• My partner lives in a spacious house in rural Colorado, and I live in a condo in Boulder.
• We haven't found a place that fits both of our needs yet, so we're content living 45 minutes apart.
• There are challenges, but we enjoy spending lots of time at each other's homes.

Every weekend, my partner makes the best breakfast: over-medium eggs, handmade tortillas, and fresh hash browns.

We often eat outside thanks to Colorado's bright, sunny days, then we'll walk around the lake, watch some football, and spend the evening roasting marshmallows over the fire pit.

Then, when Sunday night arrives, I get in my car and drive the 45 minutes back to my dream condo to get ready for the week ahead.

My partner and I met at work 13 years ago, and we intend to spend the rest of our lives together, but we still live apart. We know each other's rhythms, quirks, and needs, and have no secrets, just separate addresses.

I often joke that we're in a "middle-distance" relationship. At least we're in the same state, but it's also not always easy or convenient to drop by for dinner.

Living apart lets us each keep a home we love

Both of us are divorced, and we both love the houses we have.

My partner lives in rural northeastern Colorado and bought his home after his divorce. It's bigger than mine, with a huge yard and a custom-designed patio built for entertaining.

His neighborhood isn't exactly walkable, but he's originally from a small town in Texas, so he doesn't mind driving longer distances to get to places he wants to go.

Meanwhile, after my divorce, I moved back into the Boulder condo I had been renting out while married. My unit is smaller than my partner's, but I love its mountain views and proximity to all my favorite places, like my go-to local bakery.

It needed a lot of work when I moved back in, but I invested in new paint and flooring to really make it mine again.

I want to stay close to Boulder, and he wants a big house. The tight, expensive housing market has made it tough to find a new place we both love.

Though we've toured many houses together over the last six months, we haven't been impressed by any of them enough to leave the places we've already made our own.

Our setup isn't as tough as people think

One thing that has made this arrangement easier is that we're used to living out of our suitcases. I'm a professional travel writer, and he works for a company based on the East Coast. We also love to explore new places together whenever we can.

When we are both home in Colorado, we've found a routine that has worked pretty well for us. My partner often spends some weeknights here, where we're close to restaurants, friends, walkable downtown Boulder, and other things to do after work.

Then, I'll go up to his house for quiet, relaxed weekends, and to watch my favorite team on the 100-inch screen (go Raiders!). We also tend to entertain at his bigger house.

Both of us get bored easily, so having a change of scenery and routine keeps life feeling fresh. My 14-year-old pug has adapted, too, and travels with me between places.

To make things easier, I've bought duplicates of staples like deodorant and an electric toothbrush, so I'm not schlepping them (or forgetting them!) every weekend.

That said, there are challenging things about our setup. Packing up every few days can be a hassle, and it can be stressful to land at the airport and decide which house to go to, especially when I miss both my partner and the feeling of being "home."

We always make an effort to overcommunicate our plans and extend understanding whenever one of us just needs to get home to do a load of laundry.

We'll find our dream home eventually

Every day, I'm scrolling listings that meet both our picky criteria and calling up agents for showings, but so far, we haven't loved anything as much as our current homes.

It sounds frustrating, but we both think this is a pretty good problem to have: It gives us more leverage in the homebuying process and means we don't have to settle for something that is only half-right or makes just one of us happy.

We're confident that we'll find a home that fits us both, but in the meantime, navigating the middle-distance has only made our relationship stronger.

• After my husband lost his job, we moved across the country and into my mom's one-bedroom apartment.
• My husband, toddler, and I live in her living room, and it's not always easy sharing a small space.
• However, the arrangement has come with lots of benefits and we've been able to get back on our feet.

7:30 p.m. marks the start of my son's bedtime routine.

First, I pull out our pillows and bedding from under the chaise sofa bed, which I share with my son.

Once our makeshift bed is set, I close the curtains separating it from the rest of the one-bedroom apartment. The tiny living room becomes our private oasis.

I can almost forget we're at my mom's place, sleeping on a convertible sofa she'd originally bought for our annual visits, while my 6-foot-3 husband sleeps on his own air mattress on the ground right next to us.

After my husband lost his job, moving in with my mom seemed like the right decision

Squeezing into my mom's small Boston apartment was never the plan.

Right after I graduated from college, I had moved to California to chase my Hollywood dreams of becoming an actor. During my two decades of living on the West Coast, I met my husband, got married, and became a stay-at-home mom.

However, our lives were turned upside down in 2025 when my husband lost his job. For the first time, we really started thinking about moving to Boston, where I had grown up and my family still lived.

I figured it would give us more flexibility with childcare, and a fresh start in a new city might be what we needed.

When I called my mom to tell her about our plans, she was thrilled. She'd been telling us to move to Boston for years, and said we could stay with her in her one-bedroom apartment until we found a new place.

So, we booked one-way tickets to Logan Airport and moved in with my mom.

It's been challenging for all of us to share a one-bedroom apartment

Arriving in Boston was exciting, but the transition to sharing a one-bedroom apartment was trying — we took over the entire living room. The room became cluttered, with our clothes and suitcases spilling into the hallway.

