Trading Toronto for the Adriatic: My Journey of Starting Over

7 minutes

Written by: Annmarie Borosic

I’m two months into my new reality of living in Croatia. Since my arrival, I have been attempting to write this post every single day. Yet, for one reason or another, I just couldn’t. I’ll begin by quickly answering the questions that I find I'm being asked most often. No, I'm not married, No, I do not have children, No, I didn't move because I met someone, and no it wasn’t/isn’t easy because I’m Canadian (Croatian), or for whatever other theory. While I know the privilege that comes from being Canadian, nothing, and I mean nothing, in my life, came easy. There, now that that’s out of the way, I want to be as wholeheartedly honest with my experience. It will come in waves - my stories, the lessons, and the countless experiences. For now, I want to share what it was like leaving my home.

Firstly, I have wanted to live in Europe since 2010, Paris specifically. There is a huge difference, however, between wanting and then doing, I've found. That's obvious, right? Here's the thing, I am very close to my family. We are teeny tiny; my parents, my younger sister, and I. Then there are my close friends and best friend, who has also just given birth to her second child - I missed that milestone in her life. I missed my sister's 35th birthday, and I know there are so many more moments I will just no longer be a part of. That is the biggest challenge for me, and the reality of 'doing.'

There’s a saying, that everything worth doing comes with sacrifice. I never really thought I had sacrificed things in my life for anything I wanted. Perhaps I was naive or, didn't look at certain losses as sacrifice. I'm not sure. When the decision to move to Croatia magically appeared, it was a no-brainer for me. Definitely not for my family, however. I think they're still in shock. I knew less than a month in during my trial run here in Split that I would be moving. There was no doubt in my mind. Not for a second. Being in Split made me feel calm. I was comfortable, and there was a strange feeling that overcame me where I wasn’t ready to leave. That was my tell. Then came the reality of that decision.

The only people I’ve ever loved, have turned to and would see frequently were the very people I had to say goodbye to so that I could live a life that felt more like me. When I tell you that I cried every other day for close to three months, I. Cried. I’m talking, sobbing on my kitchen floor asking myself 'what the hell am I doing?!' It got to the point where I quite literally did not recognize my life any longer and felt as though I was in a peculiar daze. I would stare at my to-do lists and just go through the motions without feeling like I was accomplishing anything.

I knew when I returned to Toronto temporarily that it was go-time. I also knew that everything would come at me all at once. I had to find a long-term apartment in Split - which is nearly impossible during tourist season - find an occupant for my Toronto apartment, sell my car, find another job, finalize my permit paperwork, close down accounts, open accounts, finalize more paperwork, then review some more documents, and pack up both my apartment and my luggage. Alone. How I mentally survived the last month in Toronto, I'll never know. It's very much a blur at this point. Did I mention I had to finalize documents? That's still going. I laugh so I don't cry, ha.

At no point throughout those multiple breakdowns was there an ounce of regret, but I knew amongst all of the chaos, the goodbyes would be the hardest. It just felt like that is all I had been doing in the last several years - saying goodbye in one form or another. That was what I couldn't move past. The kitchen floor I sat on was in a space that I had made a home of; for myself and my two fur angels. It was the first home I’ve ever had on my own and something I am incredibly proud of. Charlotte and Adonis died almost two years ago. Those excruciating goodbyes had come and gone, and saying goodbye seemed to have become the theme within those four walls and on that kitchen floor. My apartment - every inch of it was done in such a way that would bring me joy anytime I looked at it. I had never imagined after a mere two years there, I would be packing up my life and moving on. Looking back now, it feels like such a paradox - being so happy and feeling a sense of pride in a place that eventually left a gaping hole of guilt, relief, and consistent grief. They were those moments that had also given me that final universal whisper - it's time to go, it's your turn.

I learned there was in fact sacrifice. A lot of it. I had to sacrifice the comfort of my family being close to me. I had to sacrifice being present for my best friend as she moved into the next milestone of her life. I’ve sacrificed money, career opportunities, and the safety net of the known for a city where I have no family, no friends, and don't know a single person - at least not really. Walking out of my Toronto apartment for the last time felt as if I was saying goodbye to who I once was, leaving that woman behind; the version that had carried me through life, helped me survive, succeed, and challenge me. As if that former version was saying, you're ready now, but I will always be here. And so I walked out and said goodbye to her and to the only life I had ever known.

I was absolutely terrified. I’m pretty sure I threw up at one point. You know what though? Throughout all of that, I'd periodically check-in with myself to see if what I was doing was what I really wanted. To know, it wasn't some rash decision that I was simply jumping into. I've waited for this opportunity for 14 years. Did I ever think it would have been Croatia I'd move to? Not a chance, but it was the right call. I was listening to who I was, who I am, what was most important for me as a human being, a woman, a dreamer, a realist. I knew wholeheartedly this was what I needed.

The days leading up to me leaving were filled with so much stress, stress I brought upon myself. My event planner brain (as I refer to it) was going through every single document, every email sent to solidify requirements, and every confirmation and translation, over and over and over again to the point where I wasn't sleeping, all because I needed to make sure there was nothing I was overlooking or missing. I packed and re-packed my four suitcases at least three different times, then once more at the airport for good measure - thanks check-in counter staff. If you're wondering what part of the airport experience was my favourite, it was the part where in the first three sentences upon handing over my passport, the check-in staff told me they might not be able to let me fly. My sleepless nights and paranoia were manifesting themselves. My biggest fear. Thankfully my paperwork was in order and that horrid sentence was unnecessary. I also took that as a little nudge from the universe to calm down and chill.

So why did I do it? To give myself a calmer life. To feel a sense of community; a deeply-rooted culture; to enjoy the little things in life, to experience a better quality of life, and to be closer to the sea. In reality, my skin and hair just prefer a Mediterranean lifestyle. 

Two months in and I’m happy. I’m calm. I’m still having a challenging time releasing the chaotic life and hustle mentality, but am slowly allowing myself to succumb to the ‘pomalo’ way of life here. My Croatian is getting better, albeit nowhere near where I’d like it, but it’s now all I speak when I’m out and about. I have the fresh sea breeze every single day and going for a dip in the Adriatic leaves me speechless and in sheer disbelief constantly. I don't foresee that going away anytime soon. 

I made a choice for me. I gave myself life again. An opportunity to be happy. I am where I need to be and as much as I know I have the support of everyone closest to me, it’s the little conversations, the little moments that I miss which make it hard. I just let myself feel where I am and remember the bigger picture. I'm finally living my life on my terms.