My Journey from Sri Lanka to Scotland: A Dream Seven Years in the Making

By Suhaila

For seven years, I waited.
Not just waited, but held my breath—hoping, wondering, fearing.

Every decision I made in Sri Lanka felt like a question mark. Should I buy these school textbooks? Should I enroll in this course? Should I just do what I want here? Or will I regret it if I leave tomorrow?

Because when you're a refugee, you're not just in limbo physically. You're in emotional, mental, and spiritual limbo, too. You're stuck in a place that doesn’t let you fully stay or fully leave.

What I mean when I say we couldn’t fully stay is that we weren’t allowed to work, we couldn’t open a bank account, and I struggled with their language, Sinhalese. It was hard to build a life under those conditions, so no matter how long I was there, it never truly felt like home.

And worst of all, I had no idea when things would ever change. It felt like living the same nightmare every single day, with no end in sight.

I was in Sri Lanka for almost seven years and I lived in the shadows of uncertainty. As refugees, we were often spoken of like we’d be leaving "soon," though that word quickly lost meaning.

From 2020 onward, every year became another mark on the calendar of waiting.
COVID-19 came. Wars broke out. Hope shrank. Friends I had shared laughter and struggle with were suddenly resettled — off to their new lives, their new futures. And I remained behind.

2024 was the hardest year. I felt lost, stuck, and unmotivated. I didn’t feel like anything anymore. There were moments I questioned whether my dreams had an expiry date.

But something kept me going. A quiet voice inside that said: "Dreams come true. Maybe not now, but someday."

And then, someday arrived.

In February 2025, I landed in Scotland — my resettlement, my fresh start, my long-awaited miracle.

But it wasn’t just a new country. It was the first time I felt like I could finally breathe. I could finally plan. I could finally live.

Now, I live in Clydebank — a place that has already felt more like home than anywhere else. I received my first bank card — something so ordinary, yet something I once considered impossible. I’m also writing a book, something I always dreamed of but never believed I could achieve in Sri Lanka due to language barriers and publishing limitations. But here, I’m not just writing. I’m planning to publish.

And that’s the beauty of all of this: In Sri Lanka, I couldn’t plan more than a day ahead. In Scotland, I’m planning the future.

I used to feel guilty for feeling hopeless, because I had a roof over my head and food to eat. But what I’ve learned is that it’s okay to struggle, even when you're surviving. That doesn’t make you ungrateful.

It makes you human.

But the biggest lesson of all? Things happen at the right time.

If I had come here earlier, I might not have been ready. But now, I’m at the right age, with the right mindset, and a heart full of dreams ready to take flight.

Scotland isn’t just my new home. It’s my second chance.

And I’m finally living the life I dreamed of for seven long years.

Support Clydesider and get every issue posted direct to your door from just £3 per month: Join Clydesider Community Magazine's Membership