We Moved to Spain and Everything Fell Apart (Part 1)

Hey friends. I know some of you recently joined my blog wanting updates on our journey in Spain. Sadly, I’ve been lacking in my writing lately, but I’m back now and ready to share.

Life really hit hard this past year, or more, and I think it just took me a long time to process and get through the waves of grief. Then the move here didn’t quite go as planned, so it’s just been tough to put it all out there and be this vulnerable.

You see, when we left for Spain, we had to put my sweet pup, Joeker, to rest. I was devastated. He was my little buddy, Mommy’s boy. Just two short weeks before, we had all of his papers ready to come with us, but fate didn’t have it that way. We had to put him to sleep, and I didn’t expect him to go so soon. He was such a big comfort to me.

My buddy, Joeker. Always by my side.

Life hit hard

But then… it got worse.

And honestly, the truth is, it had already been building.

Less than a year before all of this, we lost my father-in-law. Sometimes I’m not even sure I fully processed that loss or how I feel about it. Grief comes in waves, they say, and I think I was just trying to stay afloat.

Then everything else came crashing in.

I knew my aunt wasn’t doing well, but you know how you always hold onto hope that maybe things will turn around? I guess that’s easier to say when you’re not there living it with her like her adult children, my wonderful cousins, and my uncle were. They were there until the end, taking care of their mom and wife, and I know if she could have said it, she would have told them how thankful she was. Life is unexpected like that.

So just two weeks after moving to Spain, I lost one of the most important people in my life, my Aunt Di. She was like a mom, or even an older sister to me growing up. Sure, over the years our dynamic changed as life evolved. I became a mom, I moved away, but it never changed how much she meant to me or how much I meant to her.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure she talked some shit. I know I didn’t come around as much as she would have liked, but I know in her heart she loved me. Even if she didn’t always say it out loud. Although I swear at one point, during everything we went through with cancer, after one of us cried or shared some hard news, she did say it, but maybe I imagined it. And honestly, that’s fine too. I didn’t need the words. She showed it.

My Aunt Di at my Bachelorette Party

So, as you can imagine, for a while there, on top of changing everything we knew in this world, the grief kind of took over, like it does. I tried to keep living life normally, but I didn’t really get to experience her death in real time, so it almost didn’t feel real. I had to find my own way to process it all.

It took time. Lots of tears. A long battle with depression and anxiety. So much talking, so much crying, sometimes not even knowing why I was talking about something, just needing to get the thoughts and feelings out. I’m so thankful to have my hubby there for me through it all. I truly don’t know what I would do without that man.

Our Crazy Journey

So, here I am, ready to share more about our journey.

A journey through my own grief. A journey through the resilience of our children. And really, the journey that brought us closer than ever, but also changed everything.

But hold on, because it’s been intense. Like… seatbelt required kind of intense. The ups, the downs, the roadblocks, holy shit.

Where will we be in a year? We honestly don’t know. We still have so much exploring to do before we can say for sure. This is our reality. Some people may not get it, but it’s been really nice meeting other immigrants living life like we are, people who understand the uncertainty, the beauty, the frustration, and the thrill of it all.

It’s okay if others don’t get it. We just hope they can respect it and give us the grace we deserve.

So… where do I even begin?

A lot has changed since we moved here, and for a while, I couldn’t talk about everything because we were working with a lawyer. But now I can, and I will.

So hey, let’s start there.

Chaos Unfolding, Sprinkled with Some Gaslighting

This has probably been at the top of the list of things that made us want to throw a temper tantrum and run back to the US.

I’m not going to lie, I get so annoyed when people act like we’re just being needy Americans expecting too much. Come on. Wanting a home with clean mattresses, no bugs, tiles not falling off the wall, and without mold making my family sick doesn’t feel like a big ask.

When we first moved in, we put our cat’s food down on the ground in his bowl like we always do. The landlords acted like we made some huge mistake because it “attracts ants.” Ummm… okay. Next time, I’ll just set him up at the dinner table with us.

But really, what were we supposed to do?

That should have been my first sign.

So the owners “fixed” the ant problem by spraying Raid all over the kitchen, where our dishes and food were, while our whole family was in the apartment. No warning. Apparently, that was the solution.

Cool. Let it go. How often are we even going to see them anyway?

Ha.

About a week later, timing is approximate, I started noticing these little orange caterpillar-looking things in my bathroom and kitchen. At first, I just got rid of them and tried not to think too much about it. But then I started seeing more and more, in my bathtub, even on my towel.

Gross, I know. But I kept thinking maybe this is just normal here. Am I being over the top? Trying not to be that “needy American.”

Then one night, I found one under my pillow.

Nope. Absolutely not.

I jumped up, stripped the bed, and found, under two mattress protectors, a mattress that looked about 30 years old, covered in stains.

That was it.

I checked the other mattresses, and sure enough, two of them were disgusting.

So began the process of convincing them to replace them while we slept on the couch, which honestly was probably just as bad. It looked like it had been held together with curtain rods and covered with fabric way too big for it.

And yes, they ordered the cheapest, hardest mattresses possible. Of course.

Then the company didn’t even take the old ones, so those gross things just sat in the hallway for weeks. That was a whole other mess. My phone barely worked, I knew almost no Spanish yet, it was rough.

And that wasn’t even everything.

Our kitchen and bathrooms constantly smelled like sewage. I tried everything to fix it, it only helped a little. The owners just shrugged it off as “city living.” But this was… a lot.

Eventually, I realized they hadn’t even closed off the pipe leading down to the sewer. Covering that helped a little bit.

After the mattress situation, I reached out to the relocation agent, the one who was supposed to help us, but she was just as bad as the owners. It very much felt like: we’re English, they’re Spanish, and we’re not on the same side.

At one point, she even suggested that maybe my emotions were making the experience worse. That maybe I just needed to “change my perspective.”

Life is what we make it, right?

The heavy ass tile that fell off in the kids' bathroom.

So basically… I was the problem.

At that point, I was still excited about living here--just frustrated with the apartment. But we had rented it sight unseen, and she was supposed to be our eyes, ears… and nose.

She didn’t mention the abandoned apartment next door, filled with pigeons, which we could hear all night. Or that the “large porch” looked out over a completely run-down area.

And like many places here, the owners had left all their old furnishings--mismatched, outdated, and only sometimes clean.

After that call, I felt defeated. Like maybe it wasn’t that bad. Maybe this was just normal. Maybe I was expecting too much.

So we let time pass.

But I didn’t feel good in that apartment.

We were constantly sick. At first, I thought maybe it was just normal when moving abroad--new germs, new environment. I tried to rationalize it.

But something didn’t feel right.

Laywers: Who Needs 'Em?!

The turning point came after I went back to the US for my aunt’s celebration of life. When I returned, everything got worse.

We were all exhausted. Weird symptoms started showing up--fatigue, leg pain. Something felt off.

I had been suspecting mold for a while, but Shannon wasn’t quite there yet. He knows I can worry, so he thought maybe it was anxiety.

So I ordered a mold test kit.

We set it up… waited…

And sure enough: mold.

But around that same time, Shannon started having really intense symptoms. His eyes were constantly burning and dry. Then came these nervous tics--blinking nonstop, throat clearing, eye twitching.

It was scary. I was done, and no one could convince me otherwise.

That’s when I found a lawyer through other immigrants and set up a call. He immediately said we likely had a strong case--and that we should probably leave.

So we did.

We found a VRBO nearby and started packing. It’s crazy how much you accumulate in just four months.

I went back and forth, cleaning and packing while trying to limit how much Shannon was exposed to. And that’s when we really saw how bad it was.

Mold everywhere. Inside every AC unit. Dirt buildup. Damage.

At one point, while Shannon was taking pictures of tiles coming loose, a huge tile fell straight onto the toilet in the kids’ bathroom. If one of our kids had been in there…

I don’t even want to think about it.

Then we noticed cracks--everywhere. Deep cracks across the ceilings throughout the entire apartment. Combined with the pigeon-infested unit next door, it was just… too much.

Happy Thanksgiving

We officially

moved out on Thanksgiving.

Not exactly our usual celebration.

Two kids wanted Taco Bell, one wanted McDonald’s, so Shannon and I split up and made it happen. Not ideal but we were doing what we needed to do to get them somewhere safe.

By then, I could really see the toll it was taking on the kids. That part hurt the most.

But I kept hoping the next place would be better. That things would finally settle.

I’ll stop here for now…

But stay tuned for the VRBO nightmare and everything that came next.

Because honestly, would you expect anything less at this point?

Took Aubrey out of school for a Mental health day after the chaos we dealt with in the apartment. Mr. Buddy Jingles still came to Spain and Grayson and I enjoying Thanksgiving Dinner. Life is what you make of it.