As some may already know, we are moving from our home in Madrid to somewhere in north New Jersey to accommodate my new job. We had a feeling this day was coming, but we didn't know when and we didn't know where we'd end up moving to. Despite knowing that there could be a move in the future, we did our best to build an awesome life here in Spain and forget about the fact that it may or may not last indefinitely. We were only supposed to live in Spain for two years (it's been seven) and the longer we stayed here the more ingrained we became in the culture and our social circles. We are not Spanish, but Spain is our home.

This is not the first time we will pack everything up and embark to a different country. The previous moves were never fun (quite the opposite actually), but by now we fully understand the process, and we know the process is HARD. Conceptually, I think most people understand the bureaucracy and logistics of starting a new job and moving countries is very challenging. But what I have a hard time articulating to those around me is the sense of mourning that is involved.

Mourning? Allow me to explain...

When I tell non-expats that we are moving to the U.S., the reaction I receive is generally positive and a combination of:

that's good, right? The thing that is keeping you from your home is finally over.
that'll be easy to move back to your home country since you know how it works and can speak the language.

The process of moving is overwhelming in its volume of tasks that pile up in a short time, and its complicated web of dependencies and governmental rules. But the process is not the worst part. The true challenge of moving to another country (or anywhere far from home) is the intentional dismantling of the life you've worked so hard to build for yourself and your family.

When moving to a new place, you start with nothing. A job, if you're lucky (and sometimes not even that). Everything is alien. You're insecure and non-functional. You have no support system close by and foreignness can be overwhelming. Even now, after seven years in Spain, I feel stupid and am humbled at my ignorance daily.

However, slowly over time you learn the system, you learn how to navigate the complexity, you gain confidence, you meet people, you develop meaningful friendships, you join activities and social events, and you take on causes that you care about. You slowly but surely upgrade your life, one bit at a time. You transition from surviving to truly living.

When you learn that you're moving away, the reverse process begins. You start dismantling the very things that you worked so hard to create. Possessions are sold and given away. Responsibilities and obligations are stopped, delegated or quietly discarded. Relationships that you've cultivated for years enter a strange twilight zone where they are not yet gone, but neither do they grow deeper; both parties acknowledge the impending change but neither really accepts it. You become irrelevant within your social ecosystem and you are forced to acknowledge that life goes on and people will develop new adventures and relationships that don't involve you. You are forced to acknowledge it because you see it happening in your final weeks and months. You are quickly dismantling all that you know to accommodate an arbitrary exit date. Sort of a mad dash to the literal and figurative exit.

During the first stressful weeks after our decision to leave Spain, I originally thought the flood of feelings were caused by the overwhelm of the process and the sense of unknown about what the future will look like, and the risk were taking. But now I’ve come to realize that a huge part of the terrible feeling that our transition is imparting on us is the fact that we are watching our life as we know it being dismantled before our eyes. In fact, we are taking an active part in that destruction. And it's sad and we are grieving it.

When you leave your home country to move abroad, it's challenging but there is an implicit assumption that you will come back. The idea that you'll return makes all the "goodbyes" feel more like "see you laters". It's a trick of the mind but it's an effective coping mechanism. When you leave a place that is not your home country, there is an implicit assumption that you will not return. Whatever thing that was tethering you to that host country is now gone and there is no reason to believe you will return. That feeling makes the "goodbyes" seem very final and ultimately more difficult to process.

Will we return to Spain? Honestly, I have no idea. I do know we will miss our life and our friends here in Spain, terribly. I feel confident we are supposed to be in New Jersey for the next season of our life, but that doesn't mean it's going to be a fun process.

New Jersey seems like a nice place, but it is not our home. It is nothing to us. Or, at least it's nothing to us right now. Check back in in seven years and I'll let you know.