No Matter What I Did In USA, I Was Never Enough
When I first decided to leave the USA, I never thought I would miss it. I was so sick of it all—sick of the traffic in LA, sick of the politics, sick of the rising costs of everything. Gas prices kept climbing. Groceries were more expensive every week. Rent was skyrocketing. No matter how hard I worked, it was never enough. I never saw myself affording the kind of life I wanted in the USA.
And it’s not like I wanted much. Just a simple, affordable life—a job that didn’t consume me, a small home with outdoor space, a place to park, a vehicle that wasn’t older than I am. But no matter how much effort I put in, it was never enough. I always felt like I was less than, like I was falling behind.
Working in the film industry, I saw firsthand how nepotism ruled everything. Hard work alone was never enough to climb the ladder. Sure, some people made it from the bottom, but most were handed a shortcut. I wasn’t one of them. I kept grinding, kept learning new skills, but it was never enough.
America made me feel like a loser. The brutality of the system, the constant struggle, the lack of healthcare—it was exhausting. I rode a motorcycle to work every day, rain or shine, not just because I loved riding, but because it was the only nice thing I could afford. That bike was my last piece of dignity in a country that made me feel like I would never be enough.
My Source of Dignity
Not only did my Triumph make me look like a functioning member of society, but it also made me feel cool—really cool. It was pretty much my only source of pride and joy while grinding through 60+ hour workweeks, just to make ends meet. And mostly for people who were—how do I say this nicely?—dumb as a bag of hammers and completely undeserving of their positions. That bike was my illusion of success—a way to appear as though I had made it.
But I hadn’t made anything. That bike was all I had. I was drowning in debt, barely scraping by to pay sky-high rent. My apartment was a dank cave, the kind of place you could only pass off as “cool” if you leaned into the punk rock aesthetic—stacked vinyl records, tight jeans, and just the right amount of attitude. On the surface, I was cool. But in reality, I was lacking. I had nothing. I was just another working stiff, and inside, I was completely broken.
Covid-19
Though I wasn’t exactly getting ahead in life, stuck in the same dead-end job with no real progress, the COVID-19 shutdown made everything worse. It set me back decades. Suddenly, there was no work at all. I had no choice but to move in with my father, and eventually, I was even forced to sell my beloved Triumph.
During that time, I became much closer to my father, and for that, I’ll always be grateful. But my career was over. My experience became irrelevant, replaced by younger workers willing to work for less. I felt discarded, like I had been chewed up and spit out by a system that no longer had a place for me. And in my despair, I fell into crippling addiction to drugs and alcohol.
My father lived in Wrightwood, California, a beautiful mountain town, but I never took the time to enjoy it. I felt trapped, stranded in a tiny town with no job opportunities and no