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Mother’s Day is hard for me. My mum died 13 years ago. In difficult times I miss her care and encouragement. On happy days I just wish I could share my joy with her.

The beginning of May is always a little harder. And also beautiful. My kids steal lilac flowers from the street and whisper in the morning, getting ready to make me happy.

Loss is part of moving abroad too.

Alongside all the excitement and new experiences, leaving your roots and your family can sometimes be painful. Missing the simple things: the family rituals, the small celebrations, the chance to live the everyday moments together or the possibility of bringing a flower on Mother’s Day. 🪻

Yesterday I joined Judit’s women’s circle for mothers.

All of us brought a personal piece what we showed for each other and told the story why it is important for us. This helped to break the ice and find our place in the circle.

I brought a mala what gave me strenght when I felt lost in my life. I held it until the end. It gave me comfort and helped me to stay present while we were listening each other. It was so beautiful to connect and hear how others are doing in their motherhood right now.

One woman was worried about her grown-up sons. One was frustrated with her child and it hurt that she couldn’t connect with him the way she usually does. And I shared that I am struggling to be present with my kids, because my mind keeps wanting to solve something else, something that feels more useful, more important.

We pulled cards what helped to connect with our soul and voice. These beautiful drawings were the anchor of the moment.

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We couldn’t speak about motherhood without mentioning our relationship with our own mum. I was not the only one who lost their mum, and I was not the only one who missed her. Some had a good relationship with their mother. Some missed the warm, accepting and supportive connection they didn’t experience. All of us wanted to connect, and we shared both gratitude and difficult feelings too.

As many mothers as there were, there were as many worries. And in the end, even though we were not all there with the same difficulty, we saw each other. We connected. Some needed to finally say aloud what was heavy in their hearts. Others found their own feelings by listening.

And for many of us living far from home, motherhood carries another layer too.

Moving abroad means doing a lot of this alone. There is no family around the corner. No old friend who knows you well enough to say, you are doing fine. And when the culture around you feels different, the doubt comes easily. Am I doing this right? Is this enough? Am I enough?

If you miss the person who used to hold you steady, of course it shakes you sometimes. You don’t supposed to do it alone.

If you are far from home, lonely, and some days you are not sure you are doing this right, I see you. You are not alone. 💛

We would love to read your story and meet you where you are at this moment.

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Alexa is a coach for emotional expats who have lost their voice in a new country. She help you gently reconnect with who you are and build a life that feels like your own. At The Gentle Ground, she shares reflections and stories to help you feel seen and less alone. 💛

There are two sentences that shaped how I felt living abroad for a long time.

The first: “It’s easy for you over there.”

The second: “Yes, but at least…”

For eight years I believed that moving abroad was the easier path. That if I could do it, anyone could. Sure, it’s hard sometimes, but staying would have been harder. And besides, how lucky am I, right?

I got to leave when I wanted to. I get to live in a country I thought I dreamed of. Every month there is enough money. I have a sense of direction. and the laws are really protecting me. My children go to school happy. I feel my family safe.

And all of that is true, but there is another truth too.

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I am the one…

…who is not always there when her family needs her. And I am also the one whose family is not there when she needs them.

…who does not understand the system. The culture. The unspoken rules. The one who spends years slowly piecing together how the society around her actually works.

…who sometimes questions her own values, because others find them strange or pointless.

…who slowly, almost invisibly, loses her voice. Not overnight. But gradually stops saying what she feels. Because she has learned that it does not fit. That it is too much. That it is strange. And after a while she no longer knows what she actually feels.

…who feels anxious when she has to speak in a third language. Who gets things wrong at the first school events, again and again. Who wants to connect with people but is afraid of being misunderstood again. Who would love to be seen for who she truly is. But who withdraws more and more, because it has hurt too many times before.

Moving abroad is not the easier path. Not even if you chose it yourself. And how well someone adapts is not a simple equation. It is not about who is strong enough, smart enough, or good enough. I’m still struggeling to accept this too.

Some people seem to take every obstacle in their stride. They shake things off while listening a Taylor Swift song. Good for them, that is completely fine, but if you are like me, it is important that you know: that is completely fine too.

You are perfect as you are! I see you! 💛

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And then there is the other sentence.

“Yes, but at least…”

At least you are safe. At least you earn well. At least you are not living in that political situation. At least your children go to a good school. At least there is soap in the hospital. At least you have…

These sentences do not help.

What they do instead is place shame inside the other person.

Because having all of that does not mean I cannot feel anxious. It does not mean I cannot miss home. It does not mean I cannot feel alone.

Gratitude and pain do not cancel each other out. They can exist at the same time.

And if you feel things deeply. If you think a lot. If you are wired differently from the people around you, and you have spent years believing that was a flaw... then this post is especially for you.

Not to fix what is hard. But so you know: you are not alone. And there is nothing wrong with the way you are. Here at The Gentle Ground we would like to hear you and be there for you!

Alexa is a coach for emotional expats and holder of The Gentle Pages, a self-reflective book circle for women. She believes that hearing someone's story heals and connects two people at once. Just like books do. 💛