The Geography of Burnout: Why Japan No Longer Feels Like Home

Moving to Tokyo at 22 served as a potent antidote to depression, a fresh start defined by novelty and the thrill of reinvention. Now 31, Laura Pollacco finds herself trapped in a cycle of familiar disillusionment, questioning whether her malaise is a symptom of her environment or a struggle with herself.

In 2016, Pollacco left England for Japan through the JET Program, seeking refuge from the stagnation of post-graduate life. The transition worked. Immersing herself in Kanagawa’s culture, kendo, and new social circles, she shed her depressive state and rebuilt her identity. A brief return to the UK during the pandemic, however, proved jarring. Finding her professional footing in the UK difficult, she returned to Tokyo in 2022 on a working holiday visa, later transitioning to a journalism visa in 2023.

Yet, the second chapter has proved more complex. Professional burnout and the persistent barrier of language have transformed the city from a sanctuary into a source of fatigue. The annual anxiety of visa renewals and a perceived rise in anti-foreigner sentiment have left her feeling alienated in the concrete landscape of Tokyo. She now finds herself romanticizing the pastoral simplicity of her English youth, caught between the desire to push through a difficult season and the urge to abandon the life she spent years constructing.