0201: Held by Home

ATTACHMENT, IDENTITY & STARTING OVER
WITH DENAYE BARAHONA, PH.D.

Eden:
Hey, Denaye!

Denaye:
Hi, Eden. How are you?

Eden:
I'm good. I'm so excited to have you on with me today.

Denaye:
Yeah, I'm excited to be here and to talk about this topic.

Eden:
Before we jump in, I’d love for you to introduce yourself. Tell our listeners a bit about who you are, what you’re working on these days—let’s get acquainted.

Denaye:
Ah, the hardest question—summarizing myself in just a few sentences! Let’s see.
I’m a mom of two, living just outside of New York City now. My kids were born in Texas, though, which is how I know you. I think you might’ve been my very first mom friend—pushing strollers back when our babies were nine months old.

Eden:
Yes, I remember that so clearly. I think we really connected because we were both mental health clinicians, just starting out on the parenthood journey. That made such a difference for me in those early days.

Denaye:
Definitely. In addition to being a therapist, I’m the host of the Simple Families Podcast. I focus on topics like minimalism, child development, and behavior—really anything that supports parents in living simpler, more intentional lives.

Eden:
It’s been so fun to collaborate with you, and of course, I immediately thought of you for this conversation.

Denaye:
Yes, I remember those early days in Dallas so vividly. You had just moved back from Seattle, right?

Eden:
Yes—we had just returned, and I was newly postpartum. I remember spotting you in that mom group, feeling desperate for community as we settled into a new place. I forgot—was your daughter born in Dallas?

Denaye:
Yes, she was. I was about eight months pregnant when we flew in. Basically sneaking on the plane!

Eden:
(laughs) “Don’t mind me and my belly.”
So this first topic came up for me during our move from Dallas to Charlotte about a year and a half ago. I was surprised by the strong emotions it stirred—especially as a therapist. They felt like attachment needs, even insecurities. And I thought of you, since I remember you saying your move from Dallas to New York was also pretty emotional.

Would you share a bit about what that experience was like for you—leaving a place where you’d put down roots?

Denaye:
First of all—did I warn you it was going to be hard? If I didn’t, I’m sorry!
We moved five years ago, when my kids were one and three. My husband got his dream job offer in New York, and the same week, I was graduating with my PhD. It felt like the right move. We had loved Dallas, but it never felt like our forever home.

So we sold the house quickly, and on paper, everything went smoothly. But emotionally—I wasn’t processing anything. I was just checking boxes: packing, listing the house, launching my podcast, solo parenting. My husband moved ahead of us, so for a few months, it was just me and the kids.

We only made one trip to New York to scout neighborhoods. After that, I told him, “Please don’t come back without a house.” I didn’t want to be in limbo—living in a hotel or with family—so he bought one. And honestly, it wasn’t a great fit. It was a lot of house, high maintenance, and I was already stressed and isolated.

Eden:
That must’ve been so hard—leaving behind your village in Dallas and moving into a home that added more pressure.

Denaye:
Exactly. I underestimated how important that community was to me. In hindsight, I’ve realized there are certain life stages when building a village comes naturally—like freshman year of college or becoming a new mom. You’re going through huge transitions together, and that shared experience creates deep bonds. That’s what I had in Dallas.

Eden:
That resonates so much. I think I didn’t fully grasp how much you were navigating emotionally during that time. After you moved, we fell out of regular contact. But going through my own transition recently, I’ve been reaching out more—trying to rebuild those connections.

Denaye:
Yeah, and when we reconnected, it felt like no time had passed. That’s the power of those early, meaningful relationships. They endure. That’s your village.

Eden:
I’m curious—looking back, why do you think having a house right away felt so important to you?

Denaye:
I was afraid of being in limbo any longer. I’d already been living without my husband, waiting to sell the house. I didn’t want more months of uncertainty or crashing with family. I needed something that felt stable.

Eden:
That makes total sense.
We did the opposite when we moved to Charlotte. We intentionally rented—partly because the housing market was so wild. I thought I was fine with it until we bought our current house. That’s when I realized how much insecurity I’d been carrying. I hadn’t felt fully settled or rooted—like I couldn’t even paint a wall or invest emotionally in the neighborhood.

