The question, “Was it worth it?” comes up a lot in conversations with new friends about moving to Spain.
Honestly?
Don’t ask me when I’m frustrated with yet another piece of bureaucracy I have to untangle or when it’s summer, and everyone in my house is home and on top of one another 24/7.
Because we sold nearly everything we owned, we’re a bit of a curiosity. Yes, we stored some things for a while, but ultimately, most of it was sold. The remaining items traveled back to Spain with us for safekeeping.
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Most U.S. families have a lot of stuff. It’s a reality that comes with living in larger homes with attached garages, sometimes detached garages, and—especially in rural areas—land. Maybe you don’t mean to accumulate as much as you do, but over time, before you know it, you have a house full of stuff. Nothing made that more apparent than clearing out my mom’s house after she died or our own home before our move.
My mom kept everything: old catalogues, every report card my siblings and I ever received, clothing from her teaching days, her grandparents’ glasses … This list could go on forever. Sorting that all out piece by piece was sheer torture.
Our homes are our castles.
Will and I dug so deeply into this process that I sold houseplants. Pyrex storage containers. Gave away beloved books. Donated holiday decor. Sold tools.
In a way, it was easy. I wanted to move to Spain so much that I barreled ahead, not really stopping to think about what I was doing. All I could think about was my why. I never grieved the loss of most of our belongings.
A suburban life also often leads to a bit of keeping up with the Joneses, whether it’s what you want or not.
“Did you see Chelsea’s new car? I love that.”
“James got one of those robot mowers. Did you see it?”
“They’re putting in an In-N-Out, and I heard the neighbors at the pool say it was great. Should we go?”
You get the idea.
It’s low-grade competition. Before you know it, you could be thousands of dollars in debt and resenting your new car payment every month. But hey, you have a great car that fits in with your neighbors!
It felt freeing to break free from the shackles of that life—a life that demanded much from us but offered little in return except the stress of maintaining it.
The problem is you often can’t completely escape this ingrained instinct.
I still feel these little pangs of ency sometimes. A good example in my case is travel. I’ve done my fair share, visiting several countries, living abroad now, and exploring all kinds of places in Spain. As a family, we take two or three trips a year—often to brand new places for all of us. And still, when someone pops up in my Facebook or Instagram feed with a vacation that wasn’t on my radar but should be, there it is. That little twinge of, “I wish I was there.”
The restlessness still bubbles beneath the surface—just less prominently.
This couple asked the same question we're asking. Was it worth it? Their answer has a different perspective than mine, but the conversation winds up in almost exactly the same place.
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