Things no one tells you about when studying abroad

Nobody tells you that the hardest part about studying abroad isn't the academics, the language barrier, or even the culture shock. It's the quiet moments at 2 a.m. when you're lying awake in a foreign country, questioning every life choice that led you here.

One month before I was set to leave India for the United States, I was buzzing with so much excitement that sleep became an afterthought. I had devoured every American college movie I could find, thinking I would make lifelong friends, and attend glamorous parties. I was convinced my life was about to be amazing.

Reality slapped me in the face during orientation week. Jet-lagged and disoriented, I found myself drowning in a sea of unfamiliar faces. Everyone else seemed to effortlessly form groups, their laughter echoing in the hallways while I fumbled with campus maps and schedules. Anxiety was at peak. Back home, I was confident and outgoing. Here, I was invisible.

No one talks about the isolation that comes with being an international student, especially as a woman. The subtle cultural nuances that make fitting in feel like solving a complex puzzle without all the pieces. I remember calling my parents, tears streaming down my face, as I confessed that I'd made a terrible mistake. I felt stupid for not adjusting quickly, for not instantly thriving in this new environment. But no one tells you that it's okay to feel lost.

Academically, I was spiralling. In India, I had been at the top of my class, but here, the coursework was relentless. I overloaded myself, desperate to prove that I belonged, that I was just as capable as everyone else. I stayed up late, fuelled by caffeine and sheer panic, trying to keep up. I was chasing an impossible standard, and it was slowly breaking me.

The financial strain was another silent burden. Every time I handed over my credit card, I couldn't help converting dollars back into rupees in my head. "$10 for a sandwich? That's 750 rupees! I could eat for a week back home with that." Guilt gnawed at me, and I began skipping meals to save money, a dangerous habit that no one warns you about.

Making friends wasn't the effortless experience I had imagined. I attended social events, plastering on a smile while feeling completely out of place. I tried joining study groups, clubs, anything to find my tribe. But I was met with polite indifference or, worse, patronizing attempts at inclusivity that only highlighted how different I was. As a woman in Computer Science, a field dominated by men, I often felt undermined or overlooked. My ideas were dismissed in group projects, and I was tired of having to assert myself constantly.

There's an unspoken pressure to not just succeed but to excel spectacularly when you're studying abroad. Family back home boasts about you, friends envy you, and everyone expects you to come back with tales of conquest. But no one prepares you for the crushing weight of those expectations.

Burnout crept up on me like a thief in the night. I was exhausted, physically and mentally. My grades started slipping, and the harder I tried to claw my way back up, the more I sank. Sleep became a luxury, and anxiety attacks became routine. I was a mess behind closed doors, but I couldn't let anyone see me crack. Admitting I was struggling felt like admitting defeat.

One day, after a particularly brutal exam, I found myself sitting on a bench overlooking the campus pond. I watched ducks glide effortlessly across the water, and I envied their simplicity. I felt a sudden rage at myself for being so weak, for not living up to the idealized version of myself I had constructed.

But in that moment of self-loathing, something shifted. I realized I was tired of pretending. Tired of forcing myself into molds that didn't fit. I had been so busy trying to survive that I'd forgotten how to live.

I started prioritizing my mental health. I sought out counseling services, something that felt taboo but was desperately needed. I scaled back my course load, allowing myself to focus on truly understanding the material rather than just scraping by. I stopped converting every expense into rupees and instead created a reasonable budget in dollars. It wasn't about being reckless; it was about accepting that this was my new normal.

I began reaching out to other international students, and we formed our own makeshift family. We bonded over shared experiences—the guilt, the frustration, the fear. It was liberating to know I wasn't alone.

Coding had always intimidated me, a fact I desperately tried to hide. In group projects, I often took on the documentation or presentation roles to avoid getting my hands dirty with actual code. But I couldn't escape it forever. One night, frustrated and fuelled by a stubborn desire to conquer my fears, I dove into online tutorials. I broke down complex problems into manageable chunks, celebrating small victories along the way. Gradually, I started to see coding not as an insurmountable barrier but as a series of puzzles waiting to be solved.

By the end of the semester, I wasn't just surviving; I was thriving on my own terms. My grades improved, but more importantly, so did my self-worth. I learned that it's okay to ask for help, to admit vulnerability. Strength isn't about never falling; it's about rising each time you do.

No one tells you that studying abroad will strip you down to your core and force you to confront every insecurity you've ever harbored. They don't tell you that success isn't a straight line but a series of peaks and valleys. They omit the messy, unglamorous truth that sometimes, growth hurts.

As women, we're often taught to downplay our struggles, to carry burdens silently. But I've learned that sharing our stories isn't a sign of weakness; it's an act of defiance against unrealistic expectations.

So here's what no one tells you about studying abroad: It's not just an educational journey but a transformative one. It's about finding your voice in a world that tries to silence you, about embracing your uniqueness in the face of conformity. It's about realizing that you don't have to fit into a predetermined box; you can create your own space.

Studying abroad broke me apart and put me back together differently. Not better or worse, just more authentically me. And that's a story worth telling.