The final straw

It’s been a long time coming. The final few weeks of me and my daughters stint here in the US. What started out a journey filled with hope, has turned toxic poisonous and volatile. From previous posts, I’ve found it really difficult to get close to and trust new people here, thus the friend circle for myself now is quite small. Thats by choice. Because when you get to your late 30’s, time is precious and I don’t really waste it on those who can’t commit to a quality friendship, an outing, cancel plans or change things in the last minute to suit themselves.

I’ve given notice at my job, I’m winding down with work and making plans to ship a whole lot of stuff back home to ensure we can be tied over until my husband ships all of our furniture in February. My work has been absolutely amazing with being flexible and understanding to why I am going back home. I am so grateful for that. With the finish line in sight, I am considering just laying low with minimal human interaction until that day where we drive to SFO and fly the hell out of this place. From November 2016, the country has been in a slump. And it is a rolling slump of despair with the civil unrest plaguing society. Emotionally. You see it on the faces of the people you know, and complete strangers.

People here are RUDE…just a general observation! And I thought maybe I was being super sensitive to how people are in SF, but my manager also confirmed it for me one day when we were chatting about the state of the city and those who reside in it. The homeless on the street, the busy rushing rude people on the sidewalks. There is no order to the society which lives here. I got pushed out of the way today getting off my ferry because a woman thought whatever she was writing on her mobile phone was more important than looking up and paying attention to what was going on around her.

I am tired of it. I have turned into one of those sad faced humans that has RBF almost permanently. I can’t help lament for the life I would have had back home in Perth by now, for my daughter, for my health. America is not a happy place. Over the last week or so, California has suffered some of the worst wild fires and all of us down here in The Bay are stifled with air we can’ breath. Just when you think you have your health & your families health on track, then the very air you breath is compromised. You can’t leave your house in fear of breathing in the toxic smoke. Making your way to work each day is a large effort.

And finally, which was unexpected, the wrath I feel I have encountered from supposed “friends” here from us soon departing. Smart ass remarks about our departure are not welcomed. You may think America is this giant shiny diamond of which you never want to leave (half the population here don’t even have passports), but coming from somewhere which closely resembles a tropical oasis, America is a lump of stinking coal, which is yet to be purified. Making general plans is a massive effort. Coordinating a simple mid week outing is an overt exercise. It was never this complex back home with friends. Or maybe I have just given up. Thrown my hands in the air and said “fuck this”. With these feelings and thoughts, I’ve been this way for too many months now. It’s draining, its depressing. I can’t invest any more energy into this.

In this defiant tone, this is the final straw. It is the long awaited goodbye. One which I cannot wait to happen. Returning back to my homeland and regaining some kind of civil life with the friends and family I truly love has never looked so promising.


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