The Decision: When Fear Becomes Fuel

People always ask if the decision to move abroad was scary. And yes, of course it was. But you know what was scarier? Staying.

My top priority became finding the quickest and smartest way to move all of us—me, my son, my partner, and ideally my brother and his six-year-old nephew—out of the United States. Not eventually. Not “someday when the timing is right.” Now.

What followed was an absolute whirlwind of research that consumed my life. I’m talking hundreds of hours of deep-diving into every possible variable, spreadsheet after spreadsheet comparing countries, visa types, acceptance rates, turnaround times. I became obsessed with finding the perfect fit for our family.

I researched safest countries for women and LGBTQ+ individuals (because my brother’s safety was non-negotiable). I looked into top international high schools for my son’s senior year (because his education mattered even in crisis mode). I studied countries with US tax agreements (because navigating two tax systems sounded like a special kind of hell). I searched for “US friendly” cities abroad where we wouldn’t feel completely alienated.

Every night I’d fall asleep with my laptop still open, tabs upon tabs of visa requirements and cost-of-living calculators and expat forums swimming through my dreams. My partner would find me at 2 AM comparing healthcare systems or school curricula, completely consumed by the mission.

And after weighing an insane amount of variables, after more pros and cons lists than I care to admit, we ultimately landed on the place we now call home: Barcelona, Spain!

The Reality Check: Culture Shock Comes in Small Packages

I was bracing myself for dramatic, slap-in-the-face culture shock. You know, the kind you see in movies where the protagonist has some big, cinematic breakdown in the middle of a plaza because everything is SO different and overwhelming.

That’s not what happened.

Instead, I’ve had countless meltdowns over smallish day-to-day things I wasn’t expecting. The kind of stuff that sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud but feels monumental when you’re living through it.

The Great Milk Incident

Why is the milk in Spain not refrigerated?! I stood in the grocery store aisle for a solid ten minutes, staring at shelf-stable milk boxes like they were alien artifacts. And when I finally tried it on my cereal? It tasted like wet wallpaper. I’m not being dramatic—that’s genuinely the best description I can give. My American brain could not compute that milk could exist outside of a refrigerator and still be safe to consume.

The Air Conditioning Conspiracy

Why doesn’t anyone have A/C in their businesses, homes, or cars DURING THE HEIGHT OF SUMMER?! I thought I was losing my mind. It was 95 degrees outside, I was melting into a puddle of sweat, and everyone around me seemed perfectly fine. Meanwhile, I’m googling “is it normal to sweat through three shirts a day” and “can you die from heat in Barcelona” at 3 AM.

The Laundry Dryer Mystery

Why do none of the apartments have laundry dryers when it takes (at minimum) 2-3 business days to air dry a single bath towel?! I’ve never appreciated American appliances more than when I was hanging wet clothes in my tiny Barcelona apartment, calculating how many outfits I’d need to own to account for the drying time. It’s like a math problem no one asked for.

The Bureaucratic Catch-22

And for the love of god, why do I need private health insurance before I can open a Spanish bank account, but I need a Spanish bank account before I can buy private health insurance?? MAKE IT MAKE SENSE! I felt like I was trapped in some kafkaesque nightmare where every door required a key from behind a different locked door. The frustration was real, folks.

The Shift: Learning to Slow Down and Actually Live

But here’s the thing about all those small frustrations—they forced me to slow down. And in slowing down, I discovered something unexpected: I actually like it here.

I’ve developed a massive respect and appreciation for the slower pace of Spanish culture. Back in the States, I was constantly rushing to the next productive task on my to-do list. My life was a never-ending cycle of do, achieve, accomplish, repeat. I was productive, sure, but was I actually living?

Spain has forced me to slow down and just be instead of constantly performing productivity. It has allowed me to prioritize connection with people around me rather than observe them from a distance while checking things off my list.

I arrived in Spain carrying a lot of fear, mainly about the unknown. The massive language barrier was particularly terrifying. I would get this overwhelming sense of dread just thinking about going to the grocery store because it made me feel extremely uneducated and ignorant. Here I was, a grown woman, and I couldn’t even ask where the bathroom was without Google Translate.

However, my perspective has entirely changed since we first arrived. I’ve learned that cultural and continental differences are a subtle yet steady force that connects all of us, no matter your background or place of origin. Yes, I might butcher the pronunciation of “gracias” and yes, I might accidentally use the wrong verb tense, but people here have been overwhelmingly kind. They appreciate the effort, even when the execution is rough.

Not to be dramatic (okay, I’m totally going to be dramatic), but moving to Spain has renewed my excitement for life. For the first time in years, I don’t wake up dreading the day.

Let me repeat that: For the first time in years, I don’t wake up dreading the day.

