Where to lay?

A year ago today, I packed our suitcases in California, closed the door on our sold house one last time, and put my family on a one-way flight to Zurich. 

A few days prior to that, I had handed in my notice, and although I knew that having two grownups in a household taking turns going back and forth between Zurich and NY would have never worked, it was a slightly scary move. Tbh, I don’t think I slept during the week before or right after “the talk” with my now ex-boss. 

Leaving a professional situation that felt, for once, somewhat secure, was far from easy. I am glad I am not in the US anymore, but moving back to Europe did not come without sacrifices. The fact alone that I helped build a company, sold it, and then landed a role I actually enjoyed with the company that acquired us, is rare. I really loved what I was doing, and I am having a hard time finding my feet now. More on that later. 

The last year flew by. I wasn’t really sure what I would do in Zurich, nor when I would start my new, yet to be determined business endeavour, but I surely didn’t think that it would take me a year to unpack a couple of boxes.

Here’s the thing with intercontinental moves to countries that are not your home country: you start from scratch. Every little detail that we take for granted and mostly don’t even notice but use and need in our daily lives needs to be set up: accommodation, schools, bank accounts, travel cards, cars, car insurance, parking, health insurance, electricity, doctors, electrical appliances that match your chosen country’s voltage, mobile phones, internet, … The list goes on and on and on. Add to that the massive pain in the a** that is getting visas or residence permits, and six months feel like the bat of an eyelid. 

Back to finding my feet. Or should I say nest? I have felt like a fat hen waddling about with a massive egg, with no idea where to lay said egg. Over the past months, I have helped out other people with their startups but decided not to get too involved. It might sound harsh, but none of it was good enough. Building a business is extremely tough, and even if you have the best people you can find (aka afford) on board, it might still not be enough. Of course, I too love working with nice people. But foremost, I like working with people who know what they are doing and do it with passion. 

I am not a massive fan of the American hustle culture with its yearly 10-day vacation rules and limited sick days, commutes that take up to two hours, and a bit of a disregard for a general work life balance. But I also feel that a lot of people over here would benefit from a teeny bit of hustle mentality. A lot of Americans I met had a fire burning inside of them that, if channeled the right way, can be an amazing strength. 

Then came a deep but short dive into the possibility of doing it all over again by myself: an idea, a ton of research, more research, seed funding, building, more funding, … and as exciting as this is (very!), I know exactly what it entails. Long days that, even if you can do a lot of the above from home, leave little headspace for anything else, including taking care of your children. My children, both teenagers now, don’t need me in the same way they used to, but they still need me. And I need to be there for them just as much as I need to for myself. 

Long story short, this fat hen has decided not to build a new nest. This time, I am looking for a regular job. You know, like normal people. I know, it sounds crazy. I have started to look around, edited my CV, and even had a few interviews. The last one was particularly notable, as the woman I talked to really blew me away. I’d be lucky to work with her, even if it means that the fat hen will lay her egg in a battery cage.