New Moon Coaching for Expat Women

Every May, as I begin preparing for my yearly return to Italy, I find myself caught in a familiar, frantic dance of closure and anticipation.

Right now, my days are governed by a mounting sense of urgency. Before I can step onto that plane, every thread of my Colorado life must be neatly tied off. There is a relentless checklist that hums in the back of my mind:

• The Garden & House: Who will mow the lawn? Who will ensure the plants I’ve nurtured through the spring don’t succumb to the high-altitude sun? Organizing the care for my home feels like preparing a ship for a long voyage without its captain.
• The Professional Wrap-Up: There is a rush to finalize my coaching business goals and ensure my practice is packed and ready to travel with me, so the bridge between my two worlds stays strong.
• The Social Fade: Even friendships feel the shift. I start saying my “see you in the fall” while others are planning camping trips together.

The Vacation/Non-Vacation

Every June, when I finally arrive in Italy, the transition is profound. It is a vacation in the sense that the scenery has changed, but it is a “non-vacation” in reality. It is a deep immersion back into family, old friends, and the responsibilities of the life I left behind. While there is immense beauty and joy in spending these months in Europe, the duality is heavy.

This annual interruption has a cost. Historically, this “life on hold” pattern has been emotionally draining and stressful. In the past, it has even made maintaining steady employment difficult—it is hard to find an employer who agrees to a semi-nomadic lifestyle.

The Autumn Reset

Perhaps the strangest part of this cycle is the sensation of starting over. When I return to Colorado in the fall I often feel like I am waking up from a long, vivid dream.

Projects that were urgent in May feel distant in September. Relationships require a re-entry period. I have to find my footing all over again, reclaiming the space I vacated months prior.

This is the expat’s paradox: the privilege of belonging to two places often means holding together opposite feelings: discomfort, suspension, excitement, anticipation.

The Weight of a Dual Life

There is an undeniable complexity in belonging to two places. To have a “home” that requires a transatlantic flight is to live in a state of permanent longing; when I am in Colorado, I miss the familiar rhythms of Italy, and when I am in Italy, I feel the pull of the life I’ve built in the Mountain West.

Yet, I am constantly reminded that this struggle is born out of a profound privilege.

Spending summers in Europe, surrounded by the deep roots of family and the familiar voices of old friends, is a luxury of the soul. It is a chance to breathe in a different history and to give my life a breadth that many never experience. Even as I navigate the stress of pausing my American life, I try to hold space for gratitude. Not everyone gets to have two worlds to choose from, or a reason to feel so torn. It is simply the price of a life lived across borders, and in the quiet moments on an Italian piazza, I know it is a price worth paying.

Do you find yourself in a cycle of leaving and returning, or have you found a different kind of rhythm? What are the small rituals that help you recharge your heart? Share your thoughts in the comments.