Far from Home: Nostalgia and a New Balance in an Artistic Journey
- Ilaria Ermini
- Nov 6
- 4 min read
Updated: Nov 7
Traveling for work can be a privilege: new cities, unexpected stages, memorable encounters. For many traveling artists and professionals, it's part of the job.
But besides what you see, the excitement, the opportunities, the movement, there's a quieter side, what you feel inside when you're away from home for a long time.
It's not always easy, and it doesn't mean "not being strong enough."
When the roots move
Home isn't just a place. It's an invisible set of habits, faces, and routines that help us stay whole. When we're apart, we continue to function, but on new ground, which takes time to become familiar. Some people navigate this terrain with ease; others need to return periodically to find themselves.
Neither is better: they're just different ways of being in the world. Nostalgia doesn't always arrive like a wave. Sometimes it's a gentle tug, a discreet presence that says, "A part of you is elsewhere." It shouldn't be repressed: often it's just a reminder of what sustains us.
Nostalgia and presence
You can be somewhere, but not quite there. Sometimes you return to the hotel after an incredible show and feel a sort of emptiness: not discouragement, but a small gap between what we experience outside and what lives inside. From a psychological standpoint, this feeling is completely normal. Being away requires constant internal reorganization; you change rhythms, reference points, relationships, and the body must find new anchors each time. The signals can be subtle: shorter breathing, tightness in the chest, profound tiredness, irritability, difficulty concentrating. The body says, "I'm working to adapt." Listening to it means recognizing that we have an internal world that moves with us. The body communicates When external life demands flexibility, the physiological part also comes into play. The nervous system works to regulate our internal response to constant changes—the environment, the people, the schedules. It's a normal process, but it requires energy. The real question becomes: am I truly listening to internal signals while living what I love?
We're not all the same
People don't react the same way to distance.
It depends on their personal history, sensitivity, ability to regulate emotions, and the internal patterns that have accompanied us as we grew up.
Some people create an "internal home" wherever they are, while others need to return to their physical spaces to find stability.
There's no right way: there's what works for you, right now.
Judgments,"I should be able to do it," "others can do it", often block us more than the distance itself.
The reality is that what you feel... is simply what you feel. And it deserves to be listened to.
Comfort Zone: Does It Really Exist? We often talk about leaving our comfort zone, as if it were the only way to grow, but growth doesn't come from constant exposure to stress. We grow when we can alternate: rooting → expansion → integration. We aren't made to be constantly "outside" our comfort zone. Without an internal foundation, movement doesn't liberate: it consumes. Leaving, yes, but with awareness. Returning is equally necessary.
Sometimes life takes us outside our comfort zone, even without wanting to. The point isn't to push ourselves even further, but to listen to how we're feeling and how we can take care of ourselves as we experience what's happening. First, understand what's truly keeping us calm. Sometimes, what makes us feel bad isn't the distance, but the reason we're far away. We can pursue a profession because we're good at it, because others recognize us, because it seems like the logical choice, but what we know how to do doesn't always match what we truly desire.
Helpful questions:
Am I really choosing this rhythm?
Do I do it because I like it, or because it defines me in the eyes of others?
Is this work mine, but perhaps in another form?
Sometimes nostalgia is homesickness. Other times, it's nostalgia for oneself, for a more authentic way of being in one's work.
A little exercise:
for a week, every evening write a sentence that begins with:
"Today I felt that..."
Don't analyze it: write it down, simply pay attention to it. Rereading often reveals useful information.
Taking time isn't an escape Taking time for yourself is a form of self-regulation. When we're overloaded, even the things we love can become difficult. If we listen to our needs, travel and work remain nourishing experiences. Because we've built continuity. When we ignore our feelings, however, what we do loses quality, becomes a chore, and slowly drains us. The difference lies not so much in what we do, but in how we stay connected to ourselves while we do it. Everyone has their own path. There's no one-size-fits-all model. For some, travel is nourishing; for others, only for short periods. Balance isn't fixed: it changes with us. And recognizing it is already an act of healing.
The Value of Mentoring Mentoring isn't an endless journey. It's a dedicated space to pause, listen to what's happening, and work on the area that needs attention right now. If this article spoke to you, you can choose to delve deeper into it in the mentoring space. Together, we'll explore what's emerging and find tools that can support you continuously. If you'd like to continue reflecting on these topics, come back and read the next article. We'll discuss what it means to be a parent and an artist: a delicate and precious balance that involves not only mothers, but also fathers, often torn between distance, presence, and a sense of identity.
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