Denaye:
Yes! After we sold that first house in New York, we rented for a year. And it was such a relief. If something broke, someone else handled it. I didn’t feel pressure to decorate or make it perfect. But at the same time, that freedom also made me feel untethered. Eventually, I did want a sense of permanence again.

Eden:
You also mentioned how your identity and sense of self shifted through this move. I think that’s something people don’t always anticipate—how a relocation affects not just your logistics, but your whole emotional ecosystem.

Denaye:
Yes. I didn’t realize how lost I’d feel. I remember that first summer after moving—we had no childcare, and I was taking the kids to different playgrounds every day just to get through. I’d drive to a nearby town’s park, and there’d be a sign: “Residents Only.” It was such a shock after living in Dallas where everything felt open and accessible.

There was even one park where they checked IDs! I later learned it was because of summer camps, but in the moment, it made me feel excluded. And it wasn’t just playgrounds—story times at libraries were also restricted by town. I felt like I was constantly hitting invisible walls.

Eden:
That must’ve been so disorienting. Especially when you’re already trying to build a new life.

Denaye:
Yes, and it made me crave a close-knit community—where you run into neighbors, know their kids and dogs, where someone tells you if your kid crosses the street without looking. Eventually, we found that. We sold the first house, moved to a rental in a smaller village, and that felt more like home.

Eden:
What’s so interesting is that we’re really talking about attachment to places, but what makes those places meaningful is the people. The relationships, the village—that’s what creates the emotional root system.

Denaye:
Absolutely. And I think living in a city like Dallas gave us the privilege of being among so many people that we could find our community easily. In a small town, it’s different. Instead of thousands of new moms, there might be thirty. The effort to connect is real—and so is the loss when you leave those bonds behind.

Denaye:
Maybe those 30 people could have been a good fit for me, maybe not. I felt like I connected with maybe 6 out of the 10 people I met—but when your pool is only 30, that doesn’t leave a whole lot of room. I just didn’t have the breadth to find my way.

Eden:
And you really have to be willing to be vulnerable and take some emotional risks. It’s intimidating walking into a space where you don’t know anyone. I remember one of the first meetings was at someone’s house—I didn’t know the person, the area, or even where to park. I had to psych myself up just to walk through the door and make conversation, hoping one or two people might become meaningful connections.

Denaye:
Yes, and culture shock played a role for me. Moving from Texas to New York was such a shift. I’ll never forget that first summer. We moved in July, and I immediately started trying to get the kids into preschool. Everyone seemed so... harsh. The receptionist at the pediatrician’s office, the admin at the preschool—people just came across as short and unfriendly.

Eden:
I don’t get that!

Denaye:
Right? It took me a while to realize it was reverse culture shock. I had gotten used to this soft, nurturing Texas vibe, and I think I was just overly sensitive. Now, I don’t notice it at all—but at the time, it felt like everyone was rude. I'd hang up the phone and think, What did I say? Did I offend her?

But that moment stuck with me—filling out the preschool registration forms. One of the questions was, “Have your kids experienced any trauma recently?” and it listed examples like the death of a loved one, a natural disaster, or moving to a new house. I remember feeling so validated just seeing that. Like, Oh, this counts as trauma? That really shifted something in me.

Eden:
That’s such a good segue. What did you notice in your kids during the move? How did they process the loss of connections and the work of rebuilding?

Denaye:
Honestly, it was hard to separate their emotions from mine. I was so emotionally fragile at the time—stressed, exhausted, constantly feeding them frozen pizza. I think a lot of what I saw in them was just them mirroring me. Not all of it, but a lot. It’s hard to untangle—were they grieving the loss of home? Or just reacting to the fact that I seemed to have completely unraveled after a four-hour flight?

What about your kids? They were a little older, right?

Eden:
Yeah, they were around five and seven. We gave them several months' notice before we moved, so they had time to process. And we tried to keep them excited—we knew they loved houses with stairs, and our home in Dallas didn’t have any. So we found a rental with stairs and made that the big selling point.

Denaye:
The little things!

Eden:
Totally. But it was also important to us to model our own sadness. When we told them, we were both tearful and excited—and I think that helped normalize mixed emotions. They saw us having conflicting feelings, which helped them understand their own. And honestly, I think kids are often more adaptable than we are. They seemed to adjust quickly, even though I know they were grieving too—especially leaving family in Dallas, which was almost like a second home for them.

