Missing Europe and What Could Have Been

Mike enjoying the fruits of his labor
(yes, that is a bride at a bar mitzvah)

Mike has been working some crazy hours.  We think this is what happens when one becomes an adult.  We don't like it but we're accepting it, for now at least.  Since Mike started his job in mid-April, he's been working six days a week and at least 12 hours each day.  Crazy, right?  Happily, this past weekend was the last event he has on until September and yesterday we received word that the end of these crazy work hours just might be nigh.  More importantly, we're looking at the possibility of actually getting some paid time off over the July 4th holiday.  I was initially very excited upon hearing this news because I love to plan our holidays but, after just a few hours, my excitement has turned into a whole bunch of other feelings.

I'm not sure if I've discussed the utter devastation we experienced last year when the UK eliminated our visa scheme, essentially destroying our 20 year plan.  Perhaps due to the mind switching into survival mode, and all our efforts being focused on our forced return to the US, I may not have mentioned our heartbreak, or at least not harped on about it.  But, now that we've come out the other end and staunched the downward spiral, I would like to state, for the record, how utterly devastated I am that we gave up everything for only a two and a half year experience.  I could've accepted the absolute loss for a 20 year adventure but for just two and a half years?  Perhaps time will change my mind but right now I'm not fully convinced it wasn't an absolute failure.

To be honest, Dundee was horrid.  Even with my sweet government job, we were still two people living on one person's very low salary in a horrible small town surrounded by scary hillbillies.  We lived in almost complete isolation during this time and, with the bulk of our two and a half years abroad spent there, this may explain my feelings of resentment, remorse, and anger.

Once we got down to London our fortunes changed immensely and, had we not had to save every penny for our imminent transatlantic move, we would've been living quite comfortably.  We had an apartment we liked, great friends, and jobs we both loved.  We were able to experience what could have been for about 6 months, and it was very nearly perfect and exactly what we had hoped it would be.  Losing that reality is no doubt the source of my sadness.

The Plan had us living in London for two years where we would've, with no doubt in our minds, been very successful.  If The Plan had been allowed to continue I would've accepted every sacrifice as having been worthy but that's not what happened and today we find ourselves worse off than we were as newlyweds, back in 1999.  I can't help but compare where we were to where we are.  Living abroad is different; because we had never been there before we had no basis for comparison.  But, starting over in an American city; we've been here before.

As I begin to plan our first real holiday since returning to the US I can't help but recall our recent past and how it could have all been very different.  If we'd gotten to stay in the UK, I'd be comparing Portugal to Croatia or Finland to Austria.  Instead I'm comparing Boston to Providence and Maine to Vermont.  There was a time when our current situation - living in New York, comparing east coast cities for upcoming holidays - would've been acceptable and exciting but after everything we've been through I can't help but feel like a giant failure.