How I found optimism to return to a country wrapped in a blanket of dysfunction.
In just a few days I’m moving from my tiny apartment in the South of France where I live alone with my dog to another tiny apartment in Seattle with my dog and my soon to be former long distance boyfriend. Most of my American friends are questioning the move.
It seems normal to question such a big move. Except they didn’t question when I left. My return back on the other hand, well that’s a WTF in all capitals.
A lot has happened in the 3 years that I was gone.
A pandemic surged, Black Lives Matter gained their voice, countless adults were murdered, countless children were murdered, baby formula, tampons, and abortions became a challenge to obtain, and there was that ironic coup by a herd of angry white men that almost happened.
I suppose it’s natural, given the state of affairs, there would be a challenge to returning to a country to distraught. I feel challenged by it every day. The return is my choice. It’s a choice that I’ve invested in in spite of my love for living in Europe and in spite of my extreme disdain for American extremism.
We are too much.
We don’t have the ability to respectfully disagree and instead we demonize the people who don’t share the same opinions as we do.
Vaccine. Guns. Sexuality. Abortion. Drinking. Smoking. Education. Economics.
The need to control choice pulses through our veins and pumps hatred through our society so strong that we find ourselves in toxic opposition constantly. We are at war and we don’t even know it.
This war is the reason why I hesitate to return. To alleviate this hesitation, which normally just feels like gut wrenching anxiety, I search for specks of gold daily for a hint of hope.
Last week I found it.
There were two federal bi-partisan efforts.
For many these efforts weren’t enough or they went to far. That’s the American extremism at work. To, they were a signal that we are regaining our ability to find common ground.
- Do we agree that mass…