her experiences in the country.
And if you're wondering how I can speak of resilience, empowerment, and growth, and still return to where I started and here is what I will say:
Leaving taught me strength. Living abroad taught me perspective. And returning taught me humility, the kind that only comes when you let go of ego and listen deeply to your own truth. I did not return because I failed. I returned because I evolved. Sometimes the most courageous act is not pressing forward at all costs, but knowing when to pause, reflect, and reroute.
Not every dream has to be permanent to be real.
Not every path forward has to go in a straight line. So, if you also feel exhausted and miss your roots, consider also returning to your homeland.
Coming back was not giving up. It was choosing a version of myself that felt more whole. Not defined by location, but by values. Not by borders, but by belonging, to myself, first.
And I carry everything I learned with me.
The importance of friends like family.
The language.
The tears.
The wins.
The loneliness.
The pride.
The quiet courage of starting again and again. They came back with me. They are part of me. So yes, I returned. But I am not the same.
And that is the story.
Photo Credit: Published on April 19, 2023 Licensed under the Unsplash+ License
AI Credit: I used Open AI for grammar checks and order for titles.
