Living abroad is often romanticized. The thrill of discovering new places, building a new life, and embracing the unknown is appealing. But rarely do we talk about the emotional split that lingers—the part of you that’s constantly pulled between what was and what is.

The Emotional Split of an Expat Life

One of the daily struggles of living abroad is carrying this internal contradiction: a desire to thrive in your new life while occasionally longing for the comfort of the old one. It doesn’t always come in big, dramatic moments. Sometimes it’s subtle—like catching a familiar scent or hearing a certain song—and suddenly, you’re taken back to a different time, a different version of your life.

There are days when I feel blue or melancholy, and those nostalgic moments become almost unbearable. I’d find myself scrolling through old photos or talking to my husband about the “little things” we used to do. And those little things? They meant everything.

The Things I Miss from Our Old Life

There are pieces of our past that still live vividly in my memory—pieces that tug at my heart, especially during quiet moments. I miss:

• The warm gatherings with friends and coworkers at our home, where I’d prepare food, and we’d eat and talk for hours.
• Our spontaneous escapes to a favorite panadería or pizzería after a long workday.
• My little sanctuary: grocery shopping at the local mercado near our old place.
• The ease of driving to my sister’s house in Indonesia so my daughter could play with her cousins.
• The convenience of meeting my parents just to pamper them, to make up for all the time we’d missed before.

Even places hold memories—the restaurant where my daughter tried sopa de fideo for the first time, or the playground in Indonesia that became her favorite when she accompanied me on site visits. These are not just moments—they are pieces of our story.

If only I had Doraemon’s magic door, I’d use it in a heartbeat to revisit those places and feelings.

Balancing Nostalgia and Gratitude

Yes, I miss our old lifestyle. The food, the people, the comfort of familiarity. But life doesn’t allow us to have it all at once. We can’t carry everything with us—space, energy, and emotional bandwidth are limited. That’s just the reality.

Still, I’m deeply content with the life we’ve built in Spain. I wouldn’t trade it for anything else. Our journey has brought us here, and despite the occasional ache for the past, I know this chapter is worth embracing too.

Finding Comfort in Small Rituals

So what do I do when nostalgia kicks in?

I talk about it with my husband. I cook the food that brings me emotional comfort. And sometimes, like now, I write. I write these memories down in hopes they might resonate with someone out there—someone who might also be navigating the same gentle tug-of-war between where they’ve been and where they’re going.