Life has a way of hitting the pause button when we least expect it. For me, that pause came in the form of a move –  a big one. I left everything behind: my home, my career, my family, and the rhythm of life I once knew. I moved to the United States with my husband, holding onto love, hope, and a suitcase full of uncertainty.

At first, it felt like free fall.

I wasn’t allowed to work, and that loss of purpose and structure was a massive shift. Building a new routine from scratch felt like trying to walk in a storm –  with no clear direction and every step harder than the last. I went from being someone who had a schedule, a network, a role –  to someone who felt invisible in a place where even the smallest things (like grocery shopping or using public transport) were unfamiliar.

Culture shock is real. The food, the weather, the customs, even the way people interact –  all of it felt foreign. And while it’s easy to romanticize starting over, the reality can be raw and lonely. I hit the lowest point in my life during this transition. There were days I questioned my worth, my choices, and whether I could really do this.

But through it all, one thing remained constant: my husband’s support. In a time where everything was uncertain, he became my anchor. He didn’t just offer emotional support –  he took action. Knowing how much I missed working, he helped me find a path back to purpose. He looked up volunteer opportunities and found the Washington English Center, where I now teach as a volunteer.

Being able to teach again –  even in a different capacity –  reminded me of who I am. It gave me a reason to get up in the morning, to prepare, to connect. And while it’s not paid, it’s fulfilling. It reminds me that even in this hiatus, I can still make an impact.

This season of life taught me that pauses aren’t always setbacks. Sometimes they’re necessary recalibrations. They’re quiet spaces that allow us to grow in ways we wouldn’t have if we just kept moving forward at full speed.

I’m still adapting. There are still days where I long for the familiarity of my past life. But slowly, I’m learning to make space for the new –  new habits, new people, new flavors, new routines. I’m not who I was six months ago, and that’s okay.

If you’re in a similar place –  feeling like life is on hold –  I want you to know this: it’s okay to be in a hiatus. It doesn’t mean you’re lost. It doesn’t mean you’re failing. It just means you’re in transition.

Give yourself time. Give yourself grace. Because eventually, you’ll look back and realize this chapter, as hard as it was, shaped you in ways that matter.