One of the things I struggled with the most when we lived in New Zealand—and this is going to sound crazy—is life being so easy. I know, what a ridiculous thing to say. It’s true though. I don’t mean that we spent our days sipping cocktails, staring at beautiful views without a care in the world. Actually that last bit does come close to what I mean. You are so far away from the rest of the world on this beautiful, hardly populated island, safe and secure, that you don’t have to worry about the rest of the world. Yes, the bills are high, you still have to do maintenance on your house, teenagers are hard to live with wherever you are, but the things you have to care about are only in your world. Other people’s worlds rarely interrupt your day.

Right now, I wonder how I thought that was such a bad thing as I feel like I am drowning in cares and woes.

Our dog has developed some kind of cyclical diarrhoea that comes with no warning and explodes somewhere in our little terraced house every four to six weeks. The vets don’t have a definitive answer so I worry about how long it will last, how much money we will have to spend to find out what is wrong, how we can live every night wondering what horrific disaster might greet us in the morning.

For the last few months, I have applied for lots of jobs. I haven’t had one interview. Too many other candidates are better suited for the job apparently. One job had 2,000 applicants! I worry that I am too small a fish in a giant pond to ever find my place.

The previous concern is generally right next to the one about money. Moving to a new country is expensive; made worse by unexpected costs like mending a leak in your roof or digging out and replacing your living room floor because it’s been acting as shelter to a colony of rats for who knows how long. Not to mention the regular ‘one-off’ sums for cars, birthdays, holidays, medical or vet bills, clothes, school trips. I worry that our budget that works on paper, won’t work when faced with the reality of life and all it’s unplanned expenses.

Health symptoms are a big one for me. Are my palpitations, upset stomach, pain in chest to do with acid reflux, perimenopause or something more sinister? Will I ever get to talk to a doctor about it? Should my husband do more about his recurring eye infection? Why did my daughter faint two days ago? Am I missing something?

Which makes me circle back to the dog and the house – are we all just symptomatic of some life-threatening mould growing on our walls that we aren’t aware of? Is this all because we should be in New Zealand where life is easy, and the worst problem with our house was ants?

That’s just it though. Even in beautiful, easy New Zealand, we had ants that infiltrated our kitchen in their millions and no matter what we did, if there was even a drip of juice left on a counter they would be marching in their lines within minutes. It drove me mad!

In four years, I had three polyps removed from different orifices, my daughter had to give up swimming her eczema was so bad, I was super stressed working long hours doing work I didn’t enjoy and still we didn’t have enough money. We didn’t see our family, or if we did it was for intense periods that were either too long or too short. I missed my friends and the depth of relationship I have with people who have known me for decades. I missed the Lake District, and Marks and Spencers, BBC TV and Radio 1, 2 and 4, British humour and pub gardens. Evidently I was unsettled enough that I felt it was right to sell our beautiful house, say goodbye to our life, friends and the ants and come back to the UK, where we were warned by many, it was hard going.

We have noticed the difference living in the UK where the news is constantly telling us about the problems of our country, of Europe, America, and the Middle East and how it’s our responsibility to fix them. I wanted to be closer to family but that means I know more and I care more, and I legitimately could be doing more now that I am on the same island. My children talk about the differences in teenagers here and I worry that they are being exposed to too much too soon. Roads are busier, so are schools, hospitals, shops, cafes, beaches, cinemas. There are more people, less space.

I can’t be surprised then that it has been a hard year since we moved back. But it feels so hard right now, I worry we should have stayed in New Zealand, where things were easier. Maybe I am not cut out for living in a country of 68 million and whatever it is that is upsetting my dog’s bowels.

If we’d stayed, would I be happy right now? Wouldn’t I still have things that would cause me stress? And wouldn’t my body react to that stress with acid reflux or palpitations? I would have still turned 49 and have the same hormone imbalances. The dog might still have developed a digestive problem. I might have plenty of work but hate it. My children would have stayed in their schools with their friends, but they wouldn’t have met the friends they have here or be expanding their brains in a more challenging curriculum.

Point is, we’ll never know what life would be like if we’d stayed. And as a wise friend of mine once said, can you add even one hour to your life by worrying? In fact, we now know that worrying takes hours off your life. Every living being has cares and worries, I know that my cares are minimal in comparison to most. I have been given a life to live, with its strifes and strains, it’s mine to live; so one day at a time, trying my best to not worry, I shall live it.