Originally published: October 21, 2024 I spent much of Sunday binge watching Three Women on Starz. I was prompted to watch the show after a barrage of ads on my FYP . In one of the ads a beautiful woman dark-haired woman was talking about how her husband hadn’t touched her in almost three months. I was drawn in and intrigued. She shared her story with so much pain behind her eyes. I needed to know more. The series is based on the non-fiction work of Lisa Taddeo. She explored the lives of three women across America over the span of eight years, as they navigate the complexities of desire, love, trauma, and personal identity. The series follows three central characters: Maggie, a young woman whose relationship with a high school teacher has deeply affected her life; Sloane, a successful businesswoman who carefully manages an open marriage; and Lina, a suburban mother of two who is starved for affection and intimacy in a loveless marriage. Though all the women resonated with me, it was Lina’s story that struck a personal chord and really captivated me. Lina’s journey felt deeply relatable in more ways than I had anticipated. I have never seen a character quite like Lina whose life mirrored mine in so many ways. Her journey is a raw and honest portrayal of vulnerability, yearning, and the sometimes painful pursuit of connection with the ones we love. It felt like parts of my life was being played out on screen right before me. It helped me confront my unresolved feelings about love, intimacy, and self-worth. *** Lina’s story begins with the internal dialogue of a woman who appears to be trapped in a marriage devoid of affection. Her husband Ed, is an emotionally distant and clueless man who shows little interest in physical intimacy. After years of living at a tolerable level of permanent unhappiness, Lina reaches a breaking point and begins to crave something more—something that makes her feel alive again. In addition to the deep emotional pain, Lina is also dealing with the physical pain of fibromyalgia—like me—and endometriosis. Lina discovers this at a visit with a rather eccentric doctor who recommends medication, cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), and a good orgasm. Oh, how I can relate! The stress of existing in a loveless marriage was a perfect breeding ground for the resentment, anger, and stress factors that contributed to Lina’s chronic illnesses. But there was more, so much more, that as time went on, we understood what was happening to Lina. At every turn, I understood Lina. I understood her frustration and hurt. It is no wonder that women experience a higher prevalence of chronic illnesses and why we initiate most divorces. It becomes unbearable. *** One of the rather more intense scenes is when Lina had to call for emergency services, because she thought she was having a heart attack. Ed returns home, only to downplay what occurred, tells Lina that her pain was all in her head. Not only is her emotional pain being disregarded, Lina is being gaslit by her husband. She isn’t met with sympathy, but rather, her very physical pain was being trivialized. This furthers the divide. This is the point I think Lina is pushed over the edge and she was willing to lose everything. Watching Lina grapple with these feelings was incredibly emotional for me. It was as though she was voicing thoughts I had struggled to come to terms with in my own past life. At some point, many of us have felt unfulfilled in relationships, whether romantic or otherwise. We’ve sought connection and affection, only to be met with indifference or rejection. All Lina yearned for was touch, passion, to be desired, and loved, and even that was too much to ask of the man she committed herself to. This was a window into the suffering of women across the globe . Her vulnerability was palpable to the point that I couldn’t even fault her for the decisions she made. She is achingly real. In her desperation to feel loved, Lina slams straight into her past love as a a major act of self-preservation, and I could not even hold it against her. After all she was already abandoned. *** Lina’s affair with Aidan, her high school sweetheart, and what-if guy is a pivotal part of her story. This is where things get interesting. It is an affair born not out of malice, but out of a desperate need to reclaim a sense of intimacy and desire that had long been absent from her life. Embarking on the affair felt like both an act of empowerment and destruction. On one hand, she is finally feeling desired again—she feels alive in a way she hasn’t in years. On the other hand, she is aware that the relationship is precarious, built on the shaky ground of nostalgia and fantasy. Lina is also locked in a juvenile state of trauma that in some ways has stunted her emotional growth. A woman in a loveless marriage can sometimes feel like she has nothing to lose and so much to gain by emotionally and physically detaching herself. What kind of husband deems it acceptable to ignore the intimate needs of his wife? The type who is willing to lose her. She had been in such a state of unhappiness that she just finally broke free. She would prefer to ask for forgiveness later than permission now. This tension between Lina’s need for fulfillment and the potentially damaging consequences of her actions hit home. We’ve all experienced moments where we’ve made decisions, knowing they weren’t entirely healthy or sustainable, but feeling like they were necessary for our emotional survival. She sacrificed everything on the grounds of the relationship cemetery called Facebook when she decided to reconnect with her old flame. *** The societal judgment she faced for her infidelity felt familiar. As she seeks out intimacy and love outside her marriage, she is met with criticism, not just from those around her but within herself. She grappled with feelings of guilt and shame for wanting more than what her marriage can provide. In many ways, Lina’s story is a commentary on the way society