Walking away from the lives we build: Saying goodbye to Sweden, and new beginnings in the United States

They say quitting is a virtue, so I’m happy to say that over the years I’ve had good practice walking away from previously established plans, particularly when it comes to big choices in my life and career. Perhaps the first notable example stretches back to my adolescence, when I decided not to pursue my bachelors at an art school, listening to a tug in my soul telling me I needed to continue to study science. Years later, facing my impending college graduation, I realized that a career in physics was not the right fit for me, requiring yet another major life pivot. I even wrote about quitting my travel blog, the very first post on this site, and the decision-making process that helped me close the book on travel writing.

Recently, I’ve walked away from something else quite important: my life in Sweden. The decision feels right, though it certainly wasn’t an easy decision to make. In this post I reflect on the nuances of choosing to build a life abroad, and the nuances of choosing to leave. While my experience is not generalizable, I hope it can provide another perspective for anyone weighing the trade-offs of where to call home, wherever that may be.

On moving and remaining abroad: chasing degrees amidst complex geopolitics

I moved to Sweden in the summer of 2023 to pursue my master’s degree. Continuing my education had been an intention of mine basically since finishing my bachelors nearly ten years earlier. Concurrently, moving abroad and embodying a more global perspective was both a professional goal and a personal dream. Combining the two seemed ideal and opportune, so I decided to apply to master’s programs across Europe.

Actually landing in Stockholm, however, was driven primarily by my strong desire to study at the Stockholm Resilience Centre (SRC). When I learned about the work of the SRC and the breadth and rigor of the research being conducted there, I thought to myself: “This is where I need to be.” Needless to say, I was thrilled to get accepted into the SRC master’s program a few months later. On August 1, 2023, I arrived in Sweden for the first time in my life, nervous and excited to embark on this new chapter.

Doing this master’s program was, for me, an extremely positive and enriching decision that I would make again in a heartbeat. I loved being in such an open and exploratory academic environment where I had the chance to research whatever interested me, in my case urban resilience to extreme climate events. The master’s was also a phenomenal social experience, and I went through the program alongside a wonderful cohort of classmates, some of the brightest, kindest, kookiest people I know. However, life in Sweden was not without its ups and downs, and I particularly struggled with the weather, the bureaucracy, and many Swedish social norms.

In the second year of my master’s, I was faced with another decision point: what to do next. At the time I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go or what exactly I wanted to do. Should I do a PhD? Should I stay in Europe? Should I move somewhere else? Should I get a fulltime job? Should I stay in research? Should I… Questions of this sort ran through my head almost daily, all while trying to focus on completing a master’s degree.

At the same time, global politics were top of mind. The second Trump administration began during this time, and like watching a child stomping on a carefully constructed sand castle, I watched with horror from afar as the sciences in the U.S. were ruthlessly attacked. International funding mechanisms, including those that I had worked with in former jobs (such as USAID) were effectively shut down overnight. Friends and colleagues back home lost their jobs; those whose jobs remained were tense with worry. From outside the U.S. looking in, as a professional in climate research, I questioned whether I would be able to have a career and a future in the U.S. at all.

Although I knew that Sweden was not the right place for me long-term, I decided to stay in Sweden for an additional year following the master’s. As a non-EU citizen completing a Swedish master’s degree, I had the option to apply for a year-long “job seeking residence permit” following my studies in Sweden, which would give me the opportunity to find a job in Sweden, or at least figure out my next steps while retaining my residency in Europe. I applied for the permit, and finished my master’s. Then, finally, I allowed myself to return to my many what-ifs.

Winding down in Sweden: career surprises, challenges, and shifting perspectives

My third year in Sweden had a completely different tenor to my first two years. As a master’s student, I had a clearly defined purpose in the country: go to school, get an education. I had a distinct place where I was expected to be everyday. I had classmates to convene with and researchers to learn from. I was, quite simply, part of a community.

Once the master’s concluded, that community largely disappeared. My majority-international cohort, which formed the backbone of my social life in Sweden, quickly dispersed, as many of my classmates had similarly struggled to acclimate to life in Sweden. By the end of the summer after the master’s ended, our group had dwindled substantially, a loss that those of us remaining in Stockholm felt acutely.

Meanwhile, I had a career to pursue. The master’s had left me absolutely enamored with research, and I wanted to do a PhD. I started applying to opportunities, in Sweden, in other countries in Europe, and in the U.S. And in the meantime, I looked for whatever work opportunities spoke to me. I applied broadly, to consultancies and fulltime jobs, waiting to see what would stick.

What stuck was the last thing I expected: a consulting opportunity with the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP). I applied to a role with UNEP’s cities team, never thinking I would get hired without knowing somebody who worked there. My consultancy ended up lasting seven months, and the work was fascinating – I led the development of a digital platform on urban nature restoration in cities around the world. However, it was a fully remote role, completely independent of my life in Sweden.

