Living in Sweden as an American is a bit like stepping out of a chaotic rock concert and into a perfectly tuned string quartet. You’re still vibrating with noise, but suddenly you can hear yourself think. And you realize- maybe for the first time- that the noise wasn’t normal. You’d just gotten used to it.
Sweden isn’t perfect. No place is. But after years of the American grind- this place feels, dare I say, civilized.
Here, healthcare is a right, not a privilege or a GoFundMe campaign. Maternity leave isn’t a corporate negotiation; it’s a given. Childcare doesn’t cost more than rent. People actually take vacations- real vacations, not the kind where you bring your laptop “just in case.”
In the U.S., we call these things “benefits.” In Sweden, they’re just… life. It’s not utopia, but it’s a functioning society where the baseline assumption is that humans deserve dignity.
I’m not saying this to brag. I say it with gratitude and grief. Because I made it out. And I know so many can’t.
I think of the single moms working two jobs with no childcare. The teachers underpaid and over-armed. The families one ER visit away from ruin. I think of my own past self, believing burnout was a badge of honor and that asking for help meant weakness. It’s not weakness. It’s a system built to break people, and it’s working as designed.
As James Baldwin wrote, “Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.” Living abroad doesn’t mean I’ve stopped facing it. It means I’ve seen what’s possible- and I can’t unsee it.
The myth of American exceptionalism dies quickly when you live in a place where your kids can walk to school safely, college doesn’t cost the moon, and politicians don’t treat compassion as a threat to freedom.
To those who are still grinding it out back home, I see you. I love you. You deserve better. You’ve always deserved better.
And to Sweden- thank you. For the quiet, the calm, the fika breaks, and the space to become someone who doesn’t flinch every time they open the news.
Maybe one day, home won’t feel like a fight. Until then, I’ll keep hoping, writing, and voting like it matters- because it does.
Swedish Wanderlust 