Third and last day in Stockholm for a while. I’m very eager to get back home and back in my “comfy” routine.
That’s so weird to think about. I’m constantly under stress, my physical and psychological output is at least double what I output here, but it is my cross and I bear it with pride. Here, the bed is too soft, the office is too spacious, everything (while amazing) is not mine and is not home.
I remember having a similar feeling while living in England for 7 years. It was home, but also it wasn’t. I have many warm memories about England, but all have this underlying feeling that I’m out of place, that I’m not where I’m supposed to be.
Latvia has its flaws, it doesn’t really welcome, me… Because my mother is from Ukraine and my first tongue is russian, I am an alien in my own homeland. Made to feel this way by “actual Latvians” who on multiple occasions have told me to go back “home to russia”.
Despite that it is my home and even though I’ve had my share of living in other countries for longer periods of time, none have ever made me want to move for good.
Perhaps it’s Stockholm syndrome, maybe something else, but I’m rooting for this green little good for nothing country filled with racist/sexist small people.
I want it to succeed, I want to prove that you can have a good life in it, that the grass doesn’t have to be greener on the other side. I want its inhabitants to develop, learn and be happy with themselves and the world around them.
Yet despite this desire, I don’t really know how one can start working towards this hopeless goal.
I’ve been toying with the idea of writing a book. A collection of experiences which would probably make anyone curse, hate and abandon this country for creating an environment that can cause so much suffering. Despite that the book would be a love letter, admitting the hurt, overcoming it and outlining a hopeful future.
I don’t know if anyone would ever read it. But I feel it’s something I want to do for myself and for my son, who will unfortunately have to face some of the hate that I’ve felt.