To my great surprise, as this consultancy ended, another began, and as that one ended, a third began. I had managed to sustain myself as an independent consultant, and all of my clients were international. I was thrilled to be doing meaningful work, but working independently was also isolating. I had no colleagues to bounce ideas off of, no officemates to turn to with questions or concerns. I utilized a coworking space in Stockholm, but it was a lonely experience, and removed from the normal perks of Swedish working culture, such as generous paid time off and healthy work-life balance.

During this time, I continued to apply for jobs in Sweden, and interviewed for a number of positions at research institutes in Stockholm, including the SRC. But, for better or for worse, none of those opportunities came through. I found Stockholm’s landscape for sustainability work to be rather constrained. For my specific niche, research and programmatic work in urban sustainability, climate resilience, and sustainable development, there were only a handful of organizations to choose from, and job postings were rare. Language barrier was also an issue. Although research institutes like the SRC conduct work in English, without professional proficiency in Swedish, my options at international NGOs in Stockholm became even more limited. On top of this, my immigration status was posing a problem. As a non-EU citizen, I was applying for jobs in a climate of extreme anti-immigrant sentiment in Sweden, with strict salary minimums and contract specifications in order to obtain a work permit. In spite of having a master’s from a Swedish university and a significant amount of work experience under my belt, all of these conditions made the professional landscape in Stockholm rather antagonistic. It was hard to sustain enthusiasm around a career in Sweden, so I directed my focus towards my consultancy work, where I was actually seeing results.

At the same time, I was homesick, although at first I tried to deny it. Towards the start of my third year in Stockholm, I found an opportunity that I just had to apply to in the U.S. (in my old home of New York City, of all places). At first I was reluctant; I felt I had just moved out of the U.S., and the prospect of moving back after finally settling in Sweden seemed like a reversal of effort so colossal, I promptly dismissed it. But the thoughts persisted, and over time I started to re-imagine a life for myself in the U.S., with its unique benefits and challenges.

And as the months went by, certain decisions coalesced. I decided against a move within Europe, realizing that undergoing another immigration process – learning another country’s systems, likely dealing with another language barrier – just didn’t feel right. I began seeing more and more interesting fulltime jobs and PhD programs in the U.S., in urban sustainability and climate resilience, the very opportunities I had feared would not be viable under a climate-antagonistic administration. I also reflected on my homesickness; saying goodbye to my parents at the end of trips back home had gotten progressively harder. And coming to terms with some of my own goals and dreams, including the desire to one day have a family of my own, made me reflect on what kind of life structure I wanted and needed to make that a reality. The U.S. doesn’t have the same robust social benefits or parental leave that Sweden boasts, but it has something invaluable to me: familial and social support. Meanwhile, the things that I found most challenging about life in Sweden, such as the weather and the social dynamics, only became more difficult for me over time, such as a pattern of severe seasonal depression that began every year as early as late-summer.

In spite of having known for some time that Sweden was not my forever home, it was still hard to walk away. But it became easier when, in spite of my misgivings, I accepted the prospect of returning home, realizing that the U.S. could offer me much of what I was craving: family, community, and career opportunities.

New beginnings in the United States

I moved back to the U.S. three years after first arriving in Sweden. Saying goodbye to Stockholm, even knowing that it was the right decision, was still difficult. I arrived in Stockholm knowing nobody, and managed to not only obtain a degree but build a whole life for myself: forging important relationships, finding community, building up my career in fundamental ways, learning a completely different system, and indeed embodying another culture and way of life.

Adjusting to life back in the U.S. after living abroad has also been a process. I’ve returned to New York City, which could not be more opposite to Stockholm: loud where Stockholm is quiet, chaotic where Stockholm is orderly, yet also teeming with energy so different to the pace of life in Stockholm. I’ll miss many things about Stockholm, especially my dear friends who remain in the city, the canvas of yellow and orange buildings on a sun-soaked afternoon, and the magical quality of a city spread across islands, with abundant forest paths seemingly straight out of fairytales. I’ll miss the punctual Tunnelbana and the exceptional bike infrastructure, the safety and the peacefulness, and the freshly baked bullar in every cafe.

Now wandering the streets of New York City at the start of this new chapter, I am grateful to be back. I recognize that this decision comes with a tremendous amount of privilege, not only to choose to move abroad for my career, but also to choose to move home, an option not always available to those of us who migrate. It is not something I take lightly, and reinforces my gratitude. These days I feel optimistic about working in climate and sustainability, in spite of the present politics. After three years of fighting to connect, of vying for something as simple as eye contact, the remarkable openness of people in the U.S. is a breath of fresh air. And sitting outside in a t-shirt on an August evening, a warmth in the air even as the sun sets, I’m grateful to be back in a place where summers are hot. Where winters, although cold, are nowhere near as cold as in Stockholm. And where I feel, finally, at home.