the commonplace chronicles—ep 1

Been talkin’ ‘bout the way things change

And my family lives in a different state

If you don’t know what to make of this

Then we will not relate

-Rivers and Roads, The Head and the Heart

September came and everything changed. The days suddenly felt shorter. The winds blew in rain and blew away the August heat wave. The light looked different. The lazy summer Mediterranean days and wild nights out were tucked away with the beach towels and umbrellas and replaced with a sense of urgency, a need to order our lives before the year’s end. Kids were back in school and a new chapter cracked open on fresh notebook paper and begged for fresh ink. 

September came, and I was heartbroken. Everything changed.

After two years of building a home on the beautiful island of Mallorca, two years of connecting and attending farewell parties, it was finally my time to leave. I had moved to Palma in 2022 as an English teaching assistant, a country girl fresh out of college who just wanted to see the world and an overachiever who didn’t know what to do next. I had a one-way ticket and a job, nowhere to live and no one I knew on the continent of Europe. In hindsight, I don’t really know how my twenty-two-year-old self had the guts to do it, but I’m grateful and proud of her leap into the unknown. When I landed, an ocean away from everyone and everything I had ever known, I was overwhelmed and exhausted. I even broke down crying in the hotel lobby.

Afterwards, hiding away in my hotel room humiliated, I wrote this in my journal: 

I will find my people. But I haven’t yet.

I will find a rhythm. But I haven’t yet.

I will learn to understand this city. But I haven’t yet.

It’s uncomfortable and awkward and hard, but it’ll work out and be less hard someday.

Before I know it, I’ll hate to leave here.  

What a prophecy! Because it was all true. Despite the waves of change that come from living on a transient island where everyone comes and goes, I truly found my rhythm. The very places I was walking around lost and confused my first days ended up being where some of my best memories were made. Most importantly, I did find my people. 

One year of being an English teaching assistant turned into two. Over the years, I grew a lot as an individual. I feel so much more capable, confident, open-minded, and accepting than I did when I first moved. After all, if you can handle Spanish bureaucracy, you can handle anything. Jokes aside, I grew so much personally that I don’t quite feel like the same person I was before. I’m more confident in my skin and who I am. I’m not as scared. Rather, I’ve learned to befriend the fear. If you don’t do things scared, you might never do anything. 

I decided to stay for two years in Mallorca because the first year wasn’t comfortable. It was a thrilling and exhausting whirlwind that constantly forced me out of my comfort zone. Every day was brand new. I hoped that by staying a second year, I could benefit from the fruits of my labor and just enjoy. And I did. The tall and twisty learning curve had shrunk into a small speed bump I hit only ever so often.

By the second year, the impossible had happened. I was comfortable and Mallorca was home. I cannot stress how completely and utterly comfortable I had become. You know how comfy your bed feels on a cold winter morning? (Especially in Spain where it’s always colder inside than out, except for in the summer) That was how comfortable I was. And it was perfect. Until that pesky desire for growth crept in. And when it starts to itch, you can’t ignore it. I grew so much in Mallorca, into the most confident, adaptable, resilient, adventurous version of myself. I’m not who I was before. But there came a point when the growth just trickled off. Where the comfort began, the growth ended. 

This is where the idea of grad school entered the chat. 

There were logistical reasons why Mallorca for a third year didn’t make sense—even though I did have the opportunity. I wanted to go back to school, but the UIB didn’t exactly offer the courses I was looking for. And if I didn’t want to be a teaching assistant again… no teaching assistant job and no master’s? No visa. And as much as I love island life, I needed the push of some sort of hustle culture to get myself moving on my dreams. Yet the most overwhelming factor was the desire to grow and continue to evolve and change. I was so comfortable that I had to leave. If I wanted to continue to grow, especially academically and professionally, I had to go.

The tricky bit is that I left people behind. I went to so many despedidas (farewell parties) during my two years in Mallorca. People come and people go, that’s the way it is. Being there for two whole years is a long time in Mallorca time. One thing I learned after goodbye after goodbye after goodbye is that the connections remain. One of my best friends only lived in Mallorca for three months. Connections, if they’re strong, stick. But my year two friend group is mostly there. This time, I was the one who left. 

Having been left and now being the one leaving, I can say definitively that it’s easier being the one who leaves. When you’re left, you notice the gap left behind by the person you love as everything else stays the same. Ghosts of memories you made with that friend haunt you everywhere. But when you leave, you’re the one moving forward to something new. Leaving, you actively build a new life and all the energy and excitement from that are distractions from the life and people you left behind. 

Yet for the exciting new chapter of starting a master’s in English Literature in Barcelona (yes, I am aware of the irony) ahead of me, I cried so much my last week. I was thrilled to go back to school, explore a new city, and grow again, but God, I was mourning the life I was leaving behind. I wept at a friend’s birthday party, at the same bar so many of my friendships formed and were solidified at. And then again at part two of that same friend’s birthday later that week where our friend group always played beach volleyball (sorry C). Surprisingly, I didn’t cry at my despedida. Instead I just felt overwhelmingly grateful for the wonderful people in my life. But the next morning, I sobbed for a solid hour before my flight. 

So here I am, in my new apartment, in a big city, they just dropped me off

cards, photos, notes, and mementos from lots of people I love

And now I’m writing from my new room, in a new city, little cards, photos, and mementos from my friends spread around me, “Rivers and Roads” and that one set of lyrics from “Never Grow Up” that went viral on TikTok playing in my head. I was in my new apartment in a big city that was colder than I thought it’d be. The sun-soaked summer days were gone, and gloomy autumn weather perfect for studying in coffee shops and libraries crept in. 

I am uncomfortable. But it’s what I wanted. One day, in perhaps a not-so-distant future, what was once uncomfortable shall be comfortable, and the cycle will continue on. I will find my Barcelona people, I will find a rhythm, I will learn to understand this city, and it will all be less hard one day. One day, I will be sad to leave this chapter for the next.