Stability in Instability; the last two months of my 30s

In the last two months of my 30s, life finally looks stable on paper.

The apartment is settled. Work is stable. Milo is adapting beautifully despite his blindness. The routines are back. The chaos of moving countries, rebuilding life, paperwork, identity shifts, and survival mode is less loud.

But belonging and walking a path that doesn’t have a particular script… 

It’s different story.

In this episode, I reflect on what happens when your external life calms down, but your emotional and relational life still feels unsettled. When everyone around you seems to have their script already written (marriage, kids, family milestones) and you realize your life is anchored somewhere else.

I talk about the difference between the traditional life and what I call the creative life: a life anchored in growth, curiosity, community, and meaning outside the four walls of your house.

Sometimes what people call instability is not instability at all, it’s actual clarity. Sometimes it’s just a different life path that no one has named for long enough yet.

If you’ve ever questioned whether your path makes sense because it doesn’t look like everyone else’s—this one is for you!

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Transcript

Let's talk about something that nobody explains to us properly in adulthood.

For some life may finally become stable, but that doesn’t mean you are, and that you can still feel unsettled even when your life on paper may be stable.

Your job is fine, you apartment locked, fine, routines back, survival mode diminishing

But uh what about belonging, community, the wonder of being or not being where you are supposed to be? What about the choices you have to make when your life follows the minimal societal guidelines? 

The deeper questions your brain affords to ask when you are past survival mode and enters to a new layer of wonder because now you can afford it cognitively.

I was sitting at a table with family, acquaintances, and people that knew me, people who barely knew me and people who did not know me. One of those strange gatherings where everyone seems to have their life script already assigned.

The couple that had to leave early because their kid had hockey practice.

The grandmother who wanted to stay longer but had to follow the family rhythm.

The parents discussing school schedules, routines, summer plans.

Everyone knew what came next.

Their life had an anchor.

And there I was, almost 40, the only one sitting there without the expected script.

At some point, I overheard someone ask quietly:

“Oh… she still hasn’t found the one?”

And I remember thinking… wow.

After everything.

After building a career abroad.

After moving countries.

After rebuilding life from scratch more than once.

I could still be reduced to that one question.

Not my work.

Not my crazy stories.

Just… whether I found a partner.

And weirdly, it didn’t devastate me.

It just made me think.

Because maybe what people call instability… is sometimes just a life path they can’t relate to.

For those who may be new here:

I moved back to Spain in 2024 after more than a decade living in California.

And on paper, life is finally more stable.

I’m settled in Madrid. 

Milo has adapted beautifully, even after losing his sight, which was one of the hardest emotional hits of this whole transition.

Work is stable.

I’m still connected to the LA film industry every week, and somehow it still feels like Los Angeles hasn’t fully let me go.

I have routines again.

Exercise. Structure. Administrative life is mostly resolved. Taxes, paperwork, doctors, logistics

So yes, life stabilized.

But belonging? Feeling rooted? 

Not so much. I don't even feel like that in my own current home yet. 

That’s a different story because stability and belonging are not the same thing. Adulthood teaches that brutally (the immigrant life too).

The real instability now is inside.

It’s relational.

It’s community.

Friendships.

Creative focus.

Identity.

It’s asking:

Now that survival mode is over… What kind of life am I actually building?

When life stops changing dramatically, new questions arrive.

Not:

Where do I live?

Did I make a mistake?

How do I survive this transition?

But:

Who are my people?

Where do I feel understood?

What actually fuels me creatively?

What kind of life supports me, not just impresses others?

For some people, life is anchored inside the house. Family. Routine. Stability.

The most traditional script or pat, and that is as we all know absolutely beautiful.

But for others, life is anchored somewhere else. Where? When it’s not a given is something we gotta find. We may find it…

In growth.

In curiosity.

In community.

In creating.

In constantly asking bigger questions.

I lived there most of my life.

I live in metacognition most of the time, thinking about how I think, why I choose what I choose, what actually matters, what kind of life I am building.It’s beautiful, because it pushes you to evolve. It creates the depth I constantly need and a life that feels consciously lived.

But it is also exhausting.

Because when your mind is wired that way,  stability is harder to fake or find.

You cannot just follow a script because everyone else is following it.

You start asking questions that don’t have quick answers.

Where do I belong?

What is enough?

What is mine versus what was expected of me?

And those answers don’t arrive on a timeline.

That kind of life can look unstable from the outside.

But many times, it’s not instability, it’s clarity and consciousness.

And all of this, I was not able to name it and realise it up until my late 30s.

People underestimate that emotional cost, and associate you with the “unstable”. It creates even higher exhaustion  if your closest circles or most immediate surroundings cannot connect with that life.

At almost 40, I’m often the woman showing up happily confidently to other people’s milestones. I talk to everyone and I love celebrating just about anything that's important for the person.

Weddings. Babies. Family lunches. And sometimes I still hear the petty whisper:

“Oh… hasn't she found the one?”

And no, my career is often not enough for people to believe I built something real.

Because I didn’t use biology to build it.

That’s me, 

That may be you too.

 A non-linear path can feel cruel.

I wouldn’t trade it, I couldn’t even when I tried.

And friends help remind us of that when our closest circles can’t.

If you don’t have one, reach out to me.

I’ll remind you.

Cheers to the creative career thinking life.