365 Days

It was 54° on a Monday, that time of day when the sun is starting to prepare for bed, when I flipped my phone over and saw an email with the subject line: “CIEE: Teach in Spain - Accepted!” If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve trusted my stomach that we’d gone upside down on a rollercoaster. Nothing else was going to get done that afternoon. I immediately FaceTimed my sister from my desk, and we couldn’t stop laughing. It was crazy, but it was real. I remember that moment like it was last night.

I wouldn’t say it out loud at the time, but I knew deep down that I’d be moving to Spain in eight months. It’s a feeling we’ve all experienced: being too scared to admit something because admitting it makes it real. Soon, I’d be tasked with shoving everything I owned into a U-Haul, shipping it from San Diego to my parents’ house in New Jersey, saying goodbye to all my friends and the life it took seven years to build, quitting my stable and well-paying job, and breaking up with a seemingly perfect boyfriend who had believed me when I said I was moving to Chicago, Illinois in 2025 - not Madrid, Spain.

I’ve mulled over how I made such a big decision many times over the past 365 days. When I think back to that version of me who was one year younger, sitting on the floor of my room later that night, I feel emotional. It was harder than I gave myself credit for. I had thought, "Maybe this will be like the part of every coming-of-age movie where the twenty-something girl moves to Paris and leaves her 'old life' behind." Turns out it's far less romantic in real life. 

What I’ve come to realize is that I knew I’d regret not going for the rest of my life. Moving abroad and teaching were separate aspirations I’d had for well over a decade, and this opportunity combined the two. It took many years of watching people on the internet move all over the world for me to finally say out loud to my sister, “Why can’t I do that?” I had been working a full-time job for over two years, and by the time I’d leave, it would be close to three. At last, I had admitted my dream, and I had enough savings to pull it off. The last box I had to check was “find the courage.” Logistically? It would work. Emotionally? I wasn’t so sure.

A lot of tears followed that day. They lasted for months. Each and every goodbye made me question my decision more, despite knowing this was the right thing to do the way we know the difference between night and day. A life I didn’t know yet was waiting for me, but it was going to take many peaks and valleys to get there.

My favorite part of this story is that I’m here now, writing it in Spain for you to read. It's been 12 months since that special day in my life, and four since I boarded the plane to move here. I haven’t regretted my decision once. All the worry, fear, and hesitation disappeared once I finally got here. That’s not to say there haven’t been hard days - there have been plenty. But I haven’t questioned whether I’m meant to be here, experiencing it all, for better or worse, even once. It might’ve taken a while to get to this point (around 365 days), but it’s clearer than ever that this is exactly what I'm meant to do, and this is undoubtedly who I’m meant to become.

When you lay your head on your pillow at night, where do you dream of living? What work do you picture yourself doing? Wherever it is and whatever it may be, I urge you to pursue it. I know it's easier said than done, but I have done it - and you can too. You will travel along many peaks and valleys, and you will look back often, but it’s very important that you keep going. Your other option is to live with regret for the rest of your life, and if you ask me? That sounds a lot worse than preparing for the journey ahead.