My mom expressed concern about the mess, so we rented a nearby storage unit for most of our belongings. Still, though, the things we need daily seem to take up a lot of space.

Sharing a one-bedroom apartment required an adjustment not just for us, but for her too.

For example, my son's early bedtime closes the living room off to my mom's nightly TV watching. Honestly, it still feels awkward to kick my mom out of her own living room because I have to put my toddler to sleep.

Plus, my mom is an early riser, often getting up at 6:30 a.m. to clean and run errands.

I can hear the sounds of domestic life filtering through the curtains that separate our "room" from the rest of the home. Cupboards opening, dishes being put away, and the smell of morning coffee lingering in the air like a wake-up call.

When tension rises because of our conflicting schedules and differing routines, I've learned to take a breather and step outside with my son to go for a walk or a drive. It often helps to ease the tension and remember this arrangement is only temporary.

However, it's also nice having my mom's support, and my son has gotten to know his abuela in ways that wouldn't have been possible from across the country. She watches him while I take a shower and go to in-person or Zoom job interviews.

Every night, while I'm getting the living room ready for bedtime, he goes into her room and cuddles up next to her while she watches TV.

Even though things aren't perfect, the arrangement is worth it

At first, being back at my mom's house after so many years of independence honestly made me feel like I somehow failed at life. By 40, I thought I'd have a successful career and a home of my own.

Now, though, it's been seven months since we arrived in Boston, and honestly? We're thriving. My husband found work, my son loves his preschool, and I've been able to focus on my career aspirations.

What I've learned through this whole process is that it's OK to lean on family when necessary, and even though we're still hoping to get our own place sooner rather than later, I know moving back to Boston was the right decision for me and my family.

• My husband and I moved from the US to the Netherlands without seeing our new apartment in person.
• We encountered lots of surprises, like the lengthy Dutch application process.
• Although we love our apartment, we've had to get used to a few cultural differences.

After living as digital nomads for nearly two years, my husband and I decided to move from the US to the Netherlands.

We'd visited several times and fell in love with the walkability and bike culture. Plus, I have a connection to the country, since my great-grandparents were Dutch.

With the help of a real-estate agent, we found an apartment remotely from the US, signing a yearlong lease in the city of Utrecht before ever setting foot in the home.

We encountered some surprises while looking for an apartment

Since the process of finding an apartment abroad can often take months, we chose to search remotely from the US. To make things easier, we hired a Dutch real-estate agent with local connections who could view apartments for us in person.

The prep work was much more intense than I was used to. In the US, I've leased apartments in three different states, and the extent of the application typically included filling out a basic form and sometimes completing a background check.

That wasn't going to cut it in the Netherlands.

Our agent gave us a long list of materials to prepare, from 12 months of bank statements and links to our LinkedIn profiles, to a "get to know us" letter, which included our hobbies and photos of us. Then she went looking.

Rentals often get snatched up within a few hours or days, so my husband and I were regularly waking up at 4 a.m. in Colorado to read our agent's emails about the new listings each day.

When we finally found one that checked all our boxes, we asked her to schedule a walkthrough. Luckily, she recorded a video for us to review, so we didn't need to wake up early for this part of the process.

It was during the walkthrough, however, that we learned Dutch apartment listings aren't as detailed as the ones we were used to in the US. When our agent arrived, we discovered the listing had omitted several important pieces of information.

For example, there was a fully fenced-in back garden, complete with a shed, picnic table, and blackberry and rose bushes. The kitchen had a dishwasher. And there was a washing machine hidden away behind a cabinet door — and a dryer (which is not as common in Europe).

Score, right? So we jumped at the opportunity, put in our bid, and jumped for joy when our offer was accepted.

Despite a few setbacks, we fell in love with our apartment

We arrived in the Netherlands a few weeks later, traveling directly from the airport to our rental. When we unlocked the door for the first time, hoping we'd fall in love with our new home, it was … freezing.

Turns out, the heat had stopped working, and the rental company couldn't send someone to fix it until the next day. So, we spent our first night in the Netherlands at a hotel.

Thankfully, the heat was fixed the following day, and then we could start unpacking. This is when we began to notice some of the more nuanced differences of a Dutch house compared to an American one.

The first thing to get used to? The alarmingly steep stairs (a hallmark of skinny, tall Dutch houses) which made moving furniture up to our second-floor office feel like a Herculean feat.

We also learned to accept moths and gnats as houseguests, since Dutch windows don't typically have screens. However, with no air conditioning and a 100-year-old house that was built to retain heat, we definitely want to keep those windows open.

Overall, aside from a few stowaway insects and some hot days, we've been very fortunate with our rental. I particularly love the neighborhood and how we can walk to a grocery store, bakery, or park within five minutes.

The biggest lessons have come from being part of a Dutch neighborhood

Although finding our rental was a whirlwind process, I've found the most interesting parts of living here have come from the cultural differences between American and Dutch neighborhoods.

For example, shortly after arriving, our neighbor invited us to the neighborhood WhatsApp group. If you need to borrow a drill or lose your cat, you send a message to the group.