often views women who are unfulfilled in their relationships, especially mothers—internalized shame, and the suppression of sexual desire. There’s an unspoken expectation that women should be fulfilled by the responsibility of partnership, motherhood, and having their socio-economic needs met. All she would need is a benzo, and she would be perfect in the role of a 1960s housewife. It is this very kind of restrictive thinking that leaves so many dissatisfied housewives in the wind. It prioritizes male pleasure, and continues to make female desire feel taboo. After all, we are reduced to productivity and contribution to our families. Nothing more, nothing less. Lina is the personification of the internal conflict that women go through when we’re left to fend for ourselves in a way that requires true partnership. She tried and tried building a connection, but Ed refused to listen constructively. I understand the level of pain Lina had to be in to seek comfort outside her marriage. In that moment, I could not judge he. At some point, something had to give, because living in an unfulfilled marriage is emotional purgatory. *** By the end of Three Women, Lina is far from having all the answers—after all, both she and Aidan are married. She’s still searching for a balance between her needs and her responsibilities. But what stands out to me most is her growth. Lina’s journey is one of self-discovery, of learning that she is worthy of love and affection, even if that love doesn’t come in the way she originally imagined. She comes to the realization that she doesn’t need to settle for a life of emotional and physical deprivation nor does she have to be a married man’s secret. Lina personifies what happens when women give themselves permission to acknowledge their desires, mistakes and all. By liberating herself from the need to center male desire, she exercised agency over her mind and body—mistakes and all. (Photo of Lina in a red dress JoJo Whilden/SHOWTIME)

It is so easy to see, but so hard to understand the gravity of it all. How can there be so many ways to communicate, yet so many of us move like passing ships in the night? The way we socialize is much like the way toddlers play together—with little intimate interaction, but a strange acknowledgment that someone else is in the room. There are time when I respond to Instagram stories, laugh at TikToks from my friends, like vacation photos, comment on the milestones of ex classmates, and somehow still manage to avoid having a real conversation with another human being for much of the day, outside of my children. How is that even possible? We're more connected than any generation before us. We carry entire social networks in our pockets. We can FaceTime across continents, send memes in seconds, and know what our high school lab partner had for brunch last Sunday. And yet, many of us are feeling increasingly disconnected. The New Face of Isolation When people hear the words social isolation, they often picture older adults living alone or people who are physically separated from family and friends. But social isolation has quietly become a young adult problem, too. Many have traded spontaneous coffee dates for reacting with heart emojis, replaced phone calls with voice notes, and convinced themselves that watching someone's Instagram stories counts as catching up. Sometimes it does. Often, it doesn't. There's an important difference between knowing what someone is doing and actually feeling connected to them. The Friendship Math of Adulthood Making friends as adults should probably come with an instruction manual. In school, friendships tend to happened naturally. You sat next to someone in class, shared snacks, complained about homework or your instructor, and suddenly you had plans for the weekend. Adult friendships are a bit more complicated. There's work schedules, family commitments, and gym classes. Group chats that somehow require twelve people to agree on one restaurant and one date that works for everyone. "Let's grab coffee sometime!" has become the unofficial anthem of adulthood. The challenge isn't usually that people don't want connection. It's that connection takes intention. Why Connection Matters Human beings aren't designed to do life entirely on their own. Community gives us support during difficult seasons, people to celebrate victories with, and someone to text when the recipe says "fold gently" and we have absolutely no idea what that means. Research continues to show that strong social connections are linked to better physical health, improved mental well-being, and even longer life expectancy. Friendship, it turns out, is doing more heavy lifting than we ever realized. Can Social Media Help Solve the Problem It Helped Create? It's easy to blame social media for our growing disconnection, but the truth is more complicated than that. Social media itself isn't the villain. Many of us maintain long-distance friendships because of it. We find communities that share our interests, connect with people we never would have met otherwise, and stay close to family members who live far away. The challenge comes when online connection completely replaces offline connection. What if we used those same platforms to encourage people to step back into real-world relationships? To reduce social isolation we need to take small steps toward meaningful connection. You don’t need to delete apps or swear off technology forever, but create a space for both worlds to exist. What Finding Your Circle Might Look Like Finding your circle doesn't necessarily mean building a huge social life or becoming the person who somehow knows everyone at the farmer's market. Sometimes it looks like: Texting the friend you've been meaning to check in on. Saying yes to the invitation instead of automatically declining. Joining the local book club, running group, or volunteer event. Turning a quick coffee into a monthly tradition. Introducing yourself to someone new even when it feels awkward. Especially