Moving – eek. It’s a chore and a half, but moving abroad? That’s a whole different level of madness.
After 22 years in Ontario, Canada, the universe gave me a nudge. And by nudge, I mean a full-blown shove. It was time to go home — back to London, England.
Now, let’s be real, I was torn. I had spent decades raising a family, building a successful business (shoutout to Henna4You!), making friends, building a community and creating a life I loved. Canadian summers were glorious, I even found charm in the -30°C winters (yes, really), and I adored my recreational rowing, kayaking, and scenic walking trails. But London? London is all about grey skies and rain. Fabulous.
Packing up an entire house is exhausting. The kicker? I had only moved into this rental 12 months prior, having already gone through a major downsize. Surely, this round would be easier, right? Ha! Turns out, deciding what to pack, sell, or donate when moving to a country with a different voltage (220V, whyyyy?) adds a whole new layer of stress.
Now, if you know me, you’ll know I don’t usually ask for help. I’d rather muscle through everything myself, but even I had to admit defeat. Between working full-time (hello, 12-hour shifts) and trying to pack an entire house, I was drowning. Thankfully, I swallowed my pride, and my friends stepped up. My youngest even helped for a few days (who moved with me) — miracles do happen!
I started with the easy stuff, ticking things off my list like a packing ninja. The kitchen? A nightmare. Apparently, nobody wants second-hand or new small appliances (seriously, why?). I managed to sell and donate a lot. My sister from another mother, my eldest, and friends got all of my freezer, fridge, and pantry stash. The hardest goodbye? My plants — tropical beauties that had thrived under my care. The real heartbreak? A stunning Bird of Paradise, a Mother’s Day gift from my boys. I swear, parting with that plant nearly broke me and leaving my eldest behind of course – lol.
And just when I thought I had all the travel logistics figured out, the airline hit me with a surprise, 6 days before our flights. I was originally told, 4 weeks ago when I booked the flights, I just needed to call a couple of days before flying to book my pets, only to find out that I actually needed to go through a specialist cargo company because I was flying into the UK. Why didn’t the other customer service agent give me this information?? Cue the panic! I was on the phone, booking appointments, arranging vet visits, and dealing with the CFIA (Canadian Food Inspection Agency) to get the paperwork in order.
Then, just four days before our flight, the universe decided to throw one more test my way, on the day of vet and CFIA appointments — I had a car accident. An ice storm, an overtaking manoeuvre, and a split-second decision meant I ended up gouging a massive hole in the side of my loyal Mazda 5 when it hit the garbage truck. I had no time to dwell on it, though. I still had pet paperwork to sort, and new crates to buy last-minute when I was told they were 1.5” too small. Then the day before our flight, the cargo company called - there was no space for my beloved pets on the booked flight. This was when I broke down into heaving sobs and had to pull over as I couldn’t drive through the tears. I rearranged the flights and of course ended up paying extra as it was half term (schools are closed for a week in London) and the prices had gone up! Absolute chaos.
Then came the real kicker: the paperwork for Samosa (dog) and Kajal (cat). Three days — THREE — of endless visits to the vet and CFIA offices, calls, emails, and forms to get their travel documents sorted. And yet, when I landed in London, it was still wrong. Not my vet’s fault, not the CFIA’s fault, but thanks to some truly terrible instructions on the health certificates, we hit a massive delay. Landed at 9:15 AM, breezed through passport control and customs by 10:15 AM, but did we get to leave? Nope. We were stuck at Gatwick until 6:30 PM waiting for corrected paperwork (the Health Certificate needed the date of the rabies vaccines). Absolute nightmare.
Enter: my lifesaving friend. He rented a van, picked us up at noon, and stuck around for the entire ordeal, keeping me sane while I frantically emailed the vet and various offices. When we finally got clearance, we still had a 90-minute drive home. By the time we unloaded and did an emergency Tesco run for pet supplies, I was running on fumes.
And then? My body gave up.
I had been in survival mode for months — running purely on adrenaline. Packing, organising, working, barely sleeping. But once I landed, my body said, "Nope, you’re done." I crashed. Hard. I was in bed for 10 days, barely able to lift my head. The exhaustion, the stress, the endless waiting at the airport — it all caught up with me. The burnout was real, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. 
If it weren’t for my meditation and mindfulness practice over the last three months, I honestly don’t think I would have survived. It was the one thing that kept me grounded amidst the chaos.
There are other wins. I managed to unpack the suitcases (don’t ask me where everything is, though — there are still piles everywhere in the front living room. And in a moment of creative inspiration, I tackled my wall mural. I knew I needed a gorgeous background for content creation, so I went for it. Mostly black, with just enough splashes of colour to make it pop. Not bad for week three in London! Let me have your thoughts!
Next on the list? Setting up my desk, laptop, and workspace so I could get back to functioning like a human. Which brings us to this blog — proof that I’ve somewhat pulled myself together.
Now, I have to give a shout out to some amazing peeps. I don’t even have words for how grateful and blessed I am to the incredible friends who helped me through this. Judy & Steve, you absolute legends — thank you for letting me stay at Casa Applebee, for letting me pack and repack, and for tolerating the chaos of my belongings cluttering up your hallway. Tina, you brought the wine, the laughter, and the much-needed energy to tackle vacuum-sealing clothes and deep-cleaning the house — bless you. Juliette, you saved me by looking after Kajal. Abs, you flew in during the madness of Christmas just to help me pack — who does that? You do. Jaishree for keeping me sane and bringing me back to Earth just when I thought I couldn’t do it anymore. And Rakesh, you were a rock, picking us up from the airport, keeping us awake and entertained through the Gatwick madness, and making sure my fur babies made it home safe. I couldn’t have done it without you all. And a final acknowledgement to my mum who had hot food waiting for us as soon as we walked in!
The moral of the story? You can only run on adrenaline and fumes for so long before the universe forces you to stop. And trust me, it will. Whether you listen to the warning signs or get taken out by sheer exhaustion (guilty), rest and healing are non-negotiable.
Oh, and did I mention? There are still 100+ Home Depot boxes enroute because apparently, this chaos isn’t quite over yet. Send tea. And biscuits. Lots and lots of McVities Dark Chocolate Gluten Free biscuits, please and thank you!
