My Dilemma with Finding A Home Country

"Where liberty dwells, there is my country." - Benjamin Franklin

Ever since my husband and I got married, I’ve always had the idea that we’d eventually choose a place to settle down for good. We first met in the Dominican Republic, and two years later, after yet another relocation for work, we were saying I do in Haiti, my birth country. From the start, we both knew Haiti wasn’t going to be Home for us. The unstable political climate and constant insecurity were too overwhelming—living behind barb-wired walls, in armoured cars with bodyguards, just to avoid robbery or worse, kidnapping. As much as I enjoy living on the edge, this was too extreme, even for me. Plus, it wasn’t the life my European husband was used to, and my memories of living in safer, freer countries only fuelled my desire to find a more secure environment for us to call home.

Since then, we’ve lived in six different countries, and on two occasions, I let myself believe, This is it. This is where we’ll spend the rest of our lives. But once again, it wasn’t meant to be, and we relocated. Now, I can’t escape the question: Why is it so hard for us to choose one country and commit to it?

We’ve always said we’ll end up in one of three places: Romania (my husband’s birth country), the Dominican Republic (where much of my maternal family has moved), or France (my paternal family’s homeland, and the country from which both my husband and I are nationals). These three countries represent our roots and our identities the most, so they make sense. But despite having lived in all three, we still can’t decide—and here’s why:

France

France is the most developed and stable choice—the practical decision. It has four distinct seasons, a strong social security system, reliable infrastructure, top-tier education, good healthcare, and a rich intellectual and cultural landscape. It offers reasonable working hours, leisure time, and the potential for homeownership through stable mortgages. The lifestyle in France is organized and efficient—there’s a process for everything, and it’s transparent. Settling down here means living in a well-structured, safe environment where life eventually becomes smooth and predictable.

But maybe too predictable. After a while, it can feel like you're just another number in the system. The high taxes, while understandable, do weigh on you. French society is often very similar in its routines and patterns—everything happens at the same time for everyone, and life can feel repetitive. And while the intellectual and philosophical richness is stimulating, it’s hard to find that warmth, spontaneity, and emotional connection that I love so much in Caribbean or Eastern European cultures. I worry that without the vibrancy and human connection of other cultures, France could start to feel isolating and impersonal.

Romania

We lived in Romania until just last year. In terms of development, it sits somewhere between France and the Dominican Republic—not as industrialised as France but more advanced than the Dominican Republic. Romania seemed like the perfect middle ground. It’s in Europe, making travel easy, and its natural beauty and rich traditions are breathtaking. Romanians are passionate and love to have fun, much like Latinos, and the culture is lively and spirited. It’s still developing, which brings opportunities in real estate, business, and work, and though there’s a social security system, it’s not as robust as in France.

The downside is that Romania’s progress has stagnated. Despite being part of the EU, much of its infrastructure is outdated, and there’s a general feeling of being stuck. The political system is deeply corrupt, and public services like healthcare and education are underfunded. As a result, you often feel like you’re on your own, especially when it comes to securing a decent living for your family. After four years of trying, we eventually gave up and left. It’s still Home in many ways, but we’re not sure we’ll ever go back to live there.

Dominican Republic

For me, the Dominican Republic is a substitute for Haiti, my birth country. Haiti, as much as I love it, has been in turmoil for decades and will likely remain that way for the foreseeable future. The Dominican Republic, which shares the same island, has offered a similar warmth and vibrancy to my life. The people are incredibly warm and expressive, the culture is lively, and the island’s tropical beauty is simply irresistible. There’s something about island life that draws you in—the music, the food, the beaches, and the general ease of life.

But life in the Dominican Republic isn’t without its challenges. It can be a dangerous place, especially in road traffic and during home burglaries. The culture, while warm, can also be aggressive and confrontational. And the social issues—racism, sexism, domestic abuse, corruption—are very much a part of everyday life. If you want to live comfortably and securely, you need either a high income or to move out of the capital. The cost of living can be steep, especially for those accustomed to Western standards, and well-paying jobs are few and far between. Social security is inexistant, education and healthcare of poor quality and very expensive.

So, why is it so hard for me to choose?

It all boils down to reason versus emotion. I’m constantly torn between the cautious, rational voice in my head and the passionate pull of my heart. Funny enough, this reflects my parents—my father from France, always encouraging me to follow my heart, and my mother from the island, representing reason and caution. France is the logical, stable choice, while the Dominican Republic offers a riskier but more emotionally fulfilling life. Romania falls somewhere in the middle but lacks the benefits of either extreme.

Am I destined to remain indecisive? Do I want the best of both worlds, unwilling to let go of what each has to offer? At times, I envy those who don’t have to struggle with these choices—those who are content with one place, one life, no questions asked.

This struggle, I think, stems from my identity as a multipotentialite, my nomadic way of living, and the constant pull of the next shiny object. If you’ve read my stories Becoming Me or My Last Day of Psychotherapy, you know what I’m talking about. I want to settle down. I know it’s best for my family, especially for my child. But will I ever be able to do so?

I’ve decided to give myself until the end of our upcoming sailing trip to make a decision, once and for all. Hopefully, I’ll choose a country, commit to it, and start building a permanent home for us.

I hope I haven’t offended anyone with my views on these countries. Understand that I, too, am French, Romanian, Haitian, and Dominican. These opinions are formed from my personal experiences, and while no place is perfect, I love each of them in their own way. The question now is: Which one will I choose to adapt to for the long haul?

What do you think? Have you ever wondered what life would be like in a different country? Do you struggle with these same questions?

Sarah the Digital GypSea

United Kingdom, April 2020