when it feels awkward. Most meaningful relationships start with two people being brave enough to risk a slightly uncomfortable conversation. The Small Moments Matter The older I get, the more convinced I become that connection isn't built through grand gestures. It's built through ordinary moments. The coworker who asks how your weekend was and actually waits for the answer. The friend who remembers your big presentation. The neighbor who waves every morning. The person who notices when you've been quiet. Those moments may seem small, but together they create something powerful: belonging. Maybe This Is Your Sign If you've been meaning to reconnect with someone, consider this your gentle reminder. Send the text. Make the call. Accept the invitation. Schedule the coffee date that's been living in your messages for six months. Because while followers, likes, and views all have their place, they aren't the same as community. Existing in a place that often mistakes visibility for connection, finding your circle might be one of the most important things you ever do. Photo from Joel Muniz/Unsplash

Hi! What do you have planned for the weekend? After crashing and burning spectacularly last week—fellow spoonie—I decided to take it easy this week. I plan on heading to visit a waterfall in the Adirondack mountains. I hope we can make it there. After all, that was my goal this summer even though I have only managed to do a few. I am also planning a movie night with the girls which we have not done in a while. Another thing I hope to do is do more reading for fun, so my goal is to start reading something on Libby. I don’t know what genre I’m heading for yet, but I need something whimsical after reading all these social work text books for school. Here are a few awesome reads. To those who grieve more than death. Join my new community for people living with chronic illnesses. Alex Elle always delivers to her substack community. With fall quickly approaching, shift the energy in your home. I will forever be fascinated by neuro art. For those starting graduate school, here are some survival tactics. The highlight of the week was this beautiful moment shared in a growing friendship. The Daily Grind, Washington Park and a beautiful brownstone decorated with flowers in Downtown Albany. (Photo: The Daily Grind, Albany NY/Renata Poleon)

This past weekend, we made a last minute trip to NYC to see my mom and reunite my daughters with some of their childhood friends. It was wonderful and we all had a great time. As exciting as it has been moving to another city, we miss our community of friends and the relationships we nurtured for all these years. One of the big challenges throughout this transition was maintaining balanced relationships. We encountered challenges, but with some effort, we have managed to maintain the important relationships, so far. I have been doing my very best to help preserve their friendships by organizing virtual play dates and video chats. At some point, it started feeling like I was the only one reaching out to initiate these arrangements. I am left feeling that I am putting more effort into maintaining contact than they are. Nothing feels worse than when effort is not reciprocated, especially on behalf of your child. These were children who loved playing with her. I have now decided to preserve the relationships where parents participate and let the others evaporate. This was a true life lesson for the girls knowing that some people are only meant to be in their lives for a season. For those who stayed, here’s how we have been able to keep those bonds with the kids, no matter the distance. Both parties need to be invested. I cannot emphasize this first point enough. Maintaining a long-distance friendship requires effort from both sides. Both parties (parents) have to be equally invested in keeping the connection alive. Avoid letting the relationship become one-sided, where one person is always initiating contact or making plans. This will make or break the relationship between the children. Embrace Technology. In today’s digital age, staying in touch is easier than ever. Video chat has been a great resource for the kids. Platforms like WhatsApp, Zoom, and FaceTime make it easy to have real-time conversations. It shortens the miles between us. We also share photos, videos, and updates to maintain a sense of closeness. Schedule Regular Check-Ins. Having a routine ensures that you stay connected and involved in each other. This could be a weekly video call, a monthly phone call, or even a virtual coffee date. Consistency helps maintain a sense of normalcy and ensures you don’t drift apart. I even scheduled virtual play dates. There were times when we got busy and miss those appointments, but by communicating these inconveniences we manage to quickly get back on track. Plan Visits. Whenever possible, plan visits to see each other. It could be for holidays, special occasions, or just because. Having something to look forward to can keep both of you excited about maintaining the friendship. Adapt to Change. Conversations with the girls have been crucial in this transition. We talk about how their lives will change over time, and so will their friendships. They are learning to be flexible and willing to adapt. They are realizing that sometimes, life events might make it harder to stay in touch as frequently as before, but this doesn’t mean the friendship is any less valuable. Maintaining long-distance friendships requires effort, commitment, and creativity. For children, that transition can be successful with the active participation of parents who understand that teaching their child to nurture these relationships is important. By leveraging technology, being intentional, and staying flexible, you can ensure that distance doesn’t diminish the bond you share. Remember, it’s the quality of your connection, not the quantity, that truly matters. What did you do to help your children maintain their relationships after moving?

