An open letter from an anonymous expat partner to anyone who wonders what they do all day after stepping away from their career and relocating to another country.
Here’s what I do
I wake up and begin solving problems. I locate lost shoes and reassure a tearful child that everything will be okay in class today. After the school run, I return to an empty kitchen and list the minor matters that need attention: why the WiFi is so slow, which app we need for school or bills, where I have to go to register for whatever it is I now need to register for. I open my laptop, sift through emails, fill in school forms, then head out in search of groceries, navigating labels I still don’t fully understand (for the record, my spaghetti carbonara made with almond cream almost worked).
What it looks like
For now, I don’t have a job – and you find that mystifying. Didn’t I love my career? Wasn’t I a dynamic employee for over a decade? And now, you think, all I do is ‘kill time’ until the kids get home. Perhaps you picture me lounging by the pool, flicking through a crime thriller, or sipping wine at a leisurely lunch. From the outside, my life looks bereft of purpose. From the inside, it’s anything but – a reminder that the real mystery in life may be how others perceive us.
What you don’t see
What you – and others – don’t see is the mental load I’m carrying, and what I’ve already overcome: the self-doubt, the isolation, the uncertainty; the strain of building a life from scratch while supporting someone else’s career. “Must be nice to have so much free time,” someone says. Or, “Have you thought about doing something?” Yes, I have. But like many expat partners also discovered, I realised I wasn’t in a position to work full-time – at least not yet.
Here’s the truth
Perhaps that will change. Perhaps one day, when the dust settles, I’ll be ready to build on this foundation. Maybe I’ll study, work, volunteer, or take a path I haven’t yet visualised. But until then, I am doing something all day. I’m adapting. I’m holding things together. I’m learning who I am when everything familiar has been stripped away. A seed has been planted. The growth is quiet, underground, but it’s there. And I’m proud to be tending it.
