Ever fancied quitting your job and hauling ass to another country? Writer Amy Swales did – abandoning London for 13 months in Beijing – discovering both unexpected benefits and underestimated downsides

Before my relocation from London to China last year, amid the organising and leaving parties, I privately acknowledged a few doubts about packing up and shipping off. Notable freak-outs included, but were not restricted to: potentially negatively affecting my career; boxing up the flat; Mandarin: massive, debilitating FOMO, and the nagging thought that all my friends would forget who I was.

Lying in bed in my new Beijing flat a couple of weeks later, the stress of moving over, I tried again to find the elation I had at this adventure’s conception. This was exciting, remember? Instead, I tried to breathe calmly through a cold and panicky dread that I’d just made a terrible mistake.

The idea of a major life change - moving countries, finding a new career, even simply a sabbatical - is a rose-tinted one, a fantasy of sweeping your desk of its contents, shouting ‘Goodbye suckers!’ as you saunter toward the door, toward a new start, probably wearing sunglasses.

But, at 31, I didn’t hate my job and wasn’t stuck in a rut. In fact, I’d just been promoted again at the magazine I’d been with for four years and my China move was something a few people - including myself at times - just couldn’t understand. Trust me, if I’d disliked my life, it would have been easier to leave it behind.

Is the best thing about dropping everything coming back home?