Two years ago today, I moved to the US. It's been two interesting years, out of any possible comfort zone, and now, as I write these lines, I realize how much I’ve evolved in the past couple of spins around the sun.
When I moved to Los Angeles, I left behind my family and my friends, my house, my car, my business, my beloved Bucharest, and all its' streets on which I've walked thousands of times. I came here knowing no one else other than my husband, excited about our life together and everything that the US has to offer.
It was difficult, I was scared, and I felt lonely, even though I had the most amazing and supporting husband by my side. I felt insecure because I didn't know anyone, I didn't speak (or write) perfect English - I still don't, I felt the cultural difference. Of course, the pandemic that started after six months of living a new life didn't help either, or at least not at the beginning.
But now, after two years in my adoptive country, I feel like I'm starting to belong. I have a great business as a life coach, and I’m lucky to work and interact with amazing women from my new country, I am starting to get used to everything that used to be so new and different, I am beginning to care less that my English is not so perfect and my accent is pretty thick, and to focus more on what I communicate. I recently understood that nobody cares about my accent if my message has an essence. Now I am taking baby steps toward feeling comfortable about having a conversation with people around me.
Today, when I celebrate two years in my new country, I feel more American than I ever thought I would feel, and I am proud of the road I took.