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Ah, America—the so-called “land of opportunity.” Yet here I am, feeling like I’ve hit a traffic jam on Opportunity Highway, stuck at a blinking red light, endlessly waiting for it to turn green. Seriously, is this the American Dream? Because I’m beginning to think I might’ve ordered the wrong one. Once upon a time, I had a passport begging for mercy.
I’ve lived in some incredible places – Bobo Dioulasso, Ghirgho, Kigali, Arusha, and The Hague, to name a few. Each place taught me something new about the world and myself and how much I can accomplish when given the right opportunities…and a decent kahawa (coffee in Swahili). I had a UN gig. Yes, I saved money back then—can you even imagine? I was out there making a real difference, surrounded by people who cared about the world beyond their Wi-Fi signal. And let’s talk about vacations—oh, sweet international holidays when I could hop on a plane to a new country, immerse myself in new cultures, and save a few bucks. Now? My most exciting adventure involves a trip to Nordstrom Rack, where I might treat myself to an overpriced scented candle.
Then, like the plot of an awful sitcom—one where the laugh track is just me sighing heavily. I made the “poor decision” (yes, I’m calling it that) to move my family back to America, and it’s been a struggle. Economically and socially, everything that was once fluid and adventurous now feels stiff. America can offer opportunities and enjoyment to many, but not to me. I have always felt out of sorts in America. It’s unbelievable how folks can’t grasp the shame and disappointment I feel from not being able to secure another international opportunity, even though I know several high-profile global leaders, retired and current UN senior leaders, and US diplomats. Sure, I’ve got a leadership role at a nonprofit. Yes, I help people. And yes, I’m grateful. But let’s be honest: when you’ve been in post-conflict zones, escorting heads of state, and planning protocol for UN officials, running a Power BI report just doesn’t quite hit the same, you know?
Oh, and let’s not forget that nonprofits start with “non” for a reason. The work is fulfilling, but can we talk about the perks? I used to have time and money for actual self-care—spas, fine dining, and a robust investment portfolio. Now? Self-care is me taking a weekly African dance class and going absolutely wild by splurging on a $5 kahawa. Look out, world, I’m living on the edge!
And don’t even get me started on holidays. Remember those? In America, they apparently involve driving my mother around Arizona, hoping to spot wild horses. It’s a far cry from my days of jet-setting across continents. No luxurious trips, no exotic locales—just me, a tank of gas, and the vast desert. You can’t exactly put that in a travel memoir, can you?
Now, I’ve dipped my toe in the private sector before in NYC, and let me tell you, the water’s murky. It’s like the corporate version of quicksand—one wrong step and you’re sucked into a swamp of unconscious bias, cutthroat competition, and emails with way too many people CC’d. Sure, the pay’s better, but I’m not trying to join a gladiator pit. At my age, I’d rather be the wise sage on the hill—preferably one with good healthcare benefits that don’t include a high deductible and co-payments.
So here I am, an international soul stuck in the American grind. I miss the adventure, the community, the feeling of packing a bag and hopping on a plane to somewhere new. Now, the highlight of my week is getting through a Teams meeting without accidentally talking on mute. What happened to me?
But hey, I still have faith. Faith in God, who I trust, hasn’t forgotten me. I’m waiting, hoping, and praying for some change. Either He’ll open the door to another international opportunity (fingers crossed), or He’ll help me find peace in this American life that feels so foreign. Until then, I’ll keep daydreaming about those international escapades and plotting my escape from the monotony of suburban life. So, God, I know you are out there —I’m ready for a sign. Or a plane ticket. Either one works.
