Who knew that moving to another country would solve all my (boy) problems?
Well, not all of them. Actually, none of them, really. But it did give me a different perspective on how to deal with them.
After a series of rough patches at the end of 2022 and the beginning of this year, getting out of a rather toxic environment and moving to sunny Spain for my studies was the best decision I could’ve ever made for my mental as well as physical well-being.
That doesn’t mean I didn’t struggle over the past two months – the opposite actually. Moving to a country – as an introvert, mind you – where I didn’t know anyone and also didn’t speak the language, scared the shit out of me. On top of that, almost everything that could’ve gone wrong went wrong: I had to move apartments and in consequence, lost quite a bit of money, I completely underestimated the language barrier, almost committed tax fraud without knowing it and the guy I was dating before I got here revealed his true colors soon after my arrival.
But let’s rewind and start at the beginning.
I’ve been talking about moving abroad for as long as I can remember. I couldn’t help it – I’ve always had this longing for so much more: another place, another lifestyle, different people … and I always had this feeling of certainty that it would be in the cards for me. It was almost inevitable to happen.
So, for the past few years, this is what I’ve been working towards. And not to toot my own horn, but I did work my fucking ass off – pulling all nighters, working multiple jobs and taking double shifts while also maintaining good grades, a consistent workout schedule and a social life.
And let me tell you: it’s been a hell of a ride.
So, I left. And although I had been planning this for months, it still felt extremely spontaneous for me to get on that plane. Even now that I'm here, I sometimes can’t believe that this is real and actually happening.
I’m not one to get homesick. And in all honesty, I don’t miss home at all (except for my big, comfy bed). Soon after I arrived in Spain, I came to the realization that there wasn’t much I had left behind – as harsh as that might sound to some of you. I had gotten to a point where I felt so stuck – in all areas of my life – and none of what I was doing was helping me move forward.
A drastic change of scenery was the only thing left to try (or cutting off my hair and dying it red, but I’m glad I didn’t go with option B).
But in some moments I do wish I could share some of the experiences I’m making here with my loved ones from home (you know who you are and if you want to visit, my door is always open). The geographical distance made me think about, evaluate and appreciate my relationships more and I must say that it’s true: there really is something (painfully) beautiful about leaving the people you love and care about behind in the pursuit of the unknown because the heart truly does grow fonder with distance – or in some cases: it shows you someone’s true intentions.
Which brings me to the part about that stupid Scorpio Boy.
I should’ve added „who couldn’t keep it in his pants“ to the title but there’s a slight chance he might find this blog and an even higher chance he'll figure out it’s him I’m talking about. If so, I just quickly want to make it very clear that I’m not doing this out of spite or to be petty just for the sake of it.
I’m sure he must have somewhat of a logical explanation for his actions and I’m past the point of holding a grudge. The only reason he's relevant to the storyline is because of the learnings I drew from this.
Now that that’s out of the way, let’s begin, shall we?
I came to Spain knowing who I was and what I wanted. And at the time, that was a 26-year-old Scorpio Boy with daddy issues (I seem to have a type?) I had been seeing for a bit. I must admit: I really liked him, was maybe even crushing a little too hard – but what would you do if he brought you flowers and talked about his feelings and the future in a way where you could see yourself in it? Even promises were made to come visit me abroad.
And on top of all of that, he was a Scorpio (they're my supposed soulmates or whatever) and I cannot resist the charm of this zodiac sign.
Another fun fact about me: once I like someone and see something special in them, I don’t get distracted easily. So, I came here, fully prepared to not give in to temptations. Although commitment was never promised, I didn’t want to put myself in a position where I’d feel like I let him down and would potentially risk whatever we could’ve become. I knew from past experiences that I didn’t want to be that kind of person; nor needed to be, for that matter because whatever thrilling but fleeting thing I could’ve had with someone here in Spain, (in my eyes) wouldn’t have replaced what I had with him.
Now, looking back and knowing how things ended, do I regret romanticizing the whole thing?
Even tho I crashed and burned, the answer is: absolutely not. I’m usually very rational about my decision making and I try to keep my emotions out of it completely. But this time, I chose to romanticize it as much as I could, to not overthink things and instead, just do whatever feels right.
And I’m so glad I did because for once, I enjoyed dating and – believe me – that doesn’t happen to me often.
In fact, it never has.
So, what did I learn from this entire experience?
First off: I feel like we live in a generation where it’s almost embarrassing to „put all your eggs in one basket“, only to find out it won’t work out. It’s not. You live and you learn and eventually, you’ll be able to read the signs when someone is only entertaining you on the side while sleeping with the married co-worker while also trying to pursue their best friend’s girlfriend (who is also your friend) as soon as you’re physically out of reach for them.
I honestly can’t decide what I find morally more appalling about this, but I do know for certain that I never want to compromise my own morals and values for someone like that just to be with them – whatever the relationship with this person might look like – nor will I ever lower my standards for someone who wanted me first. And I’m happy to inform you that I did neither.
Secondly, if things had worked out with said Mr. Scorpio Boy, I wouldn’t have met the people I'm now lucky enough to call my friends. At some point, I’ll probably dedicate a whole blog post solely to them (because they deserve it), but to keep things short and sweet for now: they’re an absolutely fun-but-chaotic and out-of-their-mind-kinda-crazy bunch (Italians, Spaniards and Latinos are just built different, iykyk) and I love them for it. With each interaction we have, I’m amazed at their energy and natural charm and warmth and how easy it is for me to get along with them. Again, as an introvert, I neither like people nor going out por la noche. I prefer being in bed by nine like the abuelita I am instead of coming home at nine a.m. on a random Thursday. But when doing Erasmus in Spain, that lifestyle is a huge part of the experience and I would’ve missed out on all of it, if I had let that Scorpio Boy hold me back.
Also, I wouldn’t have met this really cute Argentinian guy and I probably would have never found the guts to start this blog – or rather, wouldn’t have had the inspiration for my first piece because what could I have written about then? How happy I was with Mr. Not-So-Stupid Scorpio Boy? How much I missed him and how much long-distance sucks? Who would’ve read that?
Living here has come with many challenges – no doubt – and from time to time, I still catch myself wondering “what if?”
What if I had stayed home? What if I had made smarter choices? Would things have turned out differently? Would I still be seeing him if we weren't separated by almost 2,000 km? Would I be happier or more fulfilled then?
But I always end up with the same conclusion: it doesn’t matter.
I am currently very happy and content with where I'm at and there’s no need for me to wonder if the grass might have been greener somewhere else. And more importantly, I am at peace. I still know who I am, what I want and where I see myself headed and no apartment disaster, no language barrier and especially no boy will be able to shake that feeling of certainty.
Believe me when I say I’ve been to some pretty dark places mentally, but what I am now starting to understand is that everything does have a way of working itself out – poco a poco. Sometimes it takes a bit longer to realize, but the universe, God or whoever is responsible for this circus seems to have plan and in that I trust.
I was a depressed wreck of a human and felt like throwing the towel after the first hick-up two days after getting off that plane. But after a good crying session and some therapeutic FaceTime calls, I picked myself up again and here I am, five more hick-ups later.
There’s so much more to come, topics to be talked about, tea to be spilled and lessons to be learned and I’m excited to see where this little project of mine is headed. Until next time …
… with love, always
xx kristina
this blog post captured in a song:
“2” by H.E.R.
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