The pause between places

Letting go of the pressure to have life, motherhood, and home all figured out.

This isn’t the post I expected to write.

I had intended to share about my (incredible) trip to Spain last month. The magnetic energy of the country, the pull towards Barcelona and the jacarandas, the way that it reminds me of Mexico City (in the best of ways). The idea that maybe, just maybe, we have a new place to call home on the horizon. Finally.

And yet…

After dozens of flights across multiple countries, long and short-term leases, online and offline research, deep discussions, therapy sessions, and trial and error, I have made another decision.

I’m hitting pause on the home search.

At least for now.

(Insert audible sigh of relief!)

I started this Substack last year while temporarily based with my parents in San Diego. The idea was to help me sort my thoughts and share as I navigate through multiple transitions, figuring out where to call home being one of them. I remember running through a list of options in my head: back to Mexico, back to Italy, somewhere new like Monaco or Spain…

Where did I want to live? How did I want to raise my daughter? What made sense from a visa perspective? Financial-wise? Family-wise? Community-wise? Education-wise?

My daughter exploring mountain trails in Italy

And while I’ve loved researching, exploring, traveling, and sharing what I’ve experienced and learned, what I haven’t loved is the pressure.

The pressure to pick one (just one!) place to live indefinitely.
The pressure for my life to look a certain way, especially as a mom.
The pressure to choose the “right” education system.
The pressure to pick a culture to raise my daughter in.
The pressure to have this coparenting thing figured out.
The pressure to have it ALL figured out and fast. We aren’t getting any younger over here!

This is mostly pressure I’ve put on myself, of course, which is rooted in something much deeper.

My life hasn’t looked (or felt) traditional in years.

I’ve spent the last decade making peace with my divorce and decision to leave “the American dream” behind. I’m still making sense of my single mom and coparenting status. I’m actively working to rewire my conditioning, including all the “shoulds” that sneak in when I’m not paying attention. (I “should” be living more independently now, right?) I haven’t even been writing because I can feel myself censoring my thoughts before they’re even on the screen, for them to fit a certain made-up narrative and for everything to “make sense”.

Now? I feel called to hit pause and allow myself to just be. I can’t remember the last time I gave myself (and my racing, overthinking mind) that privilege. Can you?

Cheesy polenta with lentils and local wine

I came to this realization while staying in the mountain town of Champoluc, my favorite place in Italy after Rome. There, my nervous system was more relaxed than it had been in a long time, and the sense of peace that washed over me felt like pure bliss.

Welcome to the present moment, I thought. Let’s stay here for a while.

We had already planned to be in the mountains for a couple of months this summer, when the weather is perfect, the trails are tended to, the playgrounds full, and the best gelaterias are open. We also have a family home here, so there are times when we get to stay rent-free and I am incredibly grateful for that.

Another picturesque mountain restaurant complete with a playground and horses

During low season, however, things look dramatically different. The weather takes a turn, the tourists pack up and go, and most restaurants close down. (Goodbye, dear pistachio gelato.)

With this in mind, I had our next step laid out: a two-month trial this fall back at our favorite spots in Spain. After a successful trip there in June, I was VERY excited to get back!

While searching for short-term rentals, tapping into my network, and joining all the Spain expat housing groups, I received some news: a project I had been working on would not be continuing, and my beloved long-term, part-time coaching job would potentially be coming to an end soon, too.

I sat with the plot twist.

While I wasn’t entirely surprised, it did ask me to realign my choices with my new reality. Instead of using savings to pay for overpriced, short-term rentals (the housing crisis in Spain is real), why not just…stay put for a moment?

I don’t need to have one specific home base. I don’t even need to know where home is right now. Outside of societal norms (and tax purposes), who says I do?

This may not make sense to my Type A readers who always need a plan, or friends with kids who crave more stability, but it makes sense to me. And today I’m here to remind myself – and you – that this is all that matters.

Instead of stressing out every single day about what my unconventional life looks like and contemplating how to change it, what if I gave myself more time and space to sit with the discomfort of not having it all “figured out”?

What if I allowed that to be OK?

Where I live and raise my daughter doesn’t have to be an all-or-nothing decision. Home can be simply where I am, where we are, right now.

And a “real” home? Something more long-term and stable? Something that’s entirely mine? I’m a firm believer that what’s meant for us won’t pass us by.

While I would love to be in one spot so my daughter can start preschool and I can give her a beautiful room of her own, a more permanent location, along with the logistics to support it, will appear on the path all in good time.

Until then, you can find us in the mountains…or elsewhere.