It’s no secret anymore—I no longer live in Canada. A relative once asked me, somewhat mockingly, “Why try so hard to come here just to leave?”
I smiled. How could I possibly answer such a complex question in a simple way?
While it may seem straightforward, it carries a lot of weight.
I want to share my perspective and tell my story, hoping it might resonate with someone. It’s important to hear the truth and authentic experiences rather than just the overly rosy portrayals of life in Canada.
That said, my observations and experiences are uniquely my own. I’m not sharing this to debate anyone’s feelings about Canada; I simply want to offer my truth.
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Some of my friends were surprised too when I made the decision. We left everything behind, uprooted our entire lives, and returned to Vietnam.
Why?
Some people ask. Others offer a simple, “Oh, cool,” as if they respect the choice. Maybe they really are happy to see me back, or maybe it’s just politeness.
Is my decision the right one?
Who’s to judge that? No one.
People grow, people change. So do places, even Canada.
I never imagined I would leave. I spent years planning, working, and dreaming of a future there. But I never said, “I’ll never go back.” Because, well, life teaches you—nothing is for certain.
Five years. Half a decade.
From work visa holder, to extended work permit, to permanent residency, to citizenship. To finally holding that passport in my hand. It was a journey. A journey filled with tears, endless paperwork, and moments that made me feel small, lost in the limbo of a immigrant.
I didn’t get my permanent residency before landing in Canada. I wasn’t sponsored by a husband. I did this myself. Every step of the way, I earned it. No help from my parents—financially or otherwise. Just me.
I had to leave my son behind. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done—leaving my child to settle in a foreign land. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
But it was the only way. The better way, for us.
For a year and a half, I lived far from him, with so much uncertainty. It was painful. Then, finally, we were reunited—an emotional story all its own. It was during COVID, and in that moment, I felt like I could breathe again. Like I had the strength to keep going.
I met my husband, we built a family. Life was good, personally. But outside of our home, in society and the economy, things kept getting harder.
Table of Contents
The back story
I want to share my personal story, understanding that everyone’s experience is different. If you have wealth or family support, life in Canada might be easier for you.
For my husband and me, we’ve been on our own. We didn’t have financial or emotional support from our families, and that has shaped our journey.
We have enough for a down payment, but the thought of spending 1.5 million on a decent house in Toronto in a place where six months are filled with darkness and gloomy weather is starting to lose its appeal. (Toronto house price on average is 1.1 million)
We are two free spirits who crave adventure. We want to travel, work remotely, and ideally retire early. Taking on a hefty mortgage would only weigh us down. This situation has prompted us to reflect on what truly matters to us.
Some observations on the culture
Another realization that has dawned on me is that Canada isn’t as welcoming a culture as I once thought. Or at least that’s the Canada that I know.
This observation has been echoed by many locals and individuals who have lived here for over a decade. Making new friends and finding a supportive circle can be challenging; people often seem too busy and guarded, creating an invisible wall.
Perhaps my experience is influenced by living in Toronto, or maybe I simply miss my support system. Regardless, I often find myself feeling lonely in Canada.
I’ve also noticed that Canadian culture feels somewhat diluted by the influx of immigrants, particularly with the significant presence of Indian communities everywhere.
It seems we have pockets of cultures coexisting, while the core Canadian culture gradually fades into the background.
The endless depression and the economy
Every winter I battled with cabin fever and seasonal depression disorder and I kept asking myself, “What’s the point of living like this? Why am I holding on to a place where I no longer feel joy?”
As the economy began to shift, we noticed rising costs, but instead of feeling overwhelmed, we see it as an opportunity to reassess our priorities. It’s a chance to explore new paths and find creative solutions.
We believe that every challenge can lead to new possibilities, and we are committed to finding joy and fulfillment in our lives, no matter where we are.
“What’s the point of living a life where joy is absent? Without it, we’re merely existing, not truly living.”
The healthcare system
One major factor that’s pushed me to rethink our future is the failling healthcare system here. It’s nowhere near what it is in Vietnam. The system is painfully slow and overwhelmed. If you need to go to the ER, you could be waiting 4 to 6 hours, completely unattended. It’s the kind of nightmare I never want to experience, but I know others who have.
