Expat Life Decisions: How to Stop Waiting and Finally Make Your Move (+ sharing my own!)
- Patricia Abarte
- 3 days ago
- 5 min read
There’s a phase of expat life that no one really talks about.
It’s not the excitement of arriving somewhere new. It’s not the chaos of a big life transition.
It’s something much quieter.
I call it the expat waiting room.
It’s the space where everything in your life looks “fine” on the outside — but deep down, you know something isn’t aligned anymore. You’re not unhappy enough to make a drastic change, but you’re also not fulfilled enough to feel at peace.
So you wait.
For clarity. For the right opportunity. For circumstances to shift just enough that moving forward finally feels safe.
And without realizing it, you stay there far longer than you ever intended.
Listen to the episode here:
Timestamps:
00:00 - Welcome Back: My Personal Update After Three Months Away
01:27 - Why My Body Is Still Adjusting (And It's Not Just Jet Lag)
03:51 - How It Feels to Come Home Knowing I'm Leaving for Good
07:58 - What the Expat Waiting Room Is and Why You're Probably In It
14:28 - The Real Cost of Staying Stuck: Sleep, Joy, and Headspace
23:33 - Client Story 1: She Decided to Stay — and It Changed Everything
26:36 - Client Story 2: Two Years in the Waiting Room, Then One Bold Move
30:09 - Client Story 3: How Asking for a Sabbatical Set Her Free
33:22 - What a Real Decision Actually Looks Like (Hint: It's Not Just Knowing)
45:35 - My Decision: I'm Moving to Mexico City
Expat Life Decisions: Why You're Stuck in the Waiting Room
One of the reasons the expat waiting room feels so heavy is because, as an expat, no decision exists in isolation.
It's never just: "Do I want to change jobs?"
It quickly becomes: "Do I want to stay in this country? Should I move somewhere else? Is it time to go home? Do I even know what I want anymore?"
What starts as a single question turns into a web of possibilities — and that's exactly what keeps you stuck.
I lived this myself. For a long time, I knew I wanted to leave The Hague. But because I didn't have a destination yet, I told myself I couldn't make the decision. I was waiting to fall in love with a new city.
Waiting for the visa situation to work out. Waiting, at one point, for a future partner — thinking, why sell my apartment now if I might meet someone in six months?
That waiting cost me years.
The Hidden Price You Pay
The hardest part about the expat waiting room isn't the indecision itself.
It's what it quietly does to your daily life.
You lie awake at night cycling through the three possible futures you're mentally already living. You become less motivated to invest in where you are. You avoid conversations with friends and family about the future because you've been saying the same thing for months — and you're exhausted by your own loop.
Even small decisions carry extra weight. Should I sign up for a six-month gym membership if I might not be here? Does it make sense to start dating again?
Every minor choice becomes a mirror for the bigger question you haven't answered yet. And that is genuinely exhausting.
The Illusion of Productive Thinking
Inside the expat waiting room, it can feel like you're being responsible. Thorough. Smart.
You're analyzing options. Weighing pros and cons. Waiting until you have enough information to make the right call.
But overthinking rarely creates clarity. More often, it creates more scenarios, more doubt, and a deeper sense of being stuck — while your actual life stays on hold.
I've seen this with the expats I work with inside The Copilot. One client had been in the waiting room for nearly two years. She was comfortable enough where she was, but knew it wasn't a long-term fit. She showed up, did the work quietly, and then one day sent me her answers to a pre-session questionnaire. She had already chosen her next country, started the residency process, enrolled in language classes, and was researching how to bring her pets.
The energetic shift was undeniable. The anxiety that had been quietly running underneath everything was gone. In its place: I know where I'm going. I know what I'm capable of.
That's what a real decision does.
What a Decision Actually Is
Here's what I've learned — and what I see again and again with the people I work with:
A decision isn't just knowing what you want.
Most of us already know, at least in the general direction. The problem is we keep negotiating with ourselves. We tell ourselves we need more certainty, more support, more proof that it's the right call before we'll commit.
A real decision is a commitment — ideally made out loud, to someone other than yourself — followed by a first concrete step.
When I finally decided to leave The Hague, I didn't have a destination yet. But I committed to it publicly, on this podcast, to friends, to clients. I booked a call with a financial advisor. I started going through my storage. Those steps made it real in a way that years of thinking never did.
Another client inside The Copilot had been putting off asking her manager for a sabbatical for months. She felt guilty asking for time away. During a five-day challenge we ran together, she finally had the conversation — and her manager responded warmly and immediately. The relief was instant.
And only then, with it confirmed in her calendar, could she actually get excited about planning it.
The decision unlocked the joy. The thinking never could.
Leaving the Expat Waiting Room
Leaving the expat waiting room doesn't mean having everything figured out.
It means being willing to choose — even at 80% certainty. Even without knowing every step that follows.
One client I worked with came in thinking she needed a change. After two months of seriously exploring other jobs and locations, she made a fully conscious decision to stay exactly where she was. Not by default, not out of fear — but because she genuinely assessed her options and realized her current stability was funding a life she actually loved. That intentional choice to stay was just as powerful as any move.
Because the expat waiting room isn't about geography. It's about the internal cost of living in limbo.
And the moment you step out of it — with a real commitment and a first step — something shifts. The noise quiets. The future stops feeling like a fog and starts feeling like a choice.
Your life isn't meant to be lived in a waiting room.
So whenever you're ready — choose.
A Final Reflection
The expat waiting room isn’t a failure. It’s often a signal — a sign that you’re outgrowing an old chapter.
But it’s not meant to be where you live.
If something in you is whispering that it’s time for change, listen. You don’t have to know the entire path. You just have to be willing to get up and open a door.
Because clarity doesn’t live in the waiting.
It lives on the other side of movement.
Feeling stuck in your own expat waiting room? This is exactly what we work through inside The Runway. Join us here.
This is what I dive into in episode #99 of This Expat Life.
Listen here:
If any of these notes resonated with you, and you would like to explore more of yourself, my programs are the right containers for you to accelerate your growth or your next chapter:
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