A REARVIEW REFLECTION
“From Suburban Wife to Nomadic Life” is a reflection on how a relationship can expand and reshape itself over time and place. It’s about a journey from college days filled with hope and ambition, to the quiet suburbia of raising a family, and eventually to the uncharted territory of midlife.
What does it take to not only stay together but keep growing together – especially when life throws a few curveballs or takes us in a direction we didn’t anticipate?
Coming Home
The golden light and magnetic pull of the ocean followed us along the final stretch of Highway 5. In the rearview mirror, a trail of memories faded into the past. Ten months of living out of a suitcase, and we were back in Southern California. For fourteen years, we had lived and raised our children here. Now, we were back home.
Everything was the same, yet it felt different. I was happy, but uncertain how I’d fit back into this place, or if I even wanted to.
A journey is an adventure but at the same time it can be an emotional rollercoaster: How to Get Off an Emotional Rollercoaster
The past ten months had been more than an adventure. It had been a slow unraveling and shedding of layers, as we tried to make sense of the next chapter of our lives. And, despite a strong foundation in our relationship, we had to navigate just being the two of us again.
Flash Back
Allan and I were friends long before we even thought about getting together. We lived across from each other in an old dormitory for years before things got serious between us. Our first apartment was small, with a shared toilet and a shower cubicle installed in the bedroom. Years later, when we both had well-paying jobs, Allan proposed on a beautiful spring day. Only recently, I told him the true story of what had happened that day of his surprise proposal.
An Awkward Proposal
We were getting ready for a picnic, and I was in a bad mood. I used to blame my mood swings on oral contraception, but I think it’s just the way I am. Allan went back to pick something up in the apartment – something that I had forgotten, and he was nice enough to go get.
Reflecting back on our lives can be important as we move forward: The Importance of Understanding Life Backwards
With nothing better to do, I looked in the glove compartment as I waited in the car. And there it was. A tiny blue jewelry box, holding a beautiful titanium ring with a slim gold band and a small diamond.
Don’t judge! Of course, I looked in the box! You would have looked too.
I was punished by an intense feeling of guilt, and the fact that Allan got cold feet just before we sent out wedding invitations.
Doubt
The day before we were supposed to leave for a skiing trip in Austria, out of the blue, Allan said he wasn’t sure we should get married. I was shocked and felt the rejection as a physical pain in my entire body. Everything had seemed straightforward – after all, we had been together for 9 years at that point.
There were no explanations, just doubt.
We went skiing after all, but the wedding invitations stayed on the kitchen counter. The following two weeks were completely surreal, as if they happened to someone else. Yet, I believe the way they played out was a defining factor for our future life together.
Stuck
As we drove fifteen uncomfortable hours from Copenhagen to Austria, an unfamiliar feeling of insecurity was wedged between us. On the second day of skiing, the whole area was closed because of a snowstorm and the risk of avalanches. It remained closed for two weeks, and there was no way of leaving.
There is a risk of avalanches at any time in our lives - sudden, powerful, and destructive forces - that can leave us stuck: How to Avoid a Midlife Avalanche
All we could do was walk from one end of the small village to the other or play a few outdated board games that were missing crucial pieces. The highlight of the day was watching military helicopters fly across the valley, bringing food and supplies.
So, there we were, stuck with each other for 24 hours a day. Trapped by the storm, not knowing when we were able to get out – a perfect reflection of the suspended uncertainty we both felt about our future.
We didn’t talk much. Eventually, I stopped asking questions. There were no answers. Physically and emotionally stuck, we simply waited for things to settle quietly between us.
Moving On
Two weeks later, we were airlifted out of the area by military helicopters.
We sent out invitations and continued with the wedding plans as if nothing had happened.
A part of me was terrified that Allan wouldn’t show for the wedding. I told on one. We were the only ones who knew that the wedding almost didn’t happen. However, even with the ups and downs we’ve experienced over the years, I never questioned our commitment to each other since the day we exchanged vows.
