I currently live in a peaceful little town not too far from Barcelona. It’s quiet, warm, and the kind of place where the lady from panadería remembers your order and neighbors say hello. Sometimes, I chat with the locals, and some of them tell me they’ve lived here their entire lives.

And every time I hear that, a strange mix of curiosity and a tiny bit of jealousy hits me. What does it feel like to grow up, grow old, and stay rooted in one place?

That’s not my story.

A Life of Constant Change

I’m not a third culture kid, but I haven’t lived in my hometown since I was 15. I left for school, then work, and eventually crossed continents for higher education in Europe. Every place I lived demanded more independence and, in doing so, shaped me into someone I never expected to become.

My first year abroad? Brutal.

I was painfully shy, too scared to ask for help, and ended up fumbling through life on my own. I failed half my subjects. I wasn’t ready for the cold weather, surviving on potatoes and frozen nuggets because that’s all I could afford. I arrived with just one pair of sneakers, which disintegrated as winter set in. I vividly remember walking through cold, rainy streets with wet socks and numb feet, wondering if I’d made a terrible mistake.

To make it worse, my partial scholarship only covered one semester—barely enough to survive. By the end of those first few months, I was mentally and financially drained. For the first time in my life, giving up felt like a real option.

But a friend made me promise: try again. Retake the exams. Give it one more shot. And if I still failed, no one would blame me.

So I did. I studied harder than I ever had. And then, out of nowhere, a miracle: a student dropped out, and I was granted the remainder of their scholarship. It was just enough to carry me through the full two years.

Rewriting My Identity

Returning to Indonesia after graduation, I was not the same girl who had cried herself to sleep in a freezing apartment. I came back home stronger, louder, and clearer about my worth. I had survived something that almost broke me.

And with that new self, I made another bold choice: I married a Mexican and moved across the globe—again.

Mexico welcomed me with open arms and taught me a new language, a new rhythm of life, and a new understanding of family. I became a wife and a mom there, building routines, memories, and a version of life I deeply loved.

Once again, I changed. And once again, life asked me to move.

Culture Shock at Home

When we moved back to Indonesia, I thought it would be easy. It was my country. I spoke the language. I knew the culture—right?

But it wasn’t.

Nothing about my way of life or work mindset seemed to fit anymore. I pushed myself until burnout hit, and eventually, I found myself sitting in a psychologist’s office. After listening carefully, she asked:

“Are you experiencing culture shock in your own country?”

I hadn’t considered that. But yes, that’s exactly what it was. I’d evolved beyond the rhythms of my old environment. And while I could’ve stopped working or slowed down, I knew the balance I needed didn’t exist there.

That season back home turned into a period of painful but necessary reflection. And just when I began to understand what I was truly looking for, Spain came into the picture.

A New Chapter in Spain

Moving to Spain felt like an answer to a question I had carried silently for years. We came searching for balance—something we had longed for in every previous chapter.

Eight months in, I can say: we’ve found it.

Of course, it wasn’t all easy. I had to learn to slow down. At first, I was frustrated by how relaxed everything seemed. People took their time; things didn’t move with the urgency I was used to. But slowly, I began to understand: this was my lesson.

I had spent most of my life in survival mode—rushing, striving, pushing. But now, I am learning to just be. To breathe. To wait. To trust.

Embracing Who I’ve Become

I still wonder what it must feel like to live your entire life in the same neighborhood. It must be comforting in ways I can’t imagine. But deep down, I know I was never meant to stay still.

I am not who I used to be—and honestly, I don’t want to be.

Moving abroad feels, in many ways, like breaking up with your old self. It’s painful. It’s lonely. But it’s also the most transformative gift you’ll ever receive. Because in every new place, you meet a new version of yourself—stronger, softer, wiser.

And each version brings you a little closer to home.