Who are you when the old labels don’t apply anymore? When the business cards are obsolete, the social circle is a digital echo, and the daily rhythm you conducted for decades is silenced?
It’s a scary thought. To many, it seems daring. To a few, an inspiration. And to a whole lot more, it looks like pure insanity. Uprooting yourself at 50, especially from a life of comfort and luxury. With established circles, a solid support system, a functional work/life balance, and somewhat settled kids. It sure feels like a paradox. Who chooses chaos on purpose? Who packs their life into four suitcases and moves to a country they’ve never visited, to speak a language they don’t know, and build a living they are completely unaccustomed to? And who, in their right mind, drags their teenagers along for the ride? Me!!
I shared earlier how the ghosts of my former self keep haunting me. The planner, the organizer, the controller. That version of me would have crumbled in the face of such uncertainty. She would have cried in a hiding place, that itself is a difficult task in a 70 SQM apartment, or talked to herself during long, frantic walks. Which I did. I gave her the space to vent her fears and inhibitios.
But there was the unexpected beauty of it all. I was no longer solely defined by her. The old labels had expired. Educationist. Recluse. The Planner. They were tags for a life I had consciously left behind. My support system is now digital, my friends and family are the pixels on a screen. my job ended beautifully with 20 years of training and development just a month before I left. So, the fundamental question remained: Who was I now?
I decided to keep one core trait close to my heart: I am a dreamer.
I dreamt of a safer, freer world for myself and my children. The biggest, most daunting part of that dream was the actual move. And we had done it. Once we snapped out of the initial surreal shock, the go-getter part of me, adjusted the sails, tightened my safety gear, and whispered, Okay, here we go.
But this time, I am the one defining the destination. I am consciously walking away from many things I was known for. I am letting go of the rigid planner who hated surprises. I am quieting the recluse who avoided new people. In their place, I am exploring a more enterprising spirit, working on novel ideas, and throwing myself at every opportunity to meet locals and fellow expats. I am waking up without a plan, allowing the day to decide its own rhythm. I am learning to shift gears without grinding the clutch of my old anxieties.
And for the first time, perhaps in my entire life, I am no longer consumed by the question, what if I fail? What if I fail at making this new life work? What if I fail at being a better parent here? What if I fail to support Esam in this monumental decision we made together?
The truth is, I’ve spent a lifetime worrying. A lifetime carrying the weight of every potential outcome. That was the old identity, forged in a need for control and predictability.
Now, it’s time for a new one. It’s time to just live. To be present in this messy, beautiful, chaotic, and liberating experiment of starting over. The canvas is blank, and for the first time, I am not afraid of the colors I might choose.
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