I can’t say I completely knew who I was before chronic illness began its work on my physical and mental health. After all, it started early for me. Right around fourteen to fifteen years old. I was busy finding my place in this world, falling in love, building friendships and not having a care in the world. Then the symptoms came. They were subtle at first. Numbness in my hands. Aches and pains here and there. Nothing that signaled to me that I was about to begin the toughest journey of my life. But as time went on, the aches and pains progressed. I recognized my body wasn’t quite functioning the way it should. I could not trust my body, but no one believed me. My journey of being undiagnosed for almost a decade, while experiencing the sense of loss that comes with chronic illness, frequently put me in a profound state of sadness. For much of my life I have treated my grief around having chronic illnesses as something to overcome rather than a capacity. I mean, after all, that is what many of us have been taught. No one ever talked to us about what to do with our grief other than you overcome it. We can acknowledge that grief is something that we all inevitably go through, but I never thought I would have to experience so much of it, especially at such a young age. It is a truth that so many people with chronic illness live with everyday. We grieve in our endings, our beginnings, and all the choices in between. We exist in the liminal space of a series of deaths and rebirths. Nobody told me that many days I would wake up feeling betrayed by my body. Nobody prepared me for being in some degree of pain daily. Nobody prepared me for what that does to your mental health. Nobody told me that some days, I won’t recognize my life. Nobody told me I would be surviving an infinite medical trauma loop. Nobody told me I would experience identity crises that demand I pivot constantly. Nobody told me I would be grieving the life I worked toward and I did not get. When living with chronic illness, grief shows up everywhere. It shows up when you do not have the mental capacity to work past 2pm, because of severe brain fog or body aches. It makes sitting upright feel like an Olympic sport. It shows up when you question your sanity while sitting in a doctor’s office as a 15 year old child being told that you’re just a tense person and having that continue for almost another decade until one doctor takes you seriously. It shows up when you go through all your personal days in a few months, leaving you to deal with the financial ramifications of unpaid sick days. After all, being chronically ill is expensive. Even worse, you may dread telling HR that you need accommodations to do your job, while simultaneously dreading the possibility you may be fired for not being able to keep up—ask me how I know. The person you were becoming and the plans you made are getting derailed or have to be restructured to accommodate your new life and the person you’re becoming. The worst part is everyone expects you to be okay with it. To just push through. They assume it can’t be that bad, because you don’t really look how you say you feel. They think you simply need to learn how to adapt and pivot. No one seems to ask the cost of doing that. And the absolute worst of it is when they say “Be grateful.” This one makes me want to scream. As I work on becoming a social worker, I can’t help but think of chronic illness and grief from a person-in-environment lens. How does my family, community and wider society help or hurt me in my grief? I recognize that we are all forced into the ideals that we cannot stop moving even when our bodies put up a resistance. This impacts everyone, but for people with chronic illness, there is an added pressure, even when we want to give ourselves grace. We sometimes walk away feeling like we’re failing or not doing enough. This feeling gets amplified, especially when you get into the role of parenting—specifically motherhood. I am learning that pain and grief are treated like an ecological disruption of our society. Our human bodies, seen merely as something to extract from, but never truly something deserving of care. I recently saw this question being asked. “What does it mean to treat grief as a capacity and not a failure?” It means accepting we will all experience it, some more than others. After all, so much of healing work is grief. It means accepting how our mind and body process the loss of our old life, energy and independence, and honoring that loss. The best thing we can do for ourselves is to drop the timeline on grief, and allow healing to take as long as it takes. Chronic illness has asked us to become acquainted with a version of ourselves we never expected to meet. We do this all, while still carrying the memory of who we were before. As we engage in this dance with grief we can embrace more of who we are becoming. We can pivot and we move forward. Looking for a gentle space to talk about the gray areas of chronic illness? Join our private community, The Chronic Life Lab, on Facebook.

