Moving to a developed country made me question what it really means to “live better”
My octopus version. Photo credit: SCHM
The invisible logistics of an ordinary day
Some mornings I wake up a little earlier and cook before taking a shower. Not because it’s the most urgent thing to do, but because I don’t want to spend the rest of the day with the smell of food in my hair. Other days I cook at night and shower again afterward; I don’t like going to bed carrying that smell after a long day.
Between one option and the other, life slips in.
I take my dog for a walk. Between coaching sessions and work meetings, I make progress on whatever family project we’re working on at the moment — these days, it’s the remodeling of my kitchen. I answer emails, talk with family and friends, have lunch with my husband. I write when I can. I go to Pilates. And when the storm demands it, I shovel snow.
In the middle of all that, I clean, organize, and manage the comings and goings of my three children’s sports activities. I fold clothes fresh out of the dryer and, if time allows, read a few pages of a book.
In my head something is constantly happening that will probably feel familiar to you: I prioritize, reorganize, and move pieces around. My schedule often feels like a small game of Tetris where responsibilities, relationships, work, and rest all have to fit into the same twenty-four hours.
Time is finite. We all know it.
And let’s be honest — who hasn’t had that fleeting thought that it would be ideal to do just a little more in a single day?
This morning, early on a Sunday, I’m writing more calmly. My son’s soccer game was canceled because of the snow.
Living between two worlds
This way of organizing life became especially clear after I moved to the United States.
I’m Peruvian. I lived more than twenty-five years in Chile, and for the past seven years I’ve been living in Colorado.
Moving here didn’t just mean changing countries. It slowly forced me to recalibrate my internal compass about what it really means to live in a “developed” country.
For a long time I believed — like many people do — that development was a straight line toward a more comfortable life.
But experience has taught me something different.
Development feels more like a system of trade-offs: you gain some things, and you give up others.
And many of those differences show up in everyday life.
The middle-class paradox
Take something as simple as household organization.
In much of Latin America, when both parents work, it’s relatively common to have some form of help at home to ease the daily load. In the United States, however, that is largely a luxury.
The middle class in developed countries often has higher incomes, but much less help.
The result is that families like ours end up doing almost everything ourselves: we work, parent, cook, clean, fix things, and manage the entire logistics of family life.
When I talk with other Latin Americans who live here, I often hear the same phrase:
“We have more opportunities, but we also do much more ourselves.”
Sometimes we joke that living here feels a bit like the startup world: everyone does everything, all the time.
It’s not always just about resources. While it’s true that an hour of household help can cost several times more than in many developing countries, there’s also something deeper at play: an economic and cultural structure where self-sufficiency becomes the norm — almost a Do-It-Yourself ethic.
I confess that, despite feeling deeply grateful for the opportunities, there are days when my most demanding “octopus version” wishes it had a ninth and tenth arm just to keep up with everything.
What GDP doesn’t capture about well-being
When I step back and look at the bigger picture, however, I understand the other side of the trade-off.
Global studies like the World Happiness Report highlight something interesting: the happiest countries are not simply the richest ones.
The difference often lies in factors less visible in economic statistics:
social support,
trust in institutions,
everyday safety.
In my case, I traded the convenience of household help for another kind of well-being: the peace of mind of walking down the street without fear, access to high-quality public education, and the relative stability of institutions that, for the most part, function. I say this from my own experience, of course; I know that for many people — even living here — that reality may feel far away.
That kind of well-being doesn’t show up on financial statements.
But it changes something deeper: the everyday sense of stability.
The line between wanting and needing
This experience also opened another important conversation in our home: the difference between wanting and needing.
Modern consumer societies have an extraordinary ability to blur that line.
As a coach, I often observe that wanting tends to be fueled by ego or social comparison. Needing, on the other hand, is usually connected to our deeper values.
We need:
safety
connection
purpose
rest
But wanting isn’t inherently negative.
We want to travel, celebrate meaningful moments, and treat ourselves to experiences that enrich our lives.
A trip, for example, may not be a basic need, but it can be a deeply meaningful experience.
The challenge isn’t eliminating our wants.
It’s not losing sight of what truly matters while we pursue them.
Learning to say: “this is enough”
Development can give us access to many things.
But the real skill lies in knowing which ones truly add value to our lives.
Perhaps in a country of abundance, one of the greatest freedoms is being able to say honestly:
this is enough.
Along the way I’ve also learned something personal: to recognize and appreciate the good things I do each day.
Not the perfect ones.
The good ones.
My “octopus self” will always want more arms. But I also know that’s impossible.
So I return to a simpler place inside myself where I can say:
It’s okay.
This is enough.
More than enough.
And from there, something else naturally appears:
gratitude.
My husband just sat down next to me and read these lines.
He smiles and asks:
“So… do you want a housekeeper?”
“No,” I reply. “I love our privacy. I want a robot!”
I pause for a moment.
A robot wouldn’t guarantee that complete privacy either.
So I think again and correct myself:
“Actually, what I want is a clone. But I’m not sure you could handle another Sofía.”
We laugh.
And I realize something.
Neither the robot nor the clone is the answer.
The answer remains the same: learning to navigate this Tetris board with what I have, appreciating what I’ve gained and accepting — with kindness — that embracing my inner octopus is simply part of my own way of living better.
✎ If you’ve lived in different contexts:
what did you sacrifice or gain in the transition?
And if you haven’t had that experience:
how do you define your own version of “enough” today?
#Mindset #CalidadDeVida #VidaEnElExtranjero #ExpatLife #Bienestar #VidaCoach
