I’ve spent most of my adult life living between two worlds.
I was born and raised in Aberdeen, Scotland. It’s where my parents and family are, where my memories live, where my sense of self was formed. The U.S. is where my adult life is—my home, my family, my work, and the business I’ve poured my heart into building.
People often say I’m “lucky” to have two places. And in many ways, I am. But what’s rarely spoken about is how emotionally demanding it is to bridge them.
Every trip back to Scotland carries weight. Leaving my parents—now in their mid-80s—never gets easier. Each goodbye feels heavier than the last, and that grief doesn’t stay neatly contained on the runway. I carry it with me across the Atlantic.
When I return to the U.S., life expects me to re-enter immediately. To be present. To be capable. To keep moving. But emotionally, I’m still in transit. My nervous system hasn’t landed yet.
That’s the reality of living between two worlds.
You’re constantly switching roles—daughter in one place, carer and provider in another. You’re translating yourself, your emotions, your identity, over and over again. It takes energy people don’t see, and when that energy runs out, it can show up as overwhelm, irritability, or withdrawal.
It isn’t about one small thing.
It’s about carrying too much for too long.
FLYKUP was born from this in-between space.
I created it as a way to stay connected to Scotland while living far from it—to honour craftsmanship, culture, humour, and meaning that feel deeply familiar to me. The pieces we sell aren’t just products. They are anchors. Tangible reminders of home, identity, and belonging.
Handmade objects move at a human pace. They hold time, care, and intention—things that matter when your life is stretched across continents.
This note is a reminder, to myself as much as anyone else: bridging two worlds requires gentleness. Returning doesn’t mean you’ve arrived. Sometimes you need space to land.
FLYKUP exists because I live between places.
And because I believe there’s value in holding both—without rushing, without hardening, and without letting go of where you come from.
— Louise
Founder, FLYKUP
Navigation
Information
