Got all shoed-up today in magical denim Jimmy Choos as I was going out for a rare dinner with ex-expat group of girlfriends tonight.
International life has its ups and downs and one of the slight downs is what happens when you move “back home” after several years of expat life. Nothing. Of course I don’t mean nothing happens at all but socially it’s a tricky situation. Living overseas means that every time you come home for a visit the social agenda is jam packed. Evening after evening is filled with dinners, drinks and hanging out with people who are genuinely thrilled to see you and excited to hear of your life in New York/London/Dubai/Khartoum or wherever. Time flies and everybody makes an effort.
Moving back you imagine you are going to slot right back into your old circles and back into your own life only to realise that everybody else has of course moved on and formed a life. Not that your friends aren’t still just as lovely and pleased to see you, as you are them, but naturally things just aren’t ever the same as they were you were all 25 and string free.
To avoid total emotional collapse; it is a very good idea to arm yourself with a life of your own. This group of former New York City moms who have moved back to Stockholm are a very welcome and dear addition to that life of my own.
Things didn’t quite work out as I had planned. Had to take little boy K to the emergency room as a precaution due to an inflammation in the nether regions. So instead of drinking cava in Choos I’m drinking water out of a paper cup in white sneakers.