Last year was a pivotal year for me. I made some very big, very scary choices. One of them was to permanently move from my temporary home in the UK back to the EU, to the country I fell in love with, and to the man who loved me, just outside of Warsaw in the beautiful countryside of Masovia.

Still. It was terrifying. Despite my due diligence in investigating the pros and cons of making this move over the course of a year, I had my hand forced when my friend (from whom I had been renting two rooms since I fled Sweden in the summer of 2020) said she needed to double my rent from £600 a month to £1200 because of the cost of living crisis.

I let her know this was not a tenable price for a room-renting / house-sharing situation and gave her my notice. But, I never had any intention to remain in the UK, blighted as it was by its foolhardy departure from the EU and everything rapidly falling apart under one new country-wrecking PM after another.

So really, her rent hike only served to expedite my move. But not to another rental in the UK. I made up my mind. It was time to stop weighing the pros and cons and go to the country that made my soul come to life and whose beautiful nature filled my creative heart with imagination and joy. It was time for courage.

Once I made up my mind, I felt relief because the UK post-Brexit was depressing. I wanted nothing to do with that sinking ship. I wanted out. I had wanted out ever since I landed in 2020, but my divorce forced me to sit there for almost two years until my ex couldn’t drag it through court any longer and I could finally start to think about healing, and putting myself (and my ruined finances) back together again.

During my sojourn in the UK, I went to the mountains in the south of Poland for a month (in fact, I am currently writing this right now from the very same spot) to rest and to write my book The Lost Letters, to help other women see the red flags of a toxic narcissist, cope if they are caught, the aftermath of what they will face when they are discarded, and how to find themselves again once they are out the other side.

That month-long stay in the autumn of 2020 was my first trip to Poland, and I fell in love with Poland’s beauty, tranquility, and simplicity of life. It was like Sweden, only without the Swedes (or the insane cost to live there). I knew those beautiful mountains would one day be my home. I just didn’t know how I would make it happen.

That was two-and-a-half years ago. It took two years for me to realize my dream of being a resident in Poland when I moved here for good at the end of September 2022 - and a whole lot of courage. Remember, I moved to Sweden to be with the man who ended up abusing me and leaving me with nothing, which meant there was a symmetry to my decision to accept the offer to move into my partner’s home that brought with it acute wariness.

To say I have a patient partner would be a massive understatement. Not only has he handled my moments of real fear and reassured me over and over he will never put me on the street as my ex did, but his mother and father support me and care about me as well. He even went so far as to legally register me to his home, which means he cannot remove me from the property, only I can. When he explained what he did, I cried. I hadn’t felt secure in years. And here, in one huge act of trust, he basically handed me the keys to his home. I had more rights with him in a few months than I ever had in Sweden with my husband of ten years.

None of the behaviors that I faced in Sweden from my ex or his parents were being realized here. It took time, EMDR, and medical care, but my triggers slowly, and quietly calmed down. I didn’t jump as much at loud noises. I didn’t scream as much from nightmares. I realized I was beginning to do more than just function like a robot, simply going through the actions of living. I felt myself coming back. My imagination, long dormant was beginning to reawaken.

I felt calm. I started to do things I used to enjoy. I colored. I played World of Warcraft (I’m not very good at it, but I love the lore, working through the storyline, and collecting pets). I read through a pile of books. I watched K-Drama. I didn’t feel judged, or fearful of the next wrong move that would net punishment.

Going back to my abrupt move from the UK to Poland. It was easy enough to stash what little furniture I had into a container until I could afford to move it to Poland. And what I felt others could make good use of, I gave away. I gave away many things in those short weeks prior to my departure. I made a lot of people happy. It felt good and liberated me in a strange way. I only kept my antiques and those items that really held the most value to me. It turned out not to be much, after all.

But the tricky part about moving out of a post-Brexit UK is when you have two cats. Those of you who have followed my journey from the beginning will know that I fled Sweden in between the lockdowns of 2020 with three cats (my third cat, Neh’h died in January 2022 of illness).

My departure from Sweden was a total nightmare, not least because my ex hounded me every step of the way (including taking my car from me on a legal technicality so I had to rent one at great expense) but I needed the protection services present the day the movers arrived to take my things to make sure I was safe and make photographic evidence of what I had left behind (which came in handy later on when the court case dragged on simply for the purpose of bankrupting me).

Now, I had moved cats before across countries, but always when the UK was part of the EU. Even when I entered the UK in July 2020, it was relatively easy to enter the country with pet passports that were up to date with vaccinations, and microchip information.