Soulmates aren’t the ones who make you happiest, no. They’re instead the ones who make you feel the most. Burning edges and scars and stars. Old pains and pangs, captivation and beauty. Strain and shadows and worry and yearning. Sweetness and madness and dreamlike surrender. They hurl you into the abyss. They taste like hope – Victoria Erickson
Turning Points
Our marriage was built on a foundation of respect and equality. We shared everyday tasks and made decisions together. Or we would just fight, criticize, nag, stonewall, gaslight, or give each other the silent treatment – as equals, of course.
The following two decades, we experienced several turning points. When Allan got offered a job in California, we saw it as an opportunity to explore new possibilities and deepen our connection as a family.
We traded in safety and predictability, and life pulled us in a direction we hadn’t fully prepared for.
Sometimes it can be necessary to leave comfort if we want to avoid stagnation, disconnection, or recentment in our relationship or life in general: Breaking Out of My Comfort Zone - But Why?
What seemed to be the adventure of a lifetime also became a reordering of our roles and responsibilities. Allan stepped into a more traditional provider role, and I took on the invisible role of raising our children and running a household.
Changing Roles
Until that moment, a big part of my identity had been closely tied to my work as a pharmaceutical scientist. I used to be an independent, career-driven woman. I was going places.
Now, trying to think one straight thought or go to the bathroom, got interrupted by a “MomMomMom” all day long.
When Allan came home from work, I was wearing a pair of worn-out leggings as if I had intentions of working out, which, of course, never happened. Dinner was non-existent, the kids were fighting, and “Mount Washmore” had erupted outside the laundry room.
What Not to Say
He only had to say one thing: “How was your day?” and I was contemplating if I should say something sarcastic like “Feels like I just came home from the Spa” – or simply hit him.
How was my day?
It was long, loud, and messy. A steady drip of everyone else’s needs above my own. In fact, my day was a logistical nightmare, a challenge in diplomacy, and a crumbling of my sanity.
I worked hard to get past the resentment during those first years in California. After all, I had to own my choice to stay home with the children. Even if the terms were different, Allan and I found common ground, and I grew in my role as a mother.
It wasn’t always pretty. There were challenges, disagreements, yelling, and misunderstandings. Allan and I see these moments of discomfort a little differently. He thinks they are unnecessary. I think they prevent us from slipping into emotional numbness, indifference, and disconnection.
The Blink of an Eye
And in the blink of an eye, the house got quiet.
Did I ever anticipate missing the worn-out use of the word “Mom” as much as I did? When I looked in the mirror, a woman was staring back at me, asking, “Who are you and where are you going”?
It may feel like a crisis but with a little rewiring of your thinking it could be a huge opportunity: How to Turn a Midlife Crisis into a Midlife Opportunity
There were so many questions about this next phase of our lives. “What would we do?” “How would we survive without the children?” “Who were we without the children?” There was no midlife manual, and communicating about difficult decisions was never our strength. The more I pushed for answers, the quieter Allan got.
Again, there were no answers. Just doubt.
As always, I had to make space for all the unknowns to settle between us. Just like when we were stuck in the snow before we got married.
A Midlife Journey
No military helicopter came to our rescue this time around, but we had somehow replaced the fear and uncertainty of midlife with a journey across the US.
Choosing to live or do something out of the norm sometimes takes The Superpower of "I Don't Care What Other People Think"
Point of No Return
Ten amazing months of living in different places across the country, and once again, we were at a crossroads: Keep going, living the nomadic life we had grown to love, or unpack our physical and emotional belongings and settle back into the comfort of suburban life.
Grow old along with me; the best is yet to be – Robert Browning
Looking back, our journey wasn’t just about chasing new adventures. It was about learning how to keep meeting each other in new ways. Our relationship had been stretched and shaped for 32 years by careers, finances, moves, children, values, goals, and compromises.
In midlife, it was time to update the mental “bios” we had of each other. Staying together didn’t mean holding on tightly to what was, but loosening our grip enough to rediscover who we had become. It meant growing together and choosing each other again and again – with intention.
As we got closer to “home,” it became obvious that this journey somehow had been a point of no return. Our relationship had never been built on certainty, but on the willingness to explore the unknown – together.
Read More
If you’re trying to navigate midlife transition, read more stories in the Midlife Journal
Want to travel and need inspiration? Read about fun and exciting destinations in the Travel Journal