In 2023, after living in Spain for more than 24 years, I made the big decision to move back to the U.S. It wasn’t easy. It felt like placing everything I loved on a scale—on one side, my life in Spain, and on the other, my family and a new relationship waiting for me stateside. In the end, the scale gently tipped toward home.
Let me take you back for a second. I moved to Spain when I was 23—fresh out of college with two bags and a heart full of adventure. I had already visited twice and completely fallen for the rhythm of life there. The people, the food, the culture, the southern mountains and beaches—it all spoke to me. Over the years, I fully immersed myself in it. I learned the language, embraced the lifestyle, and made Spanish friends who became family. I hiked the mountains, swam in the sea, strolled those beautiful cobblestone streets, and proudly answered to “Carmen, la Americana,” even though I felt deeply, truly Spanish.
Leaving all of that behind? Not something I took lightly.
Coming back to the U.S. gave me a heavy dose of reverse culture shock. Suddenly, everything felt… off. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Everything—from how people interacted to the way daily life was structured—seemed unfamiliar. Suddenly I was driving everywhere and struggling to get more than a few thousand steps a day without circling my kitchen table (compared to the 20,000+ I used to rack up just living life in Spain). Grocery shopping shifted from fresh, local market runs to weekly trips for frozen fish and sticker-shock organic produce that cost more than my monthly rent in Spain. I searched for mountains… would have settled for hills but instead pounded paved paths… and ended up with plantar fasciitis.
Then came winter. Gray skies, icy sidewalks, freezing winds, and the kind of cold that gets into your bones. I was dragging. My energy was low, I missed the sun, and honestly? I started to doubt my decision.
Every morning I journaled, pouring out all the feelings I didn’t really want to say out loud. But I still missed Spain. I questioned whether I had made the right choice. I cried, alone, not quite ready to admit to others that I was struggling. A lot. Health-wise, things got weird, too—and without insurance, seeing a doctor cost a small fortune. . I suddenly realized how lucky I had been to have public healthcare for so many years. I felt a bit lost, frustrated, and became a little resentful of the excesses of daily American life—the giant cars, oversized houses, massive portions, and constant drive for more. That first winter felt endless.
Returning Home. Or was I already home?
In the Spring, I went back to Spain for a visit. The second I stepped off the plane, the warmth of the sun and the familiar rhythm of life wrapped around me like a hug. I reconnected with my people, my places, my mountains and sea. But as the days passed, I also began to notice the things that had quietly frustrated me before. At the same time, I found myself missing certain comforts from my U.S. life—and most of all, I missed my family.
That’s when I realized something important: my heart may always be divided between two places. And maybe that’s not a bad thing. In fact, I felt blessed to be able to call two places home.
The morning after I got back to the States, I did my usual routine: bed yoga, lemon water, meditation, coffee, journaling. I looked out the window and, for the first time in a while, I didn’t feel quite so heavy. In that moment I noticed how green and lush the grass was. I started to write about how nice it was to sleep in such a comfy bed. How grateful I was to see my nephews’ faces regularly and chat with my sister and mom in the same time zone. Small things, but real.
Each day, I kept going. Same routine. Same quiet morning moments. And slowly, the shift began. Gratitude started taking up more space than doubt.
The truth is, it’s easy to fall into the habit of focusing on what’s missing.I’d been stuck in a loop, obsessing over what I’d left behind—and I totally missed the beauty of what was right in front of me. Once I started paying attention, the perspective changed. The more I noticed the little blessings—my morning coffee, a good night’s sleep, a safe place to land—the more grounded and content I began to feel.
I saw that my life wasn’t over and my story didn’t end when I left Spain. It was just turning a new, exciting page, evolving into a new chapter, filled with opportunities, connection, and—surprisingly—a lot of joy.
Today,I invite you to try something simple: take a look around. Notice the small things. The warm mug in your hands, the way your pet curls up beside you, the scent of your favorite candle, the sunlight through the window—or even just the fact that you made it through the day. Name it. Appreciate it. Be Grateful for it. Let it bring you back to now.
I still smile when I notice something little that sparks joy—because it feels like a secret reminder from the universe that I’m right where I need to be, even if it’s not where I thought I’d end up.
So, tell me—what are you feeling grateful for today?