What are you up to this weekend? We signed up for a community based art event that I am excited about. One kid is hesitant to attend, but unfortunately, there isn’t a choice, so we are all heading out. I will also be working on a crochet wearable. I hope you have a great time this weekend. With Threads becoming my best social media spot, I want to leave you with a few awesome things I saw there. I felt this in my heart and soul. To raise awareness. To educate. To inspire. Until next time.

For a long time, I have used this blog to bring lighthearted lifestyle content that stays away from the work of advocacy—after all, the world has enough people to do this work. I’ve written the occasional posts about living with chronic illness that allowed me to process what it means to live "in between," but I have never really dug through the surface. Lately, I found myself thinking, why not me? After all, I am most suited for this responsibility, especially as a second-year Master of Social Work student. I plan on working with individuals living with chronic illness with a focus on grief after I am done with school. I understand the power of community, mutual aid, and safe spaces, so why not me? I understand what it is like to exist in a space between a good health day and a flare-up. The space between who we used to be and who we are now. It is a gray area that can feel incredibly lonely. After all, I have been in this space for about 30 years. It’s been a long time coming I suppose. In all that time, the most important thing I know is that we don't have to navigate it alone. That is why I am so incredibly proud to open the doors to The Chronic Life Lab—a private Facebook group designed specifically for adults navigating chronic and autoimmune illness. This is a gentle, empowering virtual sanctuary. It is a low-pressure space where you can connect with others who truly "get it," right from your couch or bed. We will host structured online meetings, share our daily triumphs and grief, and occasionally use gentle, accessible art prompts to express what words cannot. Whether you are a young adult managing a new diagnosis or an elder who has walked this path for decades, your wisdom and presence are needed here. Come as you are—tired, flaring, hopeful, or anywhere in between. Join The Chronic Life Lab on Facebook Note: This is a peer-led community support space, not a clinical therapy group.

About three years ago, I made the decision to move from NYC to Upstate NY. I lived in Brooklyn, surrounded by biological family, some of whom I grew up with in my home country. Unfortunately, their physical presence did not translate into an emotional connection. It remained that way, even after the births of both my children—there was minimal contact. I got a rare visit after the birth of one of my daughters from one family member and a play date with the son of another, and the rest were non-existent. The suburbs had been calling my name for a while. My well being was on the decline as I was developing severe anxiety in the city. I was an overwhelmed mom of two children who just wanted a fresh start and quicker access to nature, much like the surroundings of my childhood on a beautiful Caribbean island. There was nothing was tying me here, so I high tailed it out of there. Recently, I came across a video by therapist and Youth Practitioner Dorcas Opoku talking about low-effort families. I connected immediately and recognized this is what I had been experiencing all those years—I just did not have a word for it. I dug a little deeper and discovered that the term low-effort family was popularized by psychologist Dr. Sherrie Campbell. It is a dysfunctional family system where members make minimal emotional investment by offering the bare minimum in support, interest, and connection. They act out of convenience rather than genuine care. Unfortunately, with that dynamic comes immense disappointment. At some point, you eventually learn to reciprocate the energy you receive. Simply put, it feels like a form of passive-aggressive rejection and the only way to deal with that is to widen and deepen the ocean. With that said, I got to thinking, what does parenting look like for someone who comes from a low effort family? You grieve. Then you accept. The first step with a low-effort family, is to match their energy. There is no way a round it. By doing so, I was able to create distance without an explanation, especially since I tried to create connection. Most of the time, this will naturally occur, because low-effort families may not even notice or care that you no longer communicate with. My efforts came in the form of creating a family group chat and trying to organize a family trip. The chat was quickly ruined and no one bit into my idea, so it was dead on arrival. At some point, you have to be honest with yourself about the lack of reciprocation, because this wasn’t it. The inevitable choice is separation. This is when grief starts, an inevitable part of the whole process. There will be moments when you look at other families—ones that show up, call often, gather easily—and it stings. Not because you don’t understand your reality, but because you do. You work through these feelings and eventually get to a place of acceptance. You make space for the love they refuse to give and allow yourself to be nurtured by people who will show up in a more healthy dynamic. There will no forced peace, no pretending it doesn’t hurt, but rather you choosing not to chase what isn’t choosing you. You parent without the village We were never designed to parent alone as a society. This is the part no one romanticizes. Parenting without a built-in support is a heavy responsibility, one I would wish for no anyone. It challenges you mentally, emotionally and physically when there’s no rotating help and no automatic community to lean on. But there is also clarity. You just show up everyday, because your children are watching how you move in relationships. They are learning what love looks like, not just in what you say, but in what you tolerate. I am having an honest revelation about the way I am. Part of the reason why I have gotten so strong about keeping people out who do not want to actively participate in my life, is because I saw my mother tolerate a lot in the name of maintaining ties with biological family. Experiencing changed me, and