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I Moved Abroad For A Better Life. Here’s What I Found Disturbing During My First Trip Back To America.
I had my first panic attack on I-85 in Atlanta.
Gripping the steering wheel of my huge SUV rental car, surrounded by six lanes of aggressive traffic near Midtown, my chest tightened as my brain struggled to process the sensory overload. Eight months in the Netherlands had rewired me in ways I hadn’t realized until that moment – when the sheer American-ness of it all came crashing down around me.
When I left America last spring for a safer home for my family and a better quality of life, I thought the hardest part would be adapting to life in the Netherlands. Learning Dutch, navigating the health care system, building a new community — these were the challenges I’d prepared for. Nobody warned me that coming back would be what left me in tears.
The traffic incident was just the first crack in the facade. Later that week, I drove 20 minutes to meet my oldest friend for lunch at a restaurant. As the waiter arrived with plates piled impossibly high with food, the conversation turned to her daughter’s college preparations.
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