Denaye:
That makes sense. Our kids were the same—they’d refer to Dallas as “home” for a long time after we left. It wasn’t that they didn’t like New York. It was just... all their stories were rooted in Dallas.

Eden:
Exactly. I grew up there too. Even though I never had this dream of my girls going to the same school I went to, I think a part of me had unconsciously envisioned a future for them in that place. And leaving it meant grieving that vision—even if Dallas didn’t feel like our forever home.

Denaye:
Totally. Being so close to your old school, it’s easy to imagine your kids in those spaces. That becomes part of the picture, whether you meant for it to or not. Leaving it meant letting go of that imagined future.

Eden:
And professionally, that shift hit hard too. I’d built most of my career in Dallas—in-person work, a great community of colleagues, many of whom I met when we were all new moms. We went through that stage of life together. Leaving that felt like losing a big part of my identity.

Denaye:
For sure. I was always working remotely since we’d moved a lot, so I hadn’t put down the same professional roots in Dallas. But for you, it was so local and so relational.

Eden:
Exactly. And suddenly I was like, What do I do now? Who am I connected to?

Denaye:
And we can’t ignore that we had a lot of privilege in this whole process. Being able to pick up and try something new is a huge gift—but it comes with its own kind of heartbreak. It’s exciting, but it’s also really, really hard.

Eden:
Totally. We tend to focus on the shiny side—the adventure—but the hard parts hit just as intensely. I wasn’t expecting that.

Denaye:
Same. And we haven’t talked about how this impacted our relationships with our partners. Did you feel a shift?

Eden:
Yes. We moved for my husband’s job, and he was really busy those first few months. I remember telling him, I’m struggling, I need you, but he just couldn’t be as present as I needed him to be. That was hard.

Denaye:
For us, we were both mostly working from home. And since I had lost all my Dallas community, I relied on Michael a lot. Probably too much. He became my entire support system—and when we’d argue or have a hard day, it felt like my whole world was falling apart. That pushed me to start taking more risks and seeking out connection elsewhere. I had to find my people.

Denaye:
And even now, my sense of community feels so transient. The people I’m closest to are the ones I’m spending the most time with—usually other parents at school—but that shifts every year as our kids’ classrooms change. It’s this constant cycle of building and rebuilding.

Eden:
Right. When you move to a new place, you don’t know if it’ll be permanent. You just land and hope it fits, but that can change quickly. Needs shift, kids change, and you pivot again. It’s not like the fixed bonds of high school or college—it’s more fluid.

Denaye:
But I’ve come to really appreciate that fluidity too. I’ve met amazing people and learned so much. It’s just different—not better or worse, just different.

Eden:
Yes. Part of making peace with that is letting go of trying to recreate what you had before. Dallas isn’t here. But that doesn’t mean there’s nothing meaningful here—it’s just... new.

Denaye:
So thinking back—what would you tell someone moving to a new place, looking to create connection when they feel totally untethered?

Eden:
Give yourself a lot of grace. It’s going to feel like flailing sometimes, and that’s normal. Be open, show up—but don’t force connections. Not everyone will be your person. And be prepared to mess up. If you’re coming from a different region, you might not understand the social norms—and that’s okay.

Denaye:
That reminds me—when I moved from Chicago to Dallas, I had no idea about the local etiquette. Once I co-hosted a baby shower with like ten other women, and it was so elaborate. I suggested we cut the flower budget a little—and I seriously offended someone who said, “Flowers are one of the most important parts of my life.” I had no idea! Things are bigger and better in Texas—including the flower arrangements.

Eden:
What makes those missteps harder is how much is riding on these connections. When you’re new, everything feels more vulnerable, and a small mistake can send you back into your shell. That’s why grace—and time—matter so much.

Denaye:
Yeah. For me now, my strongest connections are with the other parents at school. That could change again next year—but I know I have people like you in my life, people I can count on even across the distance.

Eden:
Okay, any other practical advice? Things you did—or maybe wish you hadn’t?

Denaye:
Well... we knew our first house wasn’t going to be our forever home, but we spent a lot of time and money trying to make it feel like it was. We decorated, renovated, made it “ours”—but it just wasn’t the right fit. The town didn’t feel like us. And even though it looked perfect on the outside, it never felt like home. So I’d say: don’t try to force a fit. Listen to your gut.