One of the strangest things about moving abroad is how quickly people interpret any acknowledgment of what the move cost—or just your normal human feelings—as evidence that you regret it.
I think this helps explain a certain defensiveness among people who write about moving abroad.
Even as I sat down to write this, I felt a twinge of discomfort. Simply because I’m sharing my thoughts and feelings as they exist from moment to moment. But we’re all so worried about what others think—how they’ll perceive us—that we don’t express what’s happening as it’s happening.
Moving to another country—or doing similarly big things in life—contains an incredible amount of emotional complexity. I’m sure retirement does as well, particularly if you left a job you’d been at for a long period of time. You’re happy you left and you sure as hell don’t want to go back, but as you navigate your new life, you grieve the one you lost—at least a little.
Right there—again—I hesitated a second to even write that part.
That said—and this isn’t a qualification or a walk back—I have zero desire to return to the United States. In fact, I literally can’t even imagine it. I could see myself living elsewhere in Europe—maybe even some place else in the world—but the US isn’t on the list.
After experiencing our well-designed and unabashed urban neighborhood here in Valencia, anything but the equivalent or better would be a letdown. While you might find fewer cars and more bikes in places like Paris, from a day-to-day flow, public life and public space standpoint, it doesn’t get much better than the core of Russafa.
Bottom line—we like to think we have it all figured out, even if we say we don’t. This is part of why true emotional complexity rarely enters the move abroad conversation. And it’s also part of why move abroad content tends to get stuck in the how to do this and that and five things I miss, love, or hate mode and never leaves, leading to a sea of all of the same content with little variation.
Most people would rather be number 1,045 in line to tell you how to get the digital nomad visa or among the thousands who say they can’t find ranch dressing only to be told repeatedly in the comments section exactly where they can find it than talk about the stuff that matters and might actually help prepare other people for their move.
Maybe “rather” is the wrong word, but that’s where the vast majority of content creators get stuck—in the safe spaces—because any complexity at least can feel like it gets converted into a verdict.
That’s the part I’m interested in.
If you’ve made a major change—or you’re contemplating one—and want writing that doesn’t flatten the experience into lifestyle porn, relocation logistics or easy answers, become a paid subscriber.
This is the work I want to keep doing.