TwT: The Next Chapter

And just like that…

I’m back, somewhere new, maybe someone else, but if you look closely, I never really left.

I’m writing this from my new apartment in Berlin, Germany, and it’s the start of a new decade in my life. I’m a mom now. A wife. A doctor of physical therapy. A writer. A traveler. A wanderer. A sharer. An explorer at heart, but also someone who’s always just wanted a place to call home. I’m still TwT — I always have been — because even when I thought I left her behind, she follows me everywhere.

We moved to Berlin as a family in July. As you can probably imagine, it was a big decision, with big conversations and big emotions. Ultimately, despite my wrestling with the idea for 3-4 years, I think I always knew in my gut that this move was inevitable. Inconvenient and intense but also inescapably obvious. The thought of it gave me a tingle of za za zoo, that feeling when you have a new crush that makes your heart flutter and reminds you that life can have a little magic in it. But it was always met with a harsh pang of heartache and nostalgia — how could I give up being close to my friends and family in my beloved New York City? My home. My soul. My heartbeat.

I have a way of always making life a little more complicated. Maybe it’s because I see life as a write-your-own-adventure book, and I can’t help but want to make mine a story I’d want to read. I’m not good with boredom. I start flapping my wings and making a mess of things if I get restless.

I feel compelled to share again, but the way we share has evolved since my TwT days. I share more photos than words these days. But something about being here in Berlin called me back to the good ol’ blog… And at some point, Instagram posts just don’t cut it for this long-winded 80s kid.

Sharing is like a reflex for me. I wanted to capture all the moments, the feelings and the thoughts from this move in real time, but real time is not my own anymore. Real time got a little more “real” when I became a mom. By “real,” I mean fun things like paperwork, childcare logistics, the constant diving of to-do lists between me and my husband, cleaning, packing, unpacking, filling out forms, keeping track of paperwork, translating important documents, ordering or running around buying basic necessities and really just trying to get through each day one day at a time while consumed by bureaucracy, life logistics and a confused and emotional toddler. Let’s be honest: You don’t want to read about that! (Or do you?! Because I have lots of material!)

Before I sound too mopey, let me just say this: I love, love, love being a mom! There is so much beauty in this phase of life, and I feel so lucky to have this chance, this family, this kid who brings me so much joy and sweetness. It can be really fun and it’s overwhelmingly special. But it can be two things at once. Or more like 25 things at once.

I think I just wish being a mom didn’t take away those little precious moments when I got to just be me, still, in a quiet moment I didn’t have to share with anybody else. But like pregnancy, becoming a mom is folded right into becoming yourself. It’s an evolution that is constant. It’s not an eraser, but a magic marker writing all over who you were before. You’re still under there, not erased, just buried in chaos and colors. The smell of orange and pink. It’s nice, but maybe not what you need or want every second of every day.

Mornings have always been mine — my time to think, to feel, to write, to process to reflect — like a daily meditation I crave and need and love. A purging of some life moments that makes room for more. I can’t remember the last time I took a morning to just write (like right now — my birthday present to myself). But motherhood and an international move have complicated this part of my day, splitting it into pieces and giving it away to everyone else around me (or more like the emptiness that often surrounds me) so that I’m left with only the crumbs of a day that was once all mine.

Crumbs are hard to work with when you’re hungry. Sometimes it’s just easier to sweep them away and throw them out rather than try to turn them into something beautiful. I miss my mornings — that was my TwT writing time! Or my whatever-I-need-and-want time, whether it was to read, run, write or just go meet friends for a group workout somewhere.

But that’s motherhood sometimes: Having only the crumbs left to eat when you’re hungry, but giving them all to those around you because they, sometimes reluctantly, matter more to you in the moment. My stomach growls a lot less since I became a mom. I think it’s the body’s way of shutting up and listening to others more than yourself.

That said, I’m ready to reclaim some of that time, my words, my voice. To listen, and feel, and be whoever and whatever I want in the moment. To WRITE! To share. To revisit and explore the process of moving to another country and all that comes with it.

When I change my perspective, my life is so flush with new possibilities right now. It just takes a quick reset to go wait a second, it’s all that — the crumbs and overwhelm of a move and crazy logistics — plus this really invigorating and thrilling newness that makes me excited just to walk down the street and turn the next corner. I’m in that phase right now, where walking outside is its own little thrill. But again, both of these experiences can happen simultaneously. That’s what I’m getting right now.

When I was in my 20s, I wrote about my solo travels around Mexico, Ecuador and Argentina. I captured the storms and the rainbows of the adventurous life, the exotic romances (well, some of them… ) and the dangers of exploring uncharted territory both geographically and emotionally as I navigated a decade (and self) that I was constantly trying to make sense of and understand. It felt good, and raw and exciting, but also hard, lonely and painful sometimes. That said, the net was really bright and shiny and great. I woke up happy just about every day, which I know is an annoying and obnoxious declaration — but it really is the truth! I’m still so proud of those days, of the courage I had (and still have) to take on major challenges even when I know they will come with fears and tears. I did what is in my soul and I have no regrets about letting myself roam free. It feels pretty darn good to know I gave that to myself.

I shared much of the journey through my 20s in this blog because it was therapeutic for me, and honestly, it helped me feel safer knowing people had some sense of what was going on with me when I was far, far way. I captured many of the crazy stories I never want to forget, and I think a part of me is ready to do that again. Even if the stories and roads I travel are less wild, I hope my experience can provide you with an escape, and I know (I hope) so many moments that are relatable, even if they come in different shapes and sizes.

When my 20s ended with a return to NYC, a new relationship, and the start of grad school, the need (and time) to write seemed diminished. I figured nobody wanted to read about my studying and new healthy and happy relationship — boring! And privacy became more of a priority than sharing. But don’t worry, things still fell apart, as they do.

And then, they got put back together more beautifully than ever. Mostly.

The bumps didn’t stop, and there is too much to share about all that right now, so I’ll just get to the point.

I’m starting a new chapter here in Berlin. We are, as a family. This is Travels with Tavel, the next chapter. Maybe I’ll call it “Rachel in Berlin,” because if there can be an Emily in Paris, there is definitely room for a Rachel in Berlin.

This move was years in the making. This person I am today was also years in the making. I’ve grown so much. I’ve learned so much. I’ve been crushed, and humbled, and challenged and inspired. But amidst all the change, one thing has stayed constant: I’m still the girl who searches the world for understanding, for inspiration, for new experiences and challenges and adventure, for a sense of freedom that I always crave, and maybe just to discover myself (and new parts of the world) over and over again, because I never stop looking for more.

I hope you are ready for another ride, because this new adventure has only just begun.