In 2007, my husband’s wanderlust led him from his hometown of Prague to Manila, where he and I met.
When we started dating, he reassured me that he’d never tire of living in my country, but that changed a year later, when we took a trip to Europe together.
We had a drink with one of his former colleagues, who’d worked with him in Manila but later moved back to Europe. The inconsequential €6 beer for our friend was more than a whopping PhP300 for us. We realized that while this friend had moved on to earning a salary with a stronger currency, we weren’t in as strong a position.
By May 2009, he had moved back to Prague for more lucrative career opportunities. I continued working in the Philippines, where I had built my career in acting. We dated long-distance for a year and a half before he flew to Manila with his family so we could exchange wedding vows.
I followed him to Prague shortly after, full of hope but unaware of how many challenges awaited me. I had to reinvent myself in an entirely new country and, over the course of our relationship, learn to navigate the nuances of putting my family before my career.
Relaunching my career in Prague came with pleasant surprises
I knew Prague would be a completely different city from Manila, but I hoped I could replicate my work as a performer over time.
As an English speaker, the language barrier was a major hurdle. I spent two semesters in language classes developing a functional level of Czech. Prague had a thriving Czech-language theater scene, but I found enough opportunities where I could perform in English.
To my surprise, moving to Prague came with unique work advantages. While I’d done on-camera work in Manila, I never landed a commercial for a brand. Beauty standards in the Philippines tend to favor those with fairer skin, so I often lost roles to people who looked more Eurasian. In Prague, however, I found that my Southeast Asian heritage appealed to brands seeking a diverse set of actors.
I booked a handful of commercials during the four years I lived in Prague, and it became my major source of income.
After the challenges with the language barrier, I was pleasantly surprised that I could keep working as a performer in theater and on-camera in Prague, but I had to be bold and proactive when it came to seeking out contacts and opportunities.
My husband got a job in Switzerland, and I had to reinvent myself again
By 2014, my marriage was suffering from the strain of unexplained infertility. As a form of “marital therapy,” we took a summer tour, spending several weeks in Norway, Switzerland, and Malta.
My husband liked Switzerland and applied for a few jobs there after we returned home. Before we knew it, he was offered a role at a bank, and we both relocated to Zurich that year.
This time, relocating put my husband and me on equal footing, both of us struggling with another language and figuring out how to make friends.
It took many years to build connections as a thespian in Manila and I had to do it at turbo speed when I moved to Prague. Starting from scratch a third time didn’t appeal to me, so I thought I’d revisit my love for writing.
Two months in, when I discovered that a group of migrant women wanted to build a book together, I offered to step in as co-editor, and they accepted.
I spent the next decade building up my writing credentials, from travel articles to sharing my interests on my blog. I’m often tempted to go back to performing. I was good at it and I often miss it. But life can be unpredictable as an actor, and the hours are often unsociable. My husband and I finally conceived in 2019, and I knew going from production to production wasn’t conducive to the family life I wanted. Plus, I love my new identity as a writer because it helped me develop different skills.
Instead of competing with my husband about who had a more successful career — something I unconsciously did in Prague — I’ve let him become our provider. He’s established himself in the corporate world, while I rely on freelance income. Our wage gap makes me judge my prowess as a professional at times, but I insist on not living in that headspace and choose to find joy in earning a side income. I contribute to our household, but still have the time and flexibility to raise the child we fought to have.
I don’t regret choosing family over my career
Ultimately, I’ve prioritized my family over my profession, which has been very rewarding. I’m learning to view my husband’s success as mine, and he’s responded with the same excitement for my writing milestones, such as the 2026 launch of my debut picture book.
Moving to Prague and Zurich with my husband and becoming a “trailing spouse,” a term I both love and hate, has taught me about letting go, shedding the identity and pride I had as an actor. It’s challenged me to reinvent myself and persevere in new spaces. In gradually switching from stage to page, I’ve had to show up, do the work, and be ready for opportunities when they arrive.
And although I spent my 20s and 30s with an ambitious, career-driven mindset, I’ve now made peace with letting go of the relentless pursuit of success, at least the kind that is defined by cars, cash, and careers.
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