Of course, there are plenty of struggles and hardships for me and everyone else living here. The bureaucracy is real. The language barrier is real. The moments of loneliness and confusion are real. Yet somehow, my life feels far more enriched and vibrant than anywhere I’ve ever lived before. There’s a richness to the daily experience here—the way people linger over coffee, the way neighborhoods feel like communities, the way life happens at a pace that actually allows you to enjoy it.

The Advice: Get Brutally Honest With Yourself

If you’re considering relocating to another country, here’s what I wish someone had told me: Have a serious conversation with yourself about WHY you want to move abroad and how important those reasons are to YOU.

Notice I said to you—not to your family, not to your friends, not to what society thinks you should want. To you.

It’s important to be brutally honest with yourself because while this experience is very rewarding, there will be plenty of difficult days where the crushing weight of mental fatigue, self-doubt, imposter syndrome, and bureaucratic frustrations will decide to gang up and drive you right to the edge of insanity. And you have to be prepared to carry all of that, at any given time, 100% alone.

There will be days when you can’t figure out how to pay your electricity bill because the website is in Spanish and Google Translate is giving you nonsense. Days when you feel so isolated you could cry. Days when you question every single decision that led you to this moment. Days when booking a flight back home sounds like the most logical thing in the world.

Your “why” needs to be strong enough to carry you through those days.

Come to terms with all the good, bad, and ugly aspects before sharing your decision with the world, because—and this is important—naysayers, guilt-trippers, and planters of doubt will appear out of thin air the second you mention moving abroad.

People will tell you you’re being reckless. They’ll question your judgment. They’ll list every possible thing that could go wrong. They’ll make you feel guilty for wanting something different. And here’s the uncomfortable truth: most of the time, they’re projecting their own fears and insecurities onto your dream.

Discouraging your dream is a contagious insecurity. So just pop two ibuprofen and book the flight out of there anyway. 😉

The Moment That Made It All Real

My brother and six-year-old nephew moved out of the United States five months before we did. Five months might not sound like a long time, but when you’re separated from someone you love during a period of massive upheaval and uncertainty, it feels like forever.

Those five months were extremely scary and difficult for both of us in a multitude of ways. We were both navigating new countries, new systems, new lives—but separately. I worried about him constantly. Was he okay? Was his son adjusting? Did they feel safe? Were they regretting the decision?

But the day me, my son, and my partner finally landed in Spain, they were waiting for us on the curb of our new apartment.

I remember the visceral relief I felt the second I saw them standing there. It was like I could finally take a full, deep breath for the first time in eight months. All the tension I’d been carrying in my shoulders, all the worry that had been living in my chest like a stone—it released in that moment.

We stood on that Barcelona street, hugging and crying and laughing, and I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time: hope.

There are still many times we turn to each other out of nowhere and say, “Holy shit, we actually did it. We actually moved to Spain.”

And every time, it feels just as surreal and incredible as the first time.

What I’ve Learned: Fear Can Be a Catalyst

Moving to Spain wasn’t about running away—it was about running toward something better. Toward safety. Toward a life where I could breathe. Toward a future where my family could thrive instead of just survive.

Was it scary? Absolutely.

Was it hard? You have no idea.

Was it worth it? Every single frustrating, confusing, overwhelming moment.

I’ve learned that fear doesn’t have to paralyze you. Sometimes, fear can be the catalyst that pushes you toward the life you’re meant to live. Sometimes, the scariest decision is also the right one.

I’ve learned that home isn’t always where you started—sometimes it’s where you land. And sometimes you have to cross an ocean to find the peace you’ve been searching for.

I’ve learned that resilience isn’t about never struggling. It’s about struggling and choosing to keep going anyway. It’s about having a meltdown over shelf-stable milk and then laughing about it later. It’s about feeling completely lost in a grocery store but still showing up the next day to try again.

I’ve learned that taking care of yourself and your family isn’t selfish—it’s necessary. And sometimes that means making decisions that other people won’t understand. That’s okay. They don’t have to. This is your life, not theirs.

To Anyone Standing at the Edge of This Decision

If you’re reading this and you’re scared—good. That means what you’re considering matters to you. That means you’re taking it seriously.

But don’t let fear stop you. Let it fuel you.

You’re stronger than you think. Braver than you know. More capable than you give yourself credit for.

Yes, there will be hard days. Yes, you’ll question yourself. Yes, you’ll have moments where you wonder if you made a terrible mistake.

But there will also be moments of profound joy. Moments where you look around at your new life and think, “I built this. I did this.” Moments where you realize you’re not just surviving—you’re actually thriving.

The morning after that election, I woke up terrified. Now, I wake up grateful. Grateful for the courage it took to make this leap. Grateful for the life we’re building here. Grateful that fear didn’t win.

We’re here. We’re safe. We’re together.

And we actually moved to Spain.

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This is my story—from fear to freedom, from uncertainty to peace, from that terrifying morning to Barcelona mornings where I wake up excited for the day. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.