Don’t complain; do something about it.
That’s the promise I made myself earlier this week when I started the 21-day No Complaints Experiment because there really should be no downside to this lifestyle. Don’t like it? Change it.
I am a firm believer that we might not control how we feel, but we do control what we make of those feelings. Reading the likes of Ram Dass, Michael Singer, Mark Manson, etc gave me the words to better understand and embrace this ownership over one’s self. I surely was not born with it, but a series of tragedies and trauma taught me it. Life’s twists and turns can do that to a person.
So, instead of letting pain find me, I developed systems of self-thought that let me beat it to the punch. Get that last hug in before you leave because neither of us know when—or if—we will ever see each other again.
…Which you might say I took it to task today, but not regarding family nor friend.
It is the 31st of October 2024, fitting—perhaps—that it is Halloween Day and I begrudingly let myself open up the New York Times app to get a whiff of what’s to come next week in the US election.
I saw and felt exactly what I was expecting*: disappointment (*and also my own confirmation bias).
“How did it get to this? How is this even a question? How are we to recover from the storm to come… and what if we don’t?” Those familiar questions serving me no better answers than I had yesterday or 4 and 8 years ago when I asked the same things.
My absentee ballot was hand-delivered to the local US Consulate in Auckland, New Zealand last week; trusting it will travel well to its destination. I hope one little vote makes a difference. And, frankly, I hope I can avoid the unfortunate allure of doomscrolling like I did seemingly every day during the 2016 election and resulting term. I was taking screenshots of the latest ethical, moral, and mind-blowing scandals as if I was in charge of documenting the fall of the ‘western’ world like I imagine my great-grandparents did back in WWI or II clipping out newspaper headlines.
But I was not to complain this time. I was not to get bent out of shape again. What happens is what happens, and I can only control what I do with these feelings and my future.
Perfect time for the little voice in the back of my head to remind me, hey… wait… am I eligible to apply for NZ Citizenship now?
Trump first took office in 2017 and whilst everyone in the US was talking about moving abroad, I actually did (coincidence mostly)—immigrating to New Zealand. And I think it’s quite funny that now on the verge of the next monumental election, I’m taking it up a level to citizenship in 2025 haha.
This isn’t me running* from perceived problems back home, this is giving myself and my family more options (*after all, the USA and Eritrea are the only two countries in the world that still tax you every year just for being a citzen regardless of where in the world you live, so it’s not like I’m really able to get away—no, I’m reminded of that every April).
Here I am now, one click away from submitting my application for Dual Citizenship.
And… done.
That’s it. It’s submitted. Something I never in my wildest dreams thought was even possible in my teens and twenties until the day I met my Kiwi wife and realised there really is a whole world out there beyond the US border.
Nothing is more locked in at this moment than an Application Number, but what a Halloween day to remember—blending two cultures together, a pumpkin and a passport.
