Home Is Where the Disconnect Is: Lessons After Returning from Strasbourg

The Noise of Returning 

Coming back felt like stepping into a storm I wasn’t prepared for. The world here is so loud—machines hum, conversations blare, and the news never stops. I walked into a grocery store, overwhelmed by shelves brimming with too much, and retreated to the vegetable aisle, hoping to find a quiet corner. Even driving feels foreign now—my hands grip the wheel tighter, my nerves fray. Nothing feels gentle. Nothing feels like home.

One adjustment has been particularly difficult: throwing everything into a single trash bin. In Strasbourg, sorting waste and composting were everyday acts that made sense, a way of living that honored the earth. Here, it feels like regression. Why aren’t we composting food scraps? Why does convenience trump care for the planet? It’s not just about the act of throwing things away—it’s the metaphorical weight of undoing habits that once aligned with my values.

The Ache of Isolation
The hardest part isn’t the noise or the pace; it’s the silence. In France, I was surrounded by connection—friends who checked in daily, strangers who became companions, and moments that made me feel part of something greater. Here, the silence is suffocating. Days pass without messages. Conversations are short and transactional. It’s not that people don’t care, but life here leaves little room for the kind of connection I now crave.

I try walking, hoping to find solace in the familiar, but the few sidewalks that exist lead me nowhere. I sit with my thoughts, but they press down heavily, filling the quiet with echoes of disconnection. How do you belong to a place that no longer fits the shape of who you’ve become?

Gratitude Amid the Noise 

And yet, even here, there are moments of calm that anchor me. Time with my grandmother has been a gift—her laughter, her stories, the way she reminds me of what matters most. I’ve watched the leaves change, their colors painting the days with beauty I can’t ignore. Gratitude whispers to me in these moments, reminding me that even in discomfort, there is something to hold onto.

But gratitude doesn’t erase the ache. It doesn’t quiet the questions that swirl in my mind late at night: How do I move forward here? How do I bridge the gap between who I was and who I’ve become?

The Weight of the World
Election season has cast a shadow over everything, a relentless cycle of impending doom that fills every screen, every conversation. I left the U.S. to escape the storm, but it followed me. Election night left me wearing a heart monitor, the stress carving its way into my body. Now, being back, the air feels heavier. It’s not just the politics—it’s the unspoken weight of knowing I don’t belong. Here, I have to temper myself, hiding parts of who I am to navigate a world that feels increasingly hostile. It’s a kind of exile, even in the place I once called home.

Questions Without Answers
Strasbourg gave me a mantra: live every moment. Here, I count the hours until it’s late enough to sleep, just to wake up one day closer to leaving. I know I’ll return to the life that feels right for me, but for now, I’m here, learning to navigate the in-between.

Have you ever felt this dissonance—the ache of returning to a life that no longer fits? How did you find peace in the in-between? I don’t have the answers yet, but perhaps the questions themselves are enough. For now, I’m holding onto the threads of gratitude, trying to weave them into something that feels like home.

Moving Forward 

This weekend, I pulled myself out of the haze, checking tasks off my list, planning ways to explore the city with new eyes. There’s still beauty here, I remind myself, even if it feels harder to find. I’m trying to live with intention again, to reconnect with the lessons I learned abroad.

The journey back has been anything but easy, but it’s a reminder that growth doesn’t end with distance. Sometimes, it’s in the dissonance, in the struggle to reconcile who you were with who you’ve become, that you find the deepest truths.

A Farewell to Strasbourg: Reflections on a Season of Transformation

The streets of Strasbourg feel different now. As the calendar inches toward my departure, I walk with a kind of reverence, savoring each cobblestone underfoot. The rhythm of the city has imprinted itself on me, becoming a pulse I’ve unconsciously matched over the months. Leaving—even temporarily—feels like loosening the grip on something sacred, something that has quietly shaped me in ways I didn’t know I needed.

This city became my sanctuary. Its riverbanks and cathedral spires were more than just scenery—they were witnesses to my journey. Strasbourg caught me at a time when I was unraveling, and instead of demanding anything from me, it gave me space to rebuild. It let me wander its streets with my thoughts, lose myself in its corners, and find myself in its stillness.

The Spirit of Connection

Strasbourg has a way of bringing people together. It’s in the small moments—the nod from a baker handing you a freshly baked baguette, the smile of a stranger as you pass on the bridge, the casual conversations that lead to something deeper.

This city taught me the value of connection, not through grand gestures but through the quiet consistency of community. My friends here became family, offering support and care that carried me through difficult days. They showed me what it feels like to belong—not through obligation, but through shared time and mutual respect. It’s these bonds, formed in a city that so easily opens its arms, that I will carry with me long after I leave.

A Space for Growth

Strasbourg also offered me solitude, a rare and precious thing. Here, I learned to sit with myself, to examine the parts of me that I’d been too afraid to face. Its quiet mornings gave me clarity, its winding alleys held my secrets, and its golden sunsets reminded me to find beauty even in endings. The city became a mirror, reflecting back not just who I was, but who I could become.

One of my favorite routines was sitting along the river with a book, watching the city come alive in the soft glow of the setting sun. Those moments weren’t just peaceful—they were transformative. They reminded me that healing doesn’t always come in breakthroughs. Sometimes, it’s in the steady rhythm of days, in the comfort of familiarity, and in the courage to keep showing up for yourself.

Gratitude for the Ordinary

As I reflect on my time here, it’s the ordinary moments that stand out. Walking through the Orangerie Park on crisp autumn mornings, sharing meals with friends over laughter and wine, or listening to the echo of the cathedral bells as they called the city to attention. These are the moments that stitched together my time in Strasbourg, creating a tapestry of memories that feel both fleeting and eternal.

I will never forget how this city allowed me to pause and just be. For a traveler who’s always searching for the next adventure, Strasbourg was the one place where I felt at peace staying still. It became more than a destination—it became a home.

Moving Forward

Tomorrow, I’ll say goodbye to Strasbourg, at least for a while. The thought fills me with a bittersweet ache. I know I’ll return, but this chapter, with its quiet beauty and profound lessons, will never come again. Yet, as I prepare to leave, I carry something intangible but powerful: the understanding that even in letting go, there’s growth. Even in leaving, there’s gratitude.

This city has given me a gift that no suitcase can hold—a deeper understanding of myself and the world. Strasbourg will always be here, but the person I’ve become because of it will go forward, seeking the same kind of connection, growth, and peace it so freely gave me. For that, I am forever thankful.