Let me give you an example—a simple checkup for my son:
In February, I needed to book an ultrasound for him. First, I had to schedule an appointment with our family doctor. He then referred us to a specialist. It took a month just to get that specialist appointment in March.
After seeing him, he said my son needed an ultrasound, which required yet another referral to the hospital. We faxed over the paperwork and then waited three weeks just to get a call from the hospital.
When they finally called, we missed it because we were on a road trip in the U.S. It was April. When I called them back, the slot they had was no longer available, and they had to search for another one, which wasn’t until the end of May.
Finally, at the end of May, I brought him in for the ultrasound. Then we waited. Days turned into weeks, and I kept checking the website for the results, but nothing came. Eventually, I just gave up.
Living in Canada has made me appreciate how quick and responsive the healthcare system is in Vietnam. I don’t want to live in a place where, if something happens to my health, I wouldn’t find out until it’s too late. No matter how people try to paint a rosy picture of life here, for me, it’s not worth it.
The healthcare here seems only to work well for pregnant women or people with terminal illnesses. For anyone else trying to maintain their health or catch something early, it’s just not good enough.
At some point, we lost the desire to keep living in Canada.
When we visited Vietnam last December, that trip validated everything I’d been feeling.
THE DECISION
The greatest lesson I’ve learned is that no matter where you are, if joy is missing, it’s time to find the courage to rewrite your story
The trip to Vietnam last December felt like a long-awaited breath of fresh air. As soon as we landed, something inside me shifted. The warmth, both from the weather and the people, enveloped me in a way I hadn’t felt in years.
It was more than just nostalgia—it was a reminder of the life I wanted to live. A life where healthcare is accessible and efficient and access to my support system. A life where I don’t dread the long, dark winters or feel like I’m constantly just trying to keep my head above water. A life that, in many ways, felt simpler but more aligned with my values and needs.
Returning to Canada after that trip only solidified what I already knew deep down: I couldn’t see a future here anymore.
The thought of struggling through the harsh winters, dealing with a healthcare system that felt broken, and working just to pay off a mortgage until retirement suddenly seemed like a trap rather than a dream.
It’s not an easy decision to walk away from a country that’s given me so much. Canada promised to offer opportunities, stability, and a place to build a life. But sometimes, the hardest truth to accept is that what was once right for you no longer serves you.
I carry both gratitude for what Canada has provided and excitement for the future that awaits. Moving back to Vietnam isn’t about running away; it’s about reclaiming a life that feels joyful, balanced, and sustainable.
And for the first time in a long while, I feel at peace with that choice.
I don’t know what the future holds. Maybe, in a few years, Canada will call to us again. But this time, I have the privilege of choosing where to live—a privilege I don’t take for granted.
For now, it’s time to begin a new journey, with fresh perspectives and a new chapter in Vietnam.
Back to Vietnam
We see greater potential in the Vietnamese economy. It’s growing, and we’ve already started our business here. I’ve come to appreciate what Vietnam offers much more than I did six years ago: wonderful people, rich culture, a supportive community, and delicious food.
Of course, I could list many criticisms of Vietnam, but my journey to Canada taught me an important lesson: there’s no paradise on earth. Every country has its own challenges, and as an outsider, it’s easy to overlook them.
For now, Vietnam feels like the right place for us. My husband loves Vietnam, and my son is eager to return. Everything seems to align perfectly.
If I have one parting message to share, it’s this:
Explore the world. Dare to leave your home country and step out of your comfort zone. You will grow and begin to see things more holistically, helping you understand what truly fits you in that moment.
There is no wrong or right decision—only the choice that resonates most with you. Trust your heart and listen to its guidance.
If my journey of leaving Vietnam has inspired you to reflect on your own path, consider enhancing your professional English and cultural sensitivity. My courses are designed to empower you with the skills you need to navigate new environments confidently and effectively.
Join me in the upcoming workshop, where we’ll explore these essential skills in greater depth, helping you adapt and thrive in diverse settings.
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Let’s take this journey of growth and understanding together. I can’t wait to support you on your path!
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