In my first post, I told you about my breaking point. That raw, uncomfortable moment of looking in the mirror and deciding I couldn’t live on ‘pause’ anymore. I realized I was wasting the absolute best years of my life lying in bed, swallowed by expat depression, stress-eating, and self-pity. The realization was like a bucket of ice water. But here is the hard truth about hitting rock bottom: realizing you need to change and actually changing are two entirely different beasts.
There was no magic switch. I didn’t wake up the next day as a completely new, hyper-productive person with a flawless Plan B. I had no energy, a fuzzy future, and a body that felt heavy and unfamiliar from 15 extra kilograms of stress. I knew that if I tried to fix my entire life overnight, I would crash and burn. Instead, I had to rebuild my reality brick by brick. Here is exactly how I did it.
Taking back control of my body
When your mental health is plummeting, your physical health is usually the first casualty. My coping mechanism for the stress of moving abroad and a painful breakup was food. I was constantly seeking cheap dopamine through sweets and junk food.
To break the cycle, I knew I had to introduce radical discipline. I made the conscious, difficult decision to completely cut out sweets and overhaul my nutrition. The first few weeks were miserable. My body craved the sugar, and my mind craved the comfort. But replacing emotional eating with actual nourishment was the first step toward respecting myself again.
Then, I introduced sports. I didn’t start exercising to get a perfect “summer body”; I started because I needed an outlet for my anxiety. I forced myself to move, to sweat, and to push my physical limits. Every time I finished a workout, even when I desperately wanted to quit five minutes in, I proved something crucial to myself: I can do hard things. That physical endurance slowly began to translate into mental resilience.
Facing the reality of the Swiss housing market
While I was rebuilding my internal world, my external world still needed fixing. I desperately needed my own place—a safe haven where I could truly feel at home in this new country. Anyone who has moved to Switzerland knows that the housing market here is notoriously brutal.
I dove into the paperwork, writing motivation letters, collecting references, and showing up to viewing after viewing. And then came the rejections. So many rejections. With every “We regret to inform you…” email, the old, pessimistic voice in my head whispered that I was a failure and that I didn’t belong here. But the discipline I was building in my workouts kicked in. I refused to give up. I tweaked my strategy, sent out more applications, and treated the search like a second job. After a massive amount of “no’s,” I finally got my “yes.” Getting the keys to my own apartment was a monumental victory. It wasn’t just a place to live; it was physical proof that I was capable of rooting myself in a foreign land.
Saying “Yes” to life and people
Perhaps the hardest step of all was breaking out of my self-imposed isolation. When I gained weight and lost my sense of direction, my instinct was to hide. I put off meeting people because I didn’t feel “resourceful” enough, and frankly, because I was deeply insecure about how I looked.
But isolation is the fuel that keeps depression burning. I had to force myself back into the world. I made a promise to myself to start saying “yes.” When my friends invited me out, I forced myself to get dressed and go, even if I only stayed for an hour. I pushed myself to attend new events, to network, and to meet strangers.
I won’t lie—it was exhausting. For an introvert recovering from a depressive episode, trying to make small talk in a new country feels like running a marathon. There were awkward moments, language barriers, and times I felt completely out of place. But slowly, the ice melted. I started laughing genuinely. I started feeling the warmth of human connection. By opening myself up to the world, I finally started to feel alive again.
Taking the ultimate risk
Once the fog of depression began to clear, I realized I wanted more than just survival—I wanted growth. My previous routines were broken, which meant I had a blank canvas. I decided to take a massive risk: I applied to university.
Choosing to pursue my first degree entirely in a foreign language terrified me. It meant stepping far outside my comfort zone, risking academic failure, and competing in an environment where I was already at a linguistic disadvantage. But the old Ana—the one who planned everything and played it safe—was gone. The new Ana knew that taking risks was the only way to truly live. I hit ‘submit’ on my application, embracing the uncertainty.
Today, my life isn’t a flawless Instagram aesthetic. It is messy, demanding, and constantly challenging. But it is mine. I fought for it through discipline, countless rejections, and terrifying leaps of faith.
If you are reading this from that dark place, feeling like you’ve lost yourself after moving abroad, please hear this: You don’t need to have it all figured out today. You just need to take one small step. Go for a walk. Say no to the sugar rush. Send one more application. Say yes to one coffee date. The magic isn’t in a sudden transformation; it’s in the quiet, relentless decision to keep showing up for yourself, day after day. You’ve got this.
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