This is a brave piece. Inés dealt with her relocation to Washington DC in
all the right ways: staying active, accepting invitations, making new friends,
working on her own career. A year later she has returned to her home
country, separated from her husband. Don't judge her. Know that she
has already judged herself more than enough. Sometimes relationships
can't withstand the stress of moving. Each partner can adjust to their new home
and routines in such contrasting ways and rates that they could be adapting to
completely different places, alone. I feel like this is important to share, not as a cautionary tale, but as a testimony to Inés' strength, enduring friendships, and ability now to reflect on her experience and
grief, as well as a reminder of those things for those of us who are struggling with similar situations or have before.
Expat dream gone sour
A year ago I was making all the arrangements to have our belongings
shipped to Washington DC. My partner of 20 years and I were relocating there
where he was going to work for an international organization (IO). I quit my job and was really excited with the
idea of starting fresh in DC, a city where I would certainly be able to pursue
my professional interests.
We had been living abroad before, in Brussels, when we first started
living together. At that time we came back home because he couldn’t find a job
in Brussels, so I was not entirely new to the feeling of leaving a job and a
life I enjoyed to follow my husband and start all over again. I knew it would take me some time to get a
job in DC and I knew that the job market there was completely different from my
European references. Still I was
confident that everything would work out; I had the most important thing to
jump, a healthy relationship, a partner I could rely on through my transition
to this new life, a person whom I trusted and who loved me.
A year later I am back home waiting for my stuff to arrive from DC,
where he has stayed. We’ve been separated for 8 months already and I am just now
starting to get back on my feet. I am still grieving while I write these words,
but time has given me some perspective to realize that there were lots of
things that went wrong even before we left to DC.
Not once did it cross my mind that I would lose my sense of
self-identity in DC. I arrived to a country in which I was the spouse of Mr.
Garcia in a way I hadn’t experienced before. My visa, healthcare care insurance
and job permit depended on us being married and even to get my driving license
I needed him to file a specific application in my name. I knew I was privileged as a foreigner in the
US, but all these small things just contributed to increase the distance
between us.
He arrived to DC a couple of months before I did and had a hard time
adapting to his new job and his new life. When I arrived to DC he was already over
his transition period, enjoying his work, his new colleagues and friends. He
was thriving. In fact when I arrived he was not even there, he was
travelling. Heavy travel was part of his
job package and I knew it, so I was prepared to live with that.
I joined the spouses network - I can’t stress enough how much resources
this IO puts into integrating spouses and supporting them with all sort of
practical and psychological issues related to relocation - joined a sports
club, went out to meet people, explored the city, signed up to do voluntary
work in my neighborhood, and started my job search, again with the invaluable support
of the spouses network. All in all I
enjoyed my life there, but there were also lots of lonely days when my husband
was traveling and everyone else I knew was working or looking after their
children. I didn’t lose contact with my friends back in Spain, it was important
for me to keep up with their lives. So
while I was trying to adjust, I felt that my husband was far away, not
physically, but more so emotionally. I was unable to share with him his
happiness; he was having the time of his life, enjoying his work, the trips and
DC. I guess I was just envious and too busy trying to find my way in a fiercely
competitive job market.
We started having difficulties communicating and when he came back from
one of his trips I told him that I didn’t want to be a single-mom to his
children, those were my exact words. We
had been trying to have children for a long time and he felt I was betraying him.
He decided that I was not anymore the woman he wanted to be with. He needed
someone who could strive as a mother, a career woman and support his husband’s
international career. The following
months were a nightmare, I struggled to recognize my husband, his coldness that
seemed to come out of the blue, and didn’t recognize myself either, I had never
been a needy woman.
Over four months I felt as though a tsunami had crashed and then
receded, devastating our twenty-year relationship. We had innocently assumed
that it was strong enough to deal with the tensions that color the first months
of a couple’s life during an international relocation. We trusted in each other
and didn’t realize how little understanding we had of the emotional issues
involved in the decision we took.
I cannot change what happened now, but for those of you who are about to
jump for the first time I will strongly recommend that you do your research
first, reach out for support groups, prepare yourself for a bumpy period and
try to have an honest and open conversation (or two) with your husband before
relocating. Acknowledge that you are
taking a risk as a couple, and both of you will need to work hard, be flexible
and patient to succeed in your new life.
Next week I will turn 40 and will celebrate it with my family and
friends, most of them have had a hard time accepting that what seemed to be a
sure bet has destroyed us as a couple, but they have nonetheless been extremely
supportive and caring. I owe them a party and, to a large extent, my sanity.
