The Expat Eley's

At the beginning of 2025, we had no idea how much our lives were about to shift.

I felt tired.

I felt unsure.

I felt like I was quietly holding my breathe through life.

This year didn’t start with a big dream–it started with grief, reflection, and a deep longing for something to feel lighter. Somehow, over twelve months, we found our way back to ourselves.

This is the year that changed everything.

Part 1: Before We Left

January: Sitting with the Hard Questions

January was heavy. I questioned nearly every decision I’d made since my dad passed in 2021, while also trying to give myself some grace. Losing him changed me in ways I’m still uncovering. Somewhere along the way, grief dimmed parts of me–including my love for teaching, something that once felt like home.

Then along came Bean, our daughter.

Watching her grow through her first year of life softened me. It reminded me why I loved teaching in the first place: connection, curiosity, presence. As I started looking into teaching again, one thing became clear–I didn’t want to begin this chapter in the U.S. My heart kept pulling outward and eventually landed on Asia.

With equal parts hope and fear, I shared the idea with Zach.

February: Choosing the Risk

Zach took his time thinking over this decision, and I’m grateful he did. Then one ordinary day, while grocery shopping at Aldi, he looked at me and said, “You know what? F**k it. Let’s do it.”

It wasn’t dramatic. It was calm and certain. That same day, I started researching TEFL programs and the idea stopped being a dream and started becoming a direction.

March: Letting the Dream Take Shape

By March, I had completed my TEFL certification and begun interviewing. Conversations turned into offers and we ultimately decided on Nanjing. It felt surreal–exciting and terrifying in equal measure. But for the first time in a long while, we felt aligned.

April: Preparing to Let Go

April was full of lists, paperwork (literally, endless amounts), and late nights. But more than that, it was about letting go. We were slowly dismantling a life we had worked hard to build. Packing up our comfort, familiarity, and proximity to the people we love. It was necessary, but no less painful.

May: Loving Deeply

May slowed us down. We soaked in time with the people we love with long conversations, quiet moments, and hugs that lingered a little longer than usual. There’s a unique kind of grief in choosing something new when it means walking away from everything that once felt safe.

June: Standing at the Edge

June arrived faster than we were ready for. We said our farewells, boarded the plane, and stepping into the unknown.

Exhausted, overwhelmed, and holding our toddler close, we landed in China and made our way to our hotel. The travel was one of the worst experiences of our life, I don’t think I’ve ever been that sleep deprived before. That first night, standing at the window and watching the city move below us, we laughed and whispered to each other, “what did we just do?”

Part 2: The Adventure Begins

If part one was about asking the hard questions, this part is about what happened when we finally listened to the answers. Life didn’t magically become easy when we moved–but it became fuller.

July: Finding Our Feet

July was about finding our footing. I started my job, we explored the neighborhood slowly, and we began to see our city as locals do. We found favorite walking routes, little restaurants (and yes, we only ordered delivery for two weeks straight because we were scared to sit down in a restaurant with the language barrier), and familiar faces.

Without forcing it, we began to fall in love. Not just with the place–but with the way life felt here.

August: A Shift We Could Feel

August brought Bean’s second birthday–a moment that felt emotional and grounding all at once. I received my first paycheck as a foreign teacher, and something shifted. For the first time, weren’t just getting by–we were breathing.

We could save and plan, and for once we could imagine a future that didn’t feel so fragile. That was the first moment we wondered if two years might not be enough.

September-November: Becoming Rooted

By September, the intial newness of everything had softened. We weren’t just navigating a new place anymore–we were starting to notice the people, rhythms, and moments that felt less like observing and more like participating. With this steadiness came something new: the freedom to explore. For the first time in our adult lives, travel didn’t feel like a financial stretch or something we had to justify. It felt possible, natural, and built into our life here.

September took us to Shanghai, our first city outside of Nanjing. It wasn’t just exciting because it was a new city–it was meaningful because it marked a shift. We could move, we could explore, we could say yes without stress or guilt. Travel no longer felt like an escape from life, but a part of it. This has always been a dream of mine.

At the same time, our world at home was growing smaller in the best way. Work relationships deepened as coworkers became friends. Shared days turned into shared conversations, meals, and moments of understanding that only come from navigating something new together. There was comfort in building friendships organically–without force, without expectation–just through showing up.

And then there were the quieter connections.

The coffee shop owner who learned our order, got to know us, and enjoyed talking with Bean. The local mom I met through buying a baby carrier–what started as a simple exchange turning into real conversations, shared experiences, and warmth. These small, everyday interactions grounded us in ways we didn’t expect.

By October, we traveled to Beijing, and then came another shift.

Being there, immersed in history and tradition, we fell hard for Chinese culture. Walking through spaces layered with meaning, stories, and resilience gave us a deeper appreciation for where we were living. It wasn’t just about being in China–it was about understanding it, even just a little.

That trip added depth to everything. It made daily life feel richer, more intentional, and more connected.

By November, Suzhou felt like a quiet exhale.

Friends came to spend time with us there–people we’d met here, people who were becoming part of our everyday life. Wandering together, sharing meals, slowing down–it was simple and it was grounding.

In that season, we realized something important: we were surrounded by people with different interests, backgrounds, and life paths–locals and expats alike–but with a shared outlook. A belief that life doesn’t have to be rushed to be meaningful. We all wanted more than the typical “American Dream,” (or wherever you’re from) a dream that is unattainable for most.

These friendships didn’t replace anything from home. They expanded our world. By the end of November, it was clear: this place wasn’t just somewhere we lived–it was somewhere we belonged. Not because we had it all figured out (still far from it), but because life here felt aligned, balanced, and full.

This was the season where China truly became home–not in a loud way, but in a steady, unmistakable one.

December: Choosing Presence

December arrived with Christmas in Sanya and space to reflect. Six months ago, this place was a question mark. Now, it’s part of us.

We’re often torn between two homes–between what we left and what we’ve built. We still wonder if we made the right choice.

But when I look at who we were before–

Living paycheck to paycheck.

Layering side hustles on top of exhaustion.

Coming home with nothing left to give.

Quietly sinking.

And then I look at who we are now–

Present.

Financially steady.

Walking every evening until the sun goes down.

Laughing more.

Living slower.

We aren’t just surviving anymore. We are living. Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is choose the life that lets you breathe. And sometimes, that choice changes everything.

With love, The Eley’s