Regarding learning to drive, it was never deemed a priority for me, no more than getting therapy was. I lost five years of my life to major depressive disorder as a result, and became a prisoner of my house when my husband and I moved out of the city to a small semi-rural town.
It may not feel like it but you seem to be doing well, even if your acclimation process is painstaking and slow. You are surrounded by people who care about you and this is priceless.
For me, immigration to America felt like an organ transplant that didn’t take. I came back to Europe at the end of 2018 because my stepmom is gravely ill.
Unexpectedly, I’ve been coming back to life ever since, too, surrounded by all the suppressed, repressed, and forgotten parts of my identity. I’m back to leading a multilingual life chock full of culture, curiosity, and connectedness. I still don’t drive and yet I’m always on the move.
I’ve also been an American since the end of 2016.
And now I’m yet another expat.
It suits me fine. There’s a lot of joy and a lot of love on this side of the Atlantic, so much I’m inclined to think it is where I belong…