I Don’t Know How to Come Back to America
Grappling with how to bring the lightness I’m feeling back to a country heavy with devastation.
Dear friend,
I do not know how to come back to America.
There has been such relief in escaping, such joy in logging offline, such power in saying “not now, I’m writing.”
I owed no time to family, friends, business or politics.
I basked in the privilege of simply getting to write, eat, and heal.
I’ve felt younger, lighter, saner, healthier, and happier.
How do I bring this lightness back to a world that feels so heavy?
Every single day, I sat in deep gratitude for the opportunity to simply be an artist in residence. I could not do this without community support. My sister watching my dog. My neighbors checking on my home. My clients honoring my need for creative time. My parents giving me pesos to help pay for food while I’m down here. My friends and readers cheering me on.
And every single day, I thought about those who did not have the same fortune as me. Immigrants forced out of their country by violence only to find even more in the USA. Parents working two jobs each just to go deeper and deeper into debt to afford the bare necessities. Minnesotans trying to stop what feels like a civil war happening in their streets.
I don’t know how to reconcile the profound internal change that has happened to me over this month in Mexico with the devastation that is happening back in the USA.
The degradation of due process. The stripping of basic human rights. The kidnapping of a foreign government’s head of state. The threat of war (for what is saying you’ll annex a neighboring country if not declaring war on them?). The rising unchecked power of the president. Thousands of emails showing just how depraved men with wealth can get.
It’s hard to list that all out without feeling like a paranoid conspiracy theorist.
It is hard to read that and not want to burn it all fucking down.
And then there is the pressure of daily life.
There are bills to pay, a business to run, friends to support, a dog to walk, groceries to buy, meals to make, toilets to clean, family to see, relationships to foster, parties to attend.
I do not know how to take on the weight of life again.
Yes, I cannot wait to cuddle my dog and take long walks in the park.
Yes, I am looking forward to seeing my family and visiting friends.
Yes, I can’t wait to go back to queer line dancing at the gay bar near my house.
I’m even eager to get back to School for Writers®, helping creatives build resilience and get their stories out into the world.
But all of that at once?
It’s a lot to hold.
This Is Not New to America
We were built by old white men who hated paying taxes, loved guns, traded people like property, decimated native civilizations on purpose, and assaulted women – often young enslaved women – without consequence.
We hadn’t fixed that legacy, but we had made significant progress towards the promise of life, liberty, and justice for all.
Progress that is backsliding rapidly in the name of making America great again.
Great for whom?
It does not feel great to go home right now.
It does not feel safe to go home right now.
This Is Not New to Me
This is not the first time I have left my country and returned with a new perspective. It will not be the last.
As much as Mexico feels like home sometimes, I am a citizen and resident of the United States. I don’t want to abandon my country – I want to go back and fight for the rights and safety of myself and my neighbors within it.
My home is flawed, but it is mine.
My country is far from perfect, but I am proud of our founding principles of individual rights, separation of powers, checks and balances, and no one – even the president – being above the law.
Those values are enough to make me feel patriotic. Those defining principles are worth fighting for.
This is why I went to law school. This is why I’m a life-long activist, even if a reluctant one sometimes.
And this is why I’m going back with a renewed commitment to protect those values and principles.
Because I want to keep having a home to come back to.
With love and perseverance,
Lauren
P.S. I’d love to hear how you’re finding lightness in this heavy world. Let me know in the comments.
Sharing Is Caring
There is no one clear solution to holding the heaviness that we are all feeling right now, but these three things help me:
Journaling – you can get my course for free right now with code “love”.
Reading – you can see some of my favorites here.
Actively building creative resilience – and I have a free toolkit to help you do that.
However, the biggest needle mover by far is community.
When the world feels heavy, we often retreat into ourselves, but that’s when we need human connection the most.
Organize a potluck.
Have friends over to do crafts and chat.
March in a rally.
Support your local library by using its resources.
Take a dance class at a gay bar or cultural center.
Attend an event at your local independent bookstore.
These are all things I’ve done over the last year and they’ve all made me feel lighter, less scared, and more hopeful.
They’re the types of activities I’m going to lean into when I’m back in the states.
Life is heavy right now, but I have faith that we can hold it together.
Got more ideas for building an even stronger community right now? I’d love to hear them in the comments.