It's very active, and joining the group helped me feel like I was part of a community before knowing anyone here. Although I've heard of similar groups in the US, I've never been invited to join one.

Ordering packages is also very different. Back in the States, packages would be left by my door. In the Netherlands, however, they aren't left unattended.

Instead, the delivery driver will start ringing the neighbors' doorbells until someone is home. Then, they'll leave a digital note about which house has your package.

One place I didn't expect to feel such a contrast is the sidewalk. On sunny days, my Dutch neighbors bring out their dining room chairs, park them on the bricks outside their front door, and enjoy a cold drink. Sometimes, it'll feel like an impromptu block party — and I couldn't be happier to join in the festivities.

After leasing an apartment across the world, sight unseen, would I do it again? I sure would — especially if I could hire a real-estate agent to check out the home in person.

The quirks of our apartment and neighborhood are all part of the experience of living abroad, and although I may not have expected them, I've now grown attached to these cultural differences.

• I spent my 20s climbing the career ladder and building the life of my dreams in Scotland.
• Then, after losing my dad, I decided to make a big change: I moved abroad and went back to school.
• I've been struggling financially, but I know that I made the right choice.

For most of my 20s, I wanted to climb the career ladder — and hoped that as soon as I reached the top, everything would become clear and I would live happily ever after.

My life felt like it was headed in the right direction. I was on a steady, exciting career trajectory in the climate policy field. I even bought my first flat in an up-and-coming area of Edinburgh.

Then, my dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer in late 2022. The next few years were spent grappling with his illness and, eventually, his death.

I quickly felt the whole ecosystem of my life fall apart. I was struggling at work, and I didn't know how to ask for help. I tried my best to carry on as normal and try to convince myself that the work I was doing — and, by extension, myself — was important.

As I edged toward my 30th birthday in early 2025, against a backdrop of grief and burnout, the need for change felt urgent and existential.

I made a drastic change

It was shortly after this, in the spring, that I decided a move abroad was exactly what I needed.

I quit my job and spent the next few months sending applications to schools across Europe, hoping to pursue a master's degree in my field and embark on a fresh start.

When an offer came from a university in Budapest, I knew that was where I would be going. I had visited for the first time about a decade prior, and fallen in love. I remember thinking, "I could see myself living here one day," not thinking that that "one day" would ever actually come.

In September, I packed up my life, started renting out my Edinburgh flat, and made the move.

The first few months brought a mix of excitement, fear, and disbelief. There was a lot of bureaucracy to navigate — forms to fill out, applications to be processed — and I couldn't relax until everything was completed.

I was also pretty lonely in the beginning. When I first moved, I didn't know a single person in Budapest and had to build a completely new social circle from scratch.

I also sometimes felt like an imposter: I was a lot older than the fresh-faced students in their early 20s who made up the bulk of my classmates. It felt like I was in a completely different life stage, and I was worried I didn't fit in.

Financially, the move has been difficult

Once I got settled, many of my anxieties subsided. I loved my new flat and enjoyed going back to school and learning new things.

Unfortunately, the hardest part — finding work — is ongoing. I figured I'd be able to get a part-time office job while I completed my degree, but it's been difficult. I've had to rely on my savings much more than I expected.

I've done what I can to get by. This summer, I worked long hours at a temp job; I've also worked as a teaching assistant at my university and done some voiceover work. However, none of this compares to what I used to earn as a full-time employee with a senior title.

And although the rent in Budapest is generally a lot lower than in Edinburgh, my general cost of living still feels pretty high, particularly when it comes to groceries and daily expenses.

This sense of financial precarity is difficult, and it's definitely not sustainable long-term. I'm lucky to have some income from my renter in Edinburgh and savings from my years working full-time — but there are still moments when I feel very acutely aware of the security I left behind.

I'm making less money now, but I'm happier than ever

Despite the erratic, unsteady, and low-paid nature of all these jobs — or maybe even because of it — my attitude toward work has changed.

For so many years, my job was all I talked and worried about. I felt like what I did defined me as a person.

My jobs now might not be as "stable" or consistent, but I no longer view my career as my identity. Instead, I think of my jobs as a series of experiences — some good, some bad — that have made my world bigger and my life richer (unfortunately, not literally).

My attitude toward spending has changed, too. In the past, I would spend money on clothes, nights out, expensive nail salons, and vacations without really thinking. Now I'm much more frugal and intentional about my money, which I think is a good thing.

Most of all, though, my move forced me out of a comfort zone that was becoming increasingly less comfortable. Starting fresh somewhere new — and making my life here work, even amid the challenges — has shown me that I'm more resilient than I ever thought I could be.

I know now that no matter what gets thrown at me, I will deal with it somehow.

At times, I wonder how much easier my life would be if I had stayed where I was — and if I'm being honest, the answer is probably "a lot." But I am so glad I didn't choose the easy option.

I'm on track to graduate next June, and I am excited about what lies ahead. I'm not sure yet whether I'll explore opportunities elsewhere in Europe or perhaps move back to the UK — but I hope that no matter where I end up, I will return more confident and self-assured than when I left.