I lived in the UK for twelve years. A flat full of things I'd built a whole identity around, a lease that renewed itself whether I was happy or not, a version of stability that slowly became a cage.
It wasn't the job or the weather that kept me there. It was the sheer logistical weight of everything I owned — the idea that leaving meant losing all of it, so I never seriously considered leaving at all.
So I sold it. Gave away what wouldn't sell. And found out that almost everyone who feels "stuck" is stuck for the same reason: not a lack of money, but a location that was steadily draining it, and a life built around possessions that were supposed to feel like security and instead felt like weight.