It’s been one month since I moved to the United States, and if I had to describe the feeling in one word—it would be surreal.
On paper, my life looks picture-perfect. I am married to a man who is kind, caring, and makes me feel at home even in this faraway land. I have a roof over my head, food on the table, and a home that smells of warmth and belonging. I have the very things I used to quietly crave when I was living alone—companionship, comfort, and the reassurance that someone is truly mine.
And yet, when I sit down to write my honest review of this new life, I realize—nothing in life is ever completely perfect.
Right now, I am living as a housewife, on a dependent visa. It sounds simple, even easy, but let me tell you—being a housewife is not at all easy.
You’re not just cooking or cleaning for yourself anymore, your decisions automatically include someone else. The food you cook, the daily rhythm of the house, the way you spend your day—everything now revolves around the both of us. And while there is beauty in partnership, there is also the quiet weight of responsibility.
Then comes the silence. After my husband leaves for work, the house feels too quiet. For someone like me—an extrovert, who thrived in conversations, office buzz, chai breaks, and random gossip—this silence sometimes feels unbearably loud. Hours stretch on, and I catch myself staring at the walls, wondering what to do next.I am an MBA graduate. I had a decent corporate career. I was used to waking up with a plan, chasing deadlines, making presentations, earning my own money, and enjoying the thrill of being independent.
Do I miss being employed? Yes, deeply.
Do I miss my toxic boss and the stressful work culture? No, not at all. That chapter of my life was draining in many ways. But what I do miss is the busy-ness. The feeling that my hours were invested in something productive, that I was learning, growing, upgrading myself constantly.
Now, the lack of structure feels strange. Sometimes I try to fill the gap with cooking experiments, long walks, or scrolling endlessly on my phone. Other times, I sit with my notebook and run a little mental exercise—I imagine two versions of myself.
- The Independent Shrisha—confident, working, ambitious, full of fire.
- The Good Housewife Shrisha—loving, supportive, managing the home beautifully.
And every time I compare the two, I realize something uncomfortable. Neither version of me feels completely happy. Both roles have their joys, both sides have their aches. But this one month has given me a realization I will carry forever: happiness cannot be borrowed.
It does not come from a job title.
It does not come from a paycheck.
It does not even come from a loving partner.
All of these things add comfort and flavor to life, yes—but the core of happiness, the sense of fulfillment, must come from within.
No one else can hand it to you. No career, no partner, no city, no country. If you are not at peace with yourself, nothing external can fill the void.
And this realization, though heavy, is strangely liberating.So here I am—one month in, still learning how to balance the old and new versions of myself. Some days, I feel grateful beyond words for the love and stability I have found. Other days, I feel restless, itching to do something meaningful, something that sparks the ambitious girl in me again.
And I’ve started telling myself—it’s okay to feel both. It’s okay to celebrate the love I have found and also miss the independence I once had. It’s okay to not fit neatly into one role. Because maybe life is not about choosing one version of yourself forever—it’s about allowing yourself to keep evolving, to hold contradictions, to embrace the messy beauty of “in-between.” There’s one dialogue from Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani that keeps echoing in my mind these days:
“Life mein kuch na kuch toh chhootega hi,
toh jahan ho, wahi ka maza lo.”
And that, I feel, is the truth of adulthood. No matter what you choose—career or marriage, independence or companionship, ambition or stability—something will always be left behind.
The trick is to not keep staring at the missing piece, but to enjoy the piece that’s right in front of you. So as I complete my first month in the U.S., this is my honest review: life is good, but it is not perfect. I have love, home, comfort—and I am grateful for it every day. But I also have restlessness, long silences, and a longing for independence.
I don’t know exactly how the next few months will unfold. Maybe I will find ways to upskill. Maybe I will build new routines. Maybe I will explore opportunities when they come my way. But one thing I do know for sure—this journey is teaching me to build happiness from within.
Because at the end of the day, life is not about having it all—it’s about making peace with what you have, and finding joy in the present moment.
🌸One month down, a lifetime to go—and I am ready to write this story, one honest page at a time.
💌 To Every Housewife:
What you do is not “less.” What you do is not “easy.” It takes patience, strength, and love that often goes unnoticed. Your worth is not defined by a paycheck—it is defined by the balance, care, and foundation you bring into your home and life. Nurture yourself, follow your passions, and never forget your inner spark.
💌 To the Girls Who Want It All:
To the ambitious, restless, hungry girls who dream of health, career, family, love, and luxury—don’t apologize for wanting it all. You will achieve it, not because life will hand it to you, but because you never give up. Your hunger, your drive, your dissatisfaction—they are the very fuel that will carry you to your dreams. Keep going, and keep believing in yourself. The world is yours. 🌟
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