7 European Habits That Cured My American Burnout

Before Europe Slowed Me Down, I Didn’t Even Realize I Was Exhausted

How Life in Ukraine, France, Albania and Georgia Showed Me That Hustling Is Not a Personality Trait, It’s a Warning Sign

Have you ever tried to out-relax the locals in France? 

Trust me, you’ll lose. Every time.

Before moving abroad, I thought I knew how to relax. 

I’d fly to Mexico or Greece, blow half my savings in four days, and call it “recharging.” It wasn’t a vacation, it was a sprint in sandals.

I’d then go on to drink something tropical by the water, snap a few pics, then return home feeling like I needed a vacation from my vacation. 

That was my rhythm. 

A rush to disconnect, only to rush back into chaos.

But then came France. Then Ukraine. Then Georgia, Albania. And slowly, without meaning to, I started doing everything… differently.

I ate slower.

I talked less.

I stopped smiling at strangers like a malfunctioning, phony cruise director.

I even started enjoying silence without feeling like I had to fill it with small talk or snacks.

Somewhere between the long lunches in France and the stone-faced stares in the Kyiv metro, something rewired in me. 

For the first time, I didn’t feel like I was managing anxiety, I felt like I was finally from it.

Living in the U.S., stress was baked into the schedule. Always trying to get ahead, but always falling further behind.

If you weren’t exhausted, were you even trying?

I watched Albanians sip coffee for hours like it was an Olympic event.

I wandered through Spanish parks where people still read actual books.

That’s when it hit me. 

Maybe the problem wasn’t me.

Maybe it was the cultural default settings I never thought to question.

In this article, I’m sharing seven habits I picked up while living in France, Ukraine, Georgia, and a few other quiet corners of Europe. 

Habits that unexpectedly helped me sleep better, breathe deeper, and stop apologizing for just existing.

• No meditation apps.
• No cheesy yoga retreats.
• No overpriced supplements.

Just cultural rewiring, one strange but healing behavior at a time.

1. Why I Stopped Smiling at Everyone and Felt Safer

In the U.S., I was trained to smile like a politician on a campaign trail. Grocery store? Smile. Elevator? Smile.

Apologize for existing? Smile harder.

But in Ukraine and France, I learned quickly that smiling at strangers for no reason makes you look either unhinged or suspicious.

In Kyiv, a woman on the Metro shot me a quick, stern look as I smiled and tightened the grip on her purse.

In Paris, the same expression got me the kind of stare usually reserved for someone who just asked if ketchup belongs on croissants.

The real surprise? I loved it.

The mental pressure to perform disappeared.

I didn’t have to win anyone over with my face. I could just be. 

But somehow, in that stoic silence, I felt more emotionally secure than I ever had with all my performative grinning.

Culture Check: If smiling constantly makes you feel safe, it might be masking a deeper fear.

Try neutral. Try still. See what surfaces.

2. How Quiet Commutes Calmed My Brain

The first time I rode the Kyiv metro, I thought I’d accidentally walked into a silent protest. No one was talking. No earbuds. No small talk. No screens.

Just the hum of the train and a city collectively minding its own business.

Same vibe in Tbilisi. Bus rides were like floating meditation sessions.

No one blared videos, nobody gave play-by-plays of their weekend over speakerphone.

Back in the U.S., a ten-minute NYC subway ride is a social experiment in overstimulation.

That contrast hit hard. Turns out, silence isn’t awkward. It’s restorative.

My brain stopped sprinting.

My nervous system downshifted.

And somewhere between Arsenalna and Khreshchatyk Metro stations in Kyiv, I realized I didn’t need background noise to prove I existed.

Here’s the Shift: Silence isn’t empty.

It’s full of everything you’ve been too distracted to notice.

3. Late Dinners and Slow Eating Saved My Sanity

In the U.S., meals are basically fuel stops. If you’re not eating in ten minutes or less, you’re wasting time.