But none of that mattered now. If I wanted to take my cats to Poland, I needed to go through a whole new routine to get my cats on the way that involved getting a 16-page document filled in (in Polish) for each cat, plus brand new rounds of rabies injections because my Swedish pet passports were useless now (since UK was no longer in the EU). Worse, these papers had to be done 24hrs before the animal left the country. Stress galore.

I did my homework. I contacted the transport company that I used to get my cats from Sweden to the UK. They couldn’t help me because they were not going to Poland when I needed to travel.

I contacted the airline and discovered LOT amazingly allowed cats in the cabin, but only two animals per flight and one in each class. I told my partner about it and he agreed to fly over to bring back one of the cats with him while I brought the other. Everything was looking awesome. Until…

They told me about the weight restriction. I did the math.

The cat and the carrier (I bought Sherpa), can weigh no more than 8kg in total (17.5 lbs). And they do check. (In fact, when I turned up to check in, I had to put my cat carrier on the luggage weight scales and was told if Nova had been over the limit, they would not fly her, which would have been a total disaster).

Well, this was going to be a problem. Nova would be easy since she is tiny and weighs about 3 kg, and with the bag, she was a comfortable 5.5kg, well within the allowance. Ninya was another story. Ninya is a big girl, weighs nearly 6kg all by herself, and she is far too big to be squashed into the Sherpa bag size they allow for the 14 hours the entire trip would take door to door. But anyway, she was over the allowance by a good half kilo. No flying over for her.

I went back to the transport company. They said maybe they might have a trip coming up in October because they would be doing a run to Ukraine to pick up animals to bring back to their owners who had fled the country. I told them to sign me up and to make sure they could take care of all the necessary paperwork that has to be done in the 24 hours before departure. They agreed.

My friend was more than happy to take care of Ninya in the interim. She made noises about wanting to keep her, and at the time I admit I took it under consideration, but my gut told me Ninya belonged with me, even if it was going to be another stressful trip to get to me. My friend was very disappointed but when the time finally came (and it was incredibly short notice, we had one hour to prepare Ninya to be collected), it was a stressful, messy situation and one that caused a permanent fracture between my friend and me that never healed.

Ninya was finally on her way, but I had very little contact with the transport company or the driver. I lived in limbo for days not knowing where in the EU she even was. Then I finally got a notification she was in the country and would be delivered that day at 4pm. My joy was soon replaced by anxiety as the hours rolled by and no delivery. I went and stood at the end of the lane in the freezing cold and dark, eagerly watching for the lights of the transport van to arrive. I checked my phone a hundred times.

Finally, when my fingers, toes, and nose were completely numb, and three hours after the appointed delivery time, I got a message. The driver said he was outside my property and couldn’t find my house. I checked the location he sent me. He was miles away. In another city. Despair. I sent him the address for the third time. Panic took hold, maybe he wasn’t even there, maybe he would never come and I would never see Ninya again.

I ran back to the house, to my partner who had just greeted our overnight guests. I was incredibly stressed, close to tears and certain I would never see Ninya again. The whole transport had been a debacle, even how it began was crazy. I never felt worse or more powerless in my life. Terrible stories formed in my mind, how I had been conned, and she was gone, sold for her beautiful fur.

My partner rose to the occasion. He wrote to the driver, who had tried to find the house again and had gotten himself thoroughly lost in the middle of the countryside. I had no idea where my cat was or how to get myself there. My partner decided to take me there and left our guests to fend for themselves. The whole way in the car I felt a terrible fear, that we would get to the remote spot in the middle of a forest and there would be no van. This was it, the moment of truth.

My partner murmured something about how we should have found the van by now, but only darkness lay ahead. I started to cry, my worst fears were confirmed. I had sentenced my poor cat to a terrible fate. And then, my partner said. Wait Wait Wait… I see something in the distance.

And there it was. The transport van. And my little girl inside it.

A quick hello to the driver and he turned the van around and followed us back to the house. And then, the door was slid open, and she was there, among a selection of cats and a dog, all looking bewildered in their cabins.

She cried as I carried her into her new home, and smelled of urine where she had peed on herself, but otherwise, she was safe. I settled her into her room and she ate a hearty meal, and purred with contentment. I cleaned her up as best I could and left her to herself to adapt to her her new environment and meet her sister again.

And so, after five days of great uncertainty, my girl was finally safe and sound in Poland. It cost me a month’s salary to get her to me, but it was worth every penny. She is my forever girl, and has settled in to her new life beautifully. She adores my partner and follows him everywhere, and hearing him talking to her is just about one of the nicest things in the world for me.

At last, we are all safe, and we are home.