The cost of sacrificed opportunity. The price we pay for our decisions. Have I given up too much by moving to the UK? Maybe. And maybe not. Only time will tell.

Hi, I'm Yvette, a web designer and online marketing tutor, and this is part of my journey — a journey of building a life in a new country, navigating wins and losses, and discovering what it truly means to start over.

So, grab a coffee, settle in, and let’s begin.

January 2026 will mark ten years since I arrived in London with just one suitcase in hand. I thought I knew what I was getting myself into. I'd lived here before, back in the 90s, when, wide-eyed and baby-faced, I spent two years working as an au pair and learning English in the South of England.

I can still remember the excitement I felt when I got off the coach and my feet first touched British ground. Coming from the grey conformity of a post-communist country, the grass truly seemed greener over here. The fond memories of living in the country I loved so much have stayed with me throughout the years.

So, when, nearly 25 years later, I decided to take my chances for the second time, I was expecting to see the Britain I knew.

But boy, was I wrong. Globalisation and immigration had transformed the country beyond recognition. Back in the 90s, I felt (and was often made to feel) like a foreign guest here — somewhat of a rarity — but this time round, I'd have to be lucky to hear English spoken on a train.

Mind you, back in the 90s, technology was still in its infancy and mobile phones were not yet a thing. In order to have a conversation, people travelling on the train would actually have to approach the stranger sitting next to them, which, let's face it, requires courage and social skills.

It's much easier these days to just pick up a smartphone and start a journey-long chat about nothing with people who can't refuse to talk to you: your family and relatives. And since these are the people who speak the same language as you, why bother with English, right?

Despite — or perhaps because of — that, the June 2016 Brexit came as a surprise to me. "What's the point of voting to stop Europeans coming into your country when it's full of people from Asia and Africa — with new ones arriving every day?" I thought to myself. But the British didn't see my reasoning as logical. Full of anger and colonial pride, they voted to leave the EU and close the door to European free movement.

Of course, the door wasn't slammed shut at once. It simply wouldn't be the British if they hadn't done it in their own flexible and lenient way. That's why, as an EU citizen officially settled in the UK, I can still use my European ID to travel in and out of the country and even bring certain members of my family to live here. Not that there is any need for that.

January 2026 will mark ten years since I arrived in London with just one suitcase in hand. A lot has happened since then. I made it through Brexit, settled, finished my education, learned to code and got into tech - something I'd never think possible while living elsewhere.

So, here I am, ten years on. I've already set some time aside this coming January - time I will spend contemplating and reflecting on how things have or have not worked out for me. In many ways, I gained a lot by moving here. And in many ways, I lost a lot and was left disappointed.

The cost of sacrificed opportunity. The price we pay for the decisions we make. Have I made a mistake settling in the UK? Perhaps. Would I have been better off moving to another country? Maybe. Maybe not.

And even though I have crossed the threshold of middle age, with fewer days before me than behind, I simply must believe there is still time to live life — and to live it well.

Perhaps it's time to leave again - at least for a while. After all, the UK still owes me one last chance at return. Third time's the charm, they say.