Tag: travel

• The Invisible String

  About eight days ago, I received the dreaded spousal support email. Without divulging (and therefore waiving) any confidential information, I’ll just say the number was about 200% more than I anticipated. Great.

  I had been terribly anxious about that email, and that number. When it finally came, I crashed. I spent the whole day crying and letting it all out. I don’t feel despair or hopelessness anymore. What I feel now is anger. I feel used. I feel like he keeps a thick, invisible string tied around my neck that he pulls whenever he wants to. He is not letting me go. He thinks I owe him, that he is entitled to (my) money. I understand that spousal support can be requested legally, and that is fine, but I am essentially paying for my abuser’s lifestyle while he completes his PhD. Again, I left him everything I had: stock, car, checking account… you name it. And I paid for him for the entire duration of our relationship. I am eight years younger than him, and frankly, I almost did not survive him. It took every ounce of strength I had to leave. I am depleted and slowly regaining my vitals, but he is still here, trying to wear me down. He cannot comprehend why I would abandon him when he is, allegedly, such a god.

  I was so proud of myself for letting it all out that day, on my own. I was proud that I could welcome the emotion instead of fighting it back, and simply accept that yes, this hurts, and that is okay. I felt something inside me get a little unstuck… like I am learning to feel safe, at peace, and in touch with my emotions.

  Then my parents came to visit me in Los Angeles from France. My mom presented at an italian american society I recently joined, and it was a very emotional evening. I introduced her (which led to a lot of tears), and then she presented for about 90 minutes on an Italian opera. We visited landmarks in East Los Angeles, and I threw them a barbecue with my friends. But most importantly, we had a relaxing, chill time: hanging out, cooking, watching Shrek, and taking it slow.

  The last time my parents visited was back in 2023. My ex drove them all over Los Angeles from the minute they landed and never let them relax. He insisted on eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner out, and he always had them pay. Always. He treated them like cash cows. I kept telling him that my parents don’t need this, that they much prefer hanging out with us, cooking at home, going for walks, and doing one or two activities a day. Please don’t drag them to an Italian restaurant two hours after they land, before they’ve even showered. My mom is Italian, and they don’t care much for Italian food in Los Angeles. They weren’t even allowed inside the apartment we shared and had to get an airbnb.

  This time around, I was able to host them properly. They had their own king-size bed with a super comfortable mattress, a credenza, a closet, hooks to hang their clothes and towels, and their own balcony. The guest bedroom is looking very good, and despite the single bathroom, my apartment is big enough to host them comfortably. It was so special. I managed to pay for a lot (and overall, we took it much slower and only went to two restaurants, lol). And they met the boyfriend, whom they already love. Said boyfriend had a very complicated relationship with his ex-wife’s family and was immensely stressed leading up to meeting my parents. Safe to say, we both conquered it. It felt normal, easy… right. We all had a lovely, relaxing time. They left yesterday, and the apartment feels empty without them.

  I am so angry about the past and the hurt, but at the same time, I’m so thankful for the lessons it squeezed out of me.

  Yesterday, I responded to my ex’s spousal support number with something that most likely sent him into shock. I can’t manage his emotions anymore, but god fucking hell, I am anxious. My stomach is twisted and my heart is racing. I want this to end. I want him to walk away and leave me alone. I miss the dog, so much. But I surely do not miss him. Just hoping that the divorce train keeps on running, so that an end at some point in time, is in sight.

  

  2026.10.27

• Building a Life Across the Atlantic

  Sorry for the radio silence. I thought about you, though. I was buried in work in London, then went to Paris for almost a week. All with my lover. I attended my 10-year high school reunion and saw an incredible number of friends and family. It was so much, yet at the same time, so little.

  To be the daughter of an immigrant in Los Angeles — in my case, Italian and French — is a wonderful experience. Everyone in the United States, especially California, is from somewhere else, and incredibly proud of their roots. It’s starting to feel like home. This divorce is tainting that feeling somehow. It reminds me that I was never really from here because I did not choose (alone) to come here, yet I want to cling to something I fought so hard for and built.

  I attended a one-year law program just to transfer my credentials so I could attend law school in the U.S. That alone took months of applications. Then I had to get accepted. Once accepted, I had to fight. I took the bar twice, mind you, in my second language. No employer knew my credentials here, and on paper they looked far weaker than any other JD student’s. I did a couple of informational interviews a week, securing them first, then preparing for them, every single week for nine months. I lined up four interviews (two of which I flew to LA for from the Bay Area) and got two offers. I want to make this mine.

  But then I return to France, to Europe, and I’m faced with the reality that this is, or should be, home. I only lived in France for two years total, but it should feel like home. I feel good there. I reunite with old, dear friends, the food makes me feel better, and so does the pace of life. I miss France a lot, but I know living there would be a fantasy. I know it wouldn’t be what I expect, and that, overall, I should stay under the palm trees.

  I’m back now, dazed and confused with jet lag. I am caring for our dog (co-parenting with my ex-husband), and having her back in my life after two months of missing her is wonderful yet scary. Getting back into the swing of things, and for me, that’s always bittersweet. I’m leaving behind a life I knew and loved, and I need to keep building a new one, across the Atlantic.

  

  Paris – coffee, lovers, & kisses.

  2026.09.25

• Maudlin Thoughts from London

  As I am bracing myself for the upcoming very hectic corporate client meetings work week in London, my thoughts steam to the surface like a hot chocolate in the winter months.

  The return to the old continent is bittersweet. I am in London, seeing all my best friends (I am from Europe and spent a chunk of my life between England, France, and Scandinavia). I am technically here for work meetings (i.e., firm paid for a full London trip to see old clients and secure new ones). I am so euphoric and flooded with emotions to see and experience my old life, and catch up with my really old friends and family. I live in Los Angeles right now, and sometimes wonder. Is it the best thing I should be doing with my life right now? Building this new big career, friendships, roots and a lover – while I have this beautiful deeply loving and old community abroad? I am wildly happy to be here. Brought my new lover as well. Oddly enough, it feels so natural to take him through all these old places. He is from NZ but has traveled the world extensively (part of his music gig) and he also has a deep connection with London. Two lovers from separate continents, who met in Los Angeles, somehow find something special in London – each bringing up their own set of memories and experiences, successes and failures. In the most corny sense ever, my heart is so full. Full of hope. Full of kindness, independence, love, care, and freedom. I feel like I will burst any second, spilling all my affection and care and love that has been repressed in me for a while. I want to scream my loving spill to the world. I love Europe: my old friends, family, and lover, how dear they are to me, how blessed I feel and how special they are. All of them. Yes, you too.

  2026.09.13