Telling My Family I've Decided to Quit My Job & Move Abroad

When I was 25 years old, I decided to tell my family I decided to quit my job and travel the world. I had an H.R. job working in a non-profit in NYC. I had a job in what I studied. I was working at a company that was doing its part in helping the world be a better place. I even got to travel to Kenya and Peru for work. I had great co-workers, friends hustling in the city, and I was in the greatest city, NYC. I was doing the thing, but I was unhappy. Something was missing, and the office job, as I said so many times, was soul-sucking.

I started to get depressed, losing myself in work, and I could not help think there has to be more to my life than this. Working the 9-5 life was not my passion. I knew I loved to travel. I loved learning about cultures and new experiences, but that is not a job you find on indeed.com or LinkedIn.

One of my goals in life was to live abroad, so I started to play with the idea of moving abroad for a year. I already had my TEFL from when I volunteered in Bali two years before. I researched, thought about it, meditated, prayed-I did everything, and finally decided to send my application to CIEE the Chile program.

Telling my Latinx family, I am quitting my job.

That was the easy part. Now the hard part, I had to tell my boss, friends, and Latinx family I wanted to quit to travel the world. My friends and boss were supportive of my decision to leave. I was afraid to tell my parents.

A little back story, I am a first-generation American. My mother immigrated to the U.S. at 9 years from Colombia and my dad at 14 years old from Ecuador. Although they grew up here, they still had a certain mentality regarding the American Dream. Their dream was to watch their children, specifically their firstborn, graduate college, get a job, work at the job, get the 401k, move up the ladder be financially stable, you know how the story goes. And here I am about to come and dismantle that dream to tell them I want to travel the world.

So, I told my mom first. I knew it would be easier. She also shares a love for travel, so I hope she would understand. She took it better, but I could see the nervousness and hint of sadness. Maybe it was because I was moving to another country, but I knew what she was thinking. For me, it took a while to find a job after college. The journey was not easy, so it was a complete shock that I wanted to quit after almost two years, but she did her best. She said the magical words ‘I support you,’ but just as quickly, she added, “if you do not like it, you can go to grad school. I think her reasoning and perhaps negotiating with me the curveball of uncertainty I threw at her.

Next up: Dad.

Now, I prolonged telling my dad for as long as I could. One day at work, I decided to rip the bandage. During my lunch break, I went to the water. I worked on Wall Street so you could walk 5 min and see a beautiful view of the Brooklyn bridge, and I called my dad. I started with, “Dad, I am quitting to move to Chile and travel the world.” I gave him the whole spiel trying to minimize the blow and any questions after that. When I finished, some silence followed with a very loaded one-word answer, “Why.” I knew what the ‘Why’ meant:

Why do I want to leave my job?
Why do I want to move to another country?
Why do I want to teach?

After the money questions came.

What is your salary?
How will you support yourself?

As I answer all these questions, all I can think of is the disappointment in his why. The conversation lasted maybe 30 min. He said ok, “I can’t entirely agree with you, and you will do it anyway.” This wasn’t the last of the conversation we had a few more before I left.

Here’s the thing.

As a 25-year old, I thought he doesn’t understand me, that struggling artist vibe. But, as a 27-year-old today, I realize why. It’s deeper than strict parents or parents wanting the best for you. It was their view of the world, and also the expectation of me after so much sacrifice.

The American Dream

I was giving up on their version of the American dream. Their parents and families brought my parents to the U.S for a better life. Not necessarily for themselves or my parents but for me, their children.

My parents moved to a better neighborhood for my brother and me to have access to better education. They worked their way up in the food industry to managerial positions, were they capped because of sexism and racism. My parents did not have the opportunity to finish college. They dealt with racism from neighbors, co-workers, bosses, school administrators, so my brother and I could have all the opportunities they did not, and here I am ‘throwing it away.’ I had shattered their dreams at the cost to follow mine.

I get it.

If you are a Latina, Latinx, first-generation, I understand that pressure, fear, and emotions that come with telling your family you want to do something different. If you find that in your pursuit of making other people’s dreams come true, you start to lose yourself, and you feel a calling to something else, maybe that is a change in careers or quitting your job to travel the world. You are not alone in telling your Latinx family.

They might not always get it. Your family might try to convince you to get a job or go back to school. Be kinder than I was, understand where they are coming from. You are dismantling old beliefs that immigrant parents were sold on and redefining what the American dream is to you. They came for their children to have the opportunities they didn’t have. Well, being born here in the U.S allowed me to go and work and teach abroad easier than if I was born elsewhere.

Your family will come around. As for my family, my mom is there. She even visited me in Chile. My dad still holds on to the fact that when I am 30, I will make NYC a permanent home and get a real job. We hold on to what we need to. He is a work in progress, but I think he will get there.

So do the thing, but make sure that thing is yours.