I promised myself that I would never allow my children to endure that unnecessary hurt. Staying in low-effort relationships teaches them that love can be inconsistent. Choosing distance, on the other hand, teaches them that love should feel like presence. Like effort. Like care. You become intentional about who gets access Naturally as a parent, you are the center of your children’s life. As a parent who has lost community with your low-effort family, you are pretty much all they have. This may feel daunting, but it is also a space that allows you to choose who becomes part of your children’s lives. I have to admit, I momentarily experience sadness sometimes when I think about the fact that my children do not know their cousins, aunts and other family members are, and do not have the network that I once had. But then you think about the fact that you get to determine who has access to them. As chief of this small village, you get to choose your child(ren)’s village. What you are building is rooted in consistency, safety and love that shows up. This reduces the kind of disappointment that you encountered and serves as fuel for you to parent from a place of actively prioritizing your child(ren)’s emotional needs. You define what family is There is a point where family stops being about who is related to you and more about who shows up. In our home, things are simple. Birthdays don’t come with a house full of relatives. There aren’t calls, cards, or surprise gifts from extended family, but there is love. Because of this, I have placed emphasis on building our own family traditions that belong to our little unit—quiet, intentional, and full. I bake their cakes every year. We have a family dinner with the honoree’s favorite dishes. We respect requests for quiet birthdays and ones celebrated with friends who have become like family. We celebrate in ways that feel meaningful to us. And over time, you realize something. Your children don’t feel like they’re missing anything…because they’re not. You nurture sibling bond One of the most intentional choices I make is helping my children build a strong relationship with each other. I model empathy and fairness and guide them through conflict with the goal of preserving and not damaging their connection. The same care I pour into them individually is the care I encourage them to give one another. You avoid comparison, celebrate individuality and build traditions that strengthen their bond. You praise and encourage their efforts to show each other acts of kindness, both big and small. You reinforce this behavior, because it is those moments that shape how they will love others for the rest of their lives. They won’t exist like passing ships in the night, but develop enough emotional intelligence to be intentional in their relationships starting from their immediate family. Watching their relationship grow is one of the most healing things I’ve experienced. I am encouraged to continue on this path. If not for me, then for them. How do you navigate coming from a low effort family?

I’m currently in Helsinki Finland, and I still can’t believe I get to say that out loud. I’m elated. This vacation feels long overdue, but it’s also so much more than a getaway. It’s an opportunity to explore a new country with intention, curiosity, and purpose beyond leisure for two weeks. As much as I already miss my two beautiful girls, this is something I’ve wanted to experience for a very long time. And there’s something deeply satisfying about being able to say to myself: I made this happen. Our itinerary has been packed with opportunities to explore Helsinki alongside an amazing guide from our sister college. Every day has felt like a mix of learning, adventure, and truly stepping outside of my comfort zone. And if I’m being honest, there’s a part of me that keeps thinking about how unexpected this all feels. Who would’ve thought that a forty-something Master of Social Work student would finally get the chance to study abroad? So many people experience this in their late teens or early twenties, but for some of us, life takes a different route. Sometimes it’s finances. Sometimes it’s family responsibilities. Sometimes the opportunity simply never comes at the “traditional” time, but at the right time. Out of the 17 students on this trip, I’m the oldest student—and also the only Black student. In fact, there were no other people of color on the trip. At first, I won’t lie, that felt a little intimidating. But as someone who has often found herself navigating predominantly white spaces, I’ve learned that there’s usually an adjustment period. There’s discomfort at first, and then slowly, you begin finding your rhythm. From Albany to Toronto, then Reykjavík, and finally Helsinki, I found my sweet spot through lighthearted conversations, humor, and simply allowing myself to be present. This experience has also made me think deeply about study abroad opportunities for mature students. There are so many adults returning to school later in life who never get the chance to participate in programs like this—even when the opportunity exists. Many are balancing careers, parenting, caregiving, finances, or simply trying to rebuild their lives through education. Before leaving, I posted on Threads about being a forty-something student studying abroad, and the response honestly surprised me. Thousands of people liked the post, commented, or reached out privately with questions. And almost every conversation shared a common theme: fear, lack of support, childcare concerns, or financial limitations. I understand all of it. But I also want more mature students to know that they deserve experiences like this too. Even if you’re the oldest student in the group. Even if you feel out of place at first. Even if your path looked different from everyone else’s. You belong there too. Sometimes you may even realize you’re closer in age to your professors than your classmates, but honestly, talk to them. Connect with people anyway. Show up anyway. I waited a long time for this opportunity. And now that it’s here, I’m fully embracing it. So if you’re over 40 and thinking about studying abroad, consider this your sign to look into it. It may feel scary, unconventional, or even unrealistic at first, but sometimes the most meaningful experiences happen when we finally allow ourselves to say yes.