I used to inhale lunch at my desk while replying to emails I didn’t care about.

Then I moved to France. Dinner started late and ended later.

No TV. No multitasking.

Just food, conversation, maybe a glass of wine that didn’t come with a screw top.

At first, I twitched with impatience. But by week two, I was exhaling between bites. Chewing. Tasting. Sipping. Talking.

Not only did my digestion thank me, but my mind started syncing with the pace of the meal.

It was the first time eating ever felt like self-care, not survival.

Culture Check: Slow food slows everything, like your heart rate, your thoughts and your need to constantly be doing something.

4. Living Without Central Air and Learning to Breathe Again

I lived for years in buildings without central air in Georgia and Ukraine. At first, it felt like a punishment.

I missed the clinical chill of American HVAC systems.

But something changed. I got used to open windows and real breezes. My body learned to adapt instead of control.

Summer nights were filled with the hum of cicadas instead of the groan of compressors.

And oddly enough, I started sleeping better.

The rhythms of natural air made me more aware of seasons, daylight, and actual weather, not just what my thermostat told me.

I didn’t realize how numb climate control had made me until I had to live without it.

Here’s the Shift: When you stop controlling your environment, you start connecting with it.

5. Public Parks, No Screens, and Real Conversations

Walk through a park in Tbilisi or a square in Spain and count how many people are staring at phones. Go ahead. I’ll wait.

All right, it’s not many.

People are actually talking. Grandparents are playing with kids.

Couples are drinking coffee without documenting it.

No ring tones. No social media. No selfies. No scrolling.

Just chilling out, real presence.

The first few times I sat on a bench without my phone, I felt twitchy.

Like I’d forgotten a limb.

Then I started watching life again. I started making eye contact with actual humans… and not the creepy kind.

But somehow, my brain stopped feeling like a browser with 37 tabs open and finally started acting like it belonged to an actual human again.

Culture Check: Presence is a skill. You lose it fast, but you can get it back.

6. Why Saying Less Made Me Feel Heard More

Living in French and Russian-speaking places forced me to simplify everything I said.

I couldn’t ramble, over-explain, or throw in five disclaimers just to ask for coffee.

At first, it was frustrating. 

But something beautiful happened.

I learned to pause.

To pick words with intention.

In Ukraine, a simple “thank you” held more weight than a five-minute monologue back home.

The result? People actually listened. And I listened better too.

The constant noise in my own head.

The “trying” to be clever, agreeable, impressive, finally started to quiet.

Here’s the Shift: You don’t have to say more to be understood.

Sometimes less earns you more respect.

7. Letting Go of Hustle Culture for Good

In France and Georgia, I watched people treat rest like it mattered. Sundays weren’t for errands.

They were for family, food, and being horizontal on park grass.

Contrast that with the U.S., where we proudly brag about side hustles while we haven’t slept properly in three years.

I used to feel guilty doing nothing.

Now, I feel suspicious of anyone who can’t.

One of the best things I ever saw was a Georgian neighbor sipping tea for two straight hours while watching the sun move across the courtyard.

No agenda. No productivity hack.

Just time, owned and enjoyed.

Culture Check: If your worth is tied to what you produce, you’ll never feel valuable enough to stop.

How Foreign Habits Quieted My Anxiety and Changed My Life

I didn’t move abroad to fix my mental health. But somehow, it happened.

The silence in Kyiv, the slowness of a French meal, the stillness of a Tbilisi park bench, and the unapologetic laziness of a Sunday afternoon in Spain were never meant to be therapy.

But all of it helped.

Not with a bang, but with a whisper.

No dramatic breakthroughs.

Just tiny, repeated shifts in how I ate, moved, spoke, and breathed.

So if you’re feeling wired, tired, and emotionally fried, maybe you don’t need a self-help book or another overpriced app.

Maybe you just need a new cultural rhythm.

One that makes space for stillness.

Has another culture unexpectedly improved your mental health?