There’s something unique about being an expat—or maybe better said: a person in transition. You live between two worlds.
One foot still lingers in the country you came from—your mother tongue, your memories, your internal compass shaped by old systems. The other foot is slowly rooting into new soil—new customs, new rhythms, a new way of being.
At times, this feels empowering. I get to choose who I want to be now. I’m not stuck in old roles or expectations. But some days, it feels like a fracture—like I belong everywhere and nowhere at once.
I catch myself translating idioms in my head, wondering if they still make sense. I write emails in one language, think in another, and feel in a third—something older, deeper, that doesn’t belong to any nation.
And yet… this space between? It’s sacred. It’s where reinvention happens. It’s where I find my voice, again and again.
Holding Space for the In-Between
I’ve come to realize that not knowing is its own kind of wisdom.
You don’t need to have a five-year plan when you’re still listening to what your heart is trying to say. You don’t need to know exactly who you are when you’re still gently unfolding. You don’t need to explain your choices to anyone when your soul knows they were necessary.
This in-between space—the place where old identities dissolve and new ones haven’t fully formed yet—is rich soil. It’s not failure. It’s becoming.
And maybe that’s one of the quiet gifts Sweden has given me: the space to stop performing, and to start listening.
To the land. To the silence. To my inner voice, which had been waiting for years to be heard.
An Invitation
If you’re also in a season of transition—moving countries, changing paths, shifting identities—this is your reminder:
You don’t have to rush. You don’t have to prove anything. You are allowed to take your time.
You are allowed to grieve and to celebrate at the same time. You are allowed to be both lost and grounded. You are allowed to not know who you are yet.
Because who you are is not a fixed point. It’s a river. And you’re allowed to flow.
I’ll continue sharing what this journey teaches me. Maybe my words will echo something inside you. Maybe we can walk this road together.
More soon. In stillness and strength, Sandra