For a long time, I have always wanted to study abroad. It was appealing to me, because it is meant to be an immersive, educational experience. So I applied, got accepted, and joined a group that comprised of future social workers and nurses, mostly in their early twenties. I was the only black woman and the oldest student to be part of this cohort. This would intimidate many, but I though, why not take on a new challenge! I could learn so much on a trip with a bunch of twenty-year olds. I was right and wrong. Here are some of the lessons learned during my trip to Finland: They have the energy of bunny rabbits. Watching them go from educational activities in the day to social activities at night almost without breaks exhausted me. Our days were packed by our sister college, who did a great job of hosting us. It seemed like their social battery never died out, but I, on the other hand needed more time to recuperate. Fortunately, I learned to stay in my lane, and simply joined them when I had the energy to. They’re cliquish—which I guess is the norm for young adults. I was part of two group chats, but I later discovered there were many more subchats I wasn’t included in. It became visible when we had free time that they managed to disperse in what seemed like a well coordinated fashion without informing me. It worked in my favor, because it allowed me to spend time exploring Helsinki on my own without the constant chatter. Someone who will be offended. Due to fatigue, chronic illness and simply being more reserved in large groups, I sometimes don’t realize how quiet I get at time. If you’re not used to me, it may seem like I am functioning from the sidelines. That frustrated a young woman in particular, and I reminded her that very early on I stated that I need a little more recovery time from our packed and busy days. Sticking to my clear guidelines prevented me from feeling the need to apologize or take responsibility for someone else’s offense. I realized as a black woman, I am damned if I do and damned if I don’t. There are some people who are hellbent on misunderstanding you. If you’re reserved, you run the risk of being deemed as stand-offish and even being ostracized in predominantly white settings if you do not quickly assimilate. So when confronted with negative interactions, I leaned into my wisdom and decided that I will not perform to satisfy anyone’s need for immediate closeness, which seemed to be the issue. In certain settings, it is best to choose silence. When negative interactions arise, you sometimes need to activate the grey rock method—a psychological self defense tactic of emotional detachment and brief communication that is meant for self preservation. Being in close physical proximity to someone who you may deem harmful forces you to prioritize my physical and psychological safety. Furthermore, it is important to document and report in order to safeguard you and your reputation. When they exclude you, stay excluded. If you feel like you’re being excluded, you very likely are. The last thing you should to do is confront the offending parties. Thankfully, I have the superpowers of being unbothered and knowing how to stay in a good mood. I am my own best friend, and I enjoy my own company. This allowed me to happily explore the city of Helsinki, where I met amazing people on my adventures. This made for such an exciting time. When you know who you are, no one can rock your world. I am a migrant, the daughter of a single mother, a divorced mom, friend to many, lover of humanity and staunch advocate for the disadvantaged and marginalized. I have had many experiences, some of which could have destroyed me, but here I am, still standing tall. My self identity is built on what I think of myself, not what others perceive me as. As a Black woman living on this planet, you learn to navigate and survive without completely falling apart. I wish more Black girls and women were able to experience study abroad. Studying abroad can be expensive. Since we are not a monolith, I know some of us are having these experiences while other Black families may not have the resources for this experience. Nonetheless, I would love to see more Black girls and women represented in these spaces. Improving diversity in the study abroad pool can potentially help make for a better experience. I had a wonderful experience despite the small challenges. It just illuminated issues I was initially concerned about, but it was worth every small discomfort. Did I enjoy it? Yes. Will I ever do it again? No. Would you ever study abroad as a woman in your forties?