Arriving in Switzerland during Chaos

Four years and eight months ago, we arrived in Switzerland. We were fleeing a pandemic that had stripped us of the freedom to choose where to go, how to dress, and how we wanted our children to study.

We rented a little house right by the lake: garden, terrace, several bedrooms — simple but perfect. The school was just a five-minute walk away. It was the ideal setting to start over.

Of course! Like every new beginning, it was both new and difficult.

Knocking  Doors and Finding My “Dream Job”

I knocked on many doors until I landed a job in the Psychological Support department at Foundations for Learning, in Zürich.

Just three months after arriving in Switzerland, I already had an office in the city center, supporting clients from private and public schools.

My dream job ❤️

In Switzerland, I learned to set those limits because it’s a form of self-care and self-respect.

Letting Go my  Children and the Silent Grief

When we moved, my kids were little: Matthias was just one year and a few months old, Emma was five, and Raphi eight.

The first obstacle was me. I didn’t want them going anywhere alone, dressing themselves alone, bathing themselves alone.

Letting them go, trusting that they could, was one of my greatest griefs. For me, it meant accepting that they no longer needed me as much as I thought they did. For them, though, it was confidence, self-esteem, freedom.

Another Culture, Different Rhythms

Adapting to a culture with clear norms and rules — some that made perfect sense, others not so much.

Living in a society so different from ours in almost every way forced us to grow, to reinvent ourselves, and to discover just how strong we can be, both physically and emotionally.

I learned to take care of them and of myself: what we ate, exercise, my work, my sleep hours. Sometimes I forgot, and the weekend would arrive with me out of breath, wanting nothing more than to sleep.

The Loneliness That Goes Unseen

In my sessions, I heard stories similar to ours: difficulty making friends, feelings of loneliness, lives spent staring at the calendar, counting down the days until the next vacation.

And so the end of the year would come, over and over: few moments for coffee, lots of stress, and constant attempts to recreate at home what I had learned in my own family.

This experience, with all of it, was incredible. We are grateful for the good and for the hard parts.

What We Truly Carried With Us

Today I know we are better people, and we have discovered how strong we can be — we’ve even learned to feel comfortable in the silence, truly listening to ourselves.

My children dream of taking the Swiss to Peru:

“It would be amazing if they fixed the roads, the tunnels, the order, the cleanliness, the care in every detail… it would be beautiful!” Because here, so many things work almost to perfection.

And yet, through all of that, we learned that none of it is enough when something essential is missing: a support network, real connections, the Peruvian family, and communal sense of belonging

Sometimes I return to Robin Sharma’s book: a man who had everything, but had to let it all go to find another kind of happiness.

My family and I were a bit like that monk: we had the puzzle-piece landscapes, the security, a system that works, opportunities, travel, and education.

And still… we weren’t completely happy.

Our feet as our foundation, and the wisdom that is — and will be — our guide.

Without a safety net, without roots, without extended family, material things lose their value.

There is peace in the decision we have made; there is reconciliation. I know it won’t be easy, and anxiety will show up more than once.

But, as Matthias says with his simple wisdom:

“If  grandma can do it and she’s okay, then we can too.”

And perhaps, in the end, that’s what it’s all about: finding the place — external and internal — where we can truly be well.

For now, we have something even bigger: Family.