It really hit us when we had American guests this past year. Afterward, Gina and I commented that we felt different. It was intangible then. But as I pondered it, a few thoughts began to form. The Spanish lifestyle is so radically different that after a year-and-a-half of immersion, it can’t help but affect us. 

We no longer feel like Americans. For me, the curious sense of pride that once came over me as the American national anthem played, as if flags were flying and bands playing, has turned to shame. It had been a great thing, in those old times, to be an American. You were deeply conscious of being one part of a great nation. It was no mere matter of pride, but there went with it a profound sense of confidence and security in life and a comradeship of millions. Yet now, when I speak of America, I speak in the past tense. It no longer feels like my country, it feels like a foreign land. 

I acknowledge I am in the midst of a remarkable transformation—a dramatic shift in my life that is not just external but internal as well. Relocating to another country and learning a new language is a powerful metaphor for the individuation process, which Carl Jung described as the realization of the self. This process is often marked by overcoming conflicts, breaking free from limiting beliefs, and embracing the full spectrum of one’s being.

Language is perhaps the best reflection of what I am moving toward—a place of integration, beauty, peace, and wholeness. But in the interim, there has been a feeling of fragmentation or uncertainty during the turbulence of relocation and language learning. The difficulty of learning a new language is not just a logistical challenge; it is also a symbolic representation of the challenge of relearning how to express myself in a new context, of finding my voice in a world that feels unfamiliar.

I have quite literally “left behind” a familiar way of being and stepped into an entirely new world: physiologically, psychologically, geographically, and demographically. This transition, while exciting, is extremely challenging. I did not fully realize how different Europe is from America. 

My current life is a profound transformation, one that takes a great deal of courage. When we told our friends and family that we were moving to Spain, many expressed admiration for our courage. However, we did not fully grasp the courage it would take until now. Walking into so many unknown situations and unfamiliar places indeed requires a great deal of courage. I stand in awe of Gina and how she has bravely faced innumerable daunting experiences. 

The enjoyment we are finding in Spain, despite the loss of so much, requires resilience of the self. However, living in Barcelona, exploring my creativity through writing and painting, and embracing a slower pace have ushered in a peaceful and introspective new stage of life. 

The MAGA chaos and belligerence (which was very unhealthy for me) contrast sharply with Spain´s more relaxed, tranquil existence. This is important as my psyche is still working through the immense upheaval caused by renouncing not just religion but the entire structure of my former life. To step away from such a deeply ingrained identity—one that encompassed not just my career but my family, community, and spiritual beliefs—is no small thing. 

It requires shedding old skin, and that process often takes time to fully integrate. I have no regrets, yet it is sometimes a struggle to fully release the patterns and responsibilities of my former life. The loss of family, friends, and community is not just the loss of people, but also of a sense of belonging and certainty. 

My former world (before Trump) was one of clarity, structure, and expectation; now, as I embrace a life of more fluidity and autonomy, I realize it’s natural for the psyche to wrestle with how to fully reconcile these two worlds. My writing and painting provide deeply expressive and reflective outlets. Painting, especially with watercolor, allows for a kind of gentle exploration and experimentation—the way the colors blend and flow is not entirely under control, much like the transition I’ve made in my life. Perhaps this creative process is one way my psyche is trying to “paint” a new picture of who I am, thus the numerous self-portraits. 

And life here provides the opportunity to write uncensored and with no restraints. To candidly recount a life characterized by sensuality, curiosity, communion, and freedom. 

I know that, at a deep level, I am finding meaning in this new life. As I continue to explore Spain and delve into creative pursuits, I still long for some form of connection—not to the past faith I once had, but to a different kind of belonging, a community of like-minded individuals, and even a deeper connection to the self. Even in my peaceful retirement (in Spanish, retirement is signified by a beautiful word: jubilado), my psyche could still be working to integrate the parts of me that were chained to the former structure of my life. In many ways, this is part of the individuation (my growth) process—integrating all aspects of my self into a whole.

I am becoming wholly Spanish. And it feels right. I am grateful.

A few of many examples:

• Language-the Spanish language is beautiful. It is musical and offers expansive new ways of expression. Every day, we are becoming more comfortable speaking Spanish. And daily, we feel more at home. We laughed as we were recently in Austria, where the primary language is German (which I studied in university) yet we found ourselves reverting to Spanish rather than English or German.
• Routine-many of the ex-pats we have encountered here in Barcelona stubbornly refuse to adapt to the much different daily lifestyle here in Spain. And at first, that was true of us, but as of this writing we are doing a month-long experiment of adapting to the Spanish lifestyle. It is a huge transition. 

A small breakfast, work/play, dinner at 2-4 pm which is the big meal of the day, followed by a siesta (definitely not an American thing), more work/play followed at 8-9pm by a meal of one tapa Monday-Friday, and two or three tapas on Sat and Sun) and glass of wine-most of the time at one of the myriad sidewalk cafes. Then around 11pm one episode of a TV series, then to bed. 

• Lifestyle-far less television, most days only one hour, far less media consumption, cell phone, Internet, news and much more arts, reading, outdoor activities, and far less hurry and stress and much more tranquility and relaxation. 
• Food-I cannot overemphasize the difference in the food quality and quantities. Most mornings include a trip to the market for freshly. Many ultra-processed foods allowed in America are not allowed here. The food comes available in season as the farmers harvest, it is not preserved and shipped across the country. You can literally taste the freshness, it is like a whole new culinary world. And oh, the seafood, oh my. Especially after being in Austria, I realized Spain has my ideal cuisine, the Mediterranean diet, which is so healthy. 
• Wine-when we moved here, we had no idea it would be like moving into California´s Napa Valley. This part of Spain is one of the greatest wine regions in the world. Priorat, Penedes, Ribera del Duero, La Rioja, and so many more varietals all close by. And the best wines primarily cost under 10 euros as opposed to $50-$150 in Napa. The wine also has much less sulfites and many are organic. 
• Coffee-There is a difference. The coffee here at virtually every restaurant is delicious. I started looking and every restaurant has a full-on espresso machine. No Bunn or Mr. Coffee pots of old coffee here. So we splurged and asked recommendations and purchsed a DeLonghi La Specialista Espresso Machine with Grinder, Milk Frother, and we order fresh roasted coffee beans from a local roaster. Oh my. No more NeSpresso or Keurig coffee for us. Our lives have changed forever. Coffee is a huge deal in Spain. It is an event, not a quick caffeine boost. 
• No Car-I had no idea how much tension and stress come from operating a car or multiple cars in America. Not only are we saving thousands of dollars a year, more than enough to travel and buy espresso machines, but the safety and convenience of utilizing quality and clean public transit and the health benefits of walking 10,000 steps daily cannot be overstated. Gina and I agree we would never want a car again. In the rare event, we need one to travel to a few inaccessible areas in Spain, we can rent one. 
• Time-Time passes differently everywhere here. It is not god. We don’t mark the passage of hours, minutes, seconds. Not like America does, not with work hours or endless appointments. It has a different essence. It’s … fluid. It can bend. It’s not the straight, rigid line I once thought it was. If a Spanish party invitation says it begins at 5 pm, it does not start until 7 pm or so. If you arrive at 5 pm, there would be a colossal embarrassment because nothing is remotely ready. One is not late for an appointment until after 30 minutes or so. There is no hurry. The operative word in Spanish is tranquilo, relax. It takes getting used to, but oh my, once you adapt, one wonders how I lived before.

There is so much more. But for now, yes, we are becoming Spaniards. We have renewed our Resident Visa for two more years, and after one more renewal, we can apply for permanent residency. And at this point, we plan to do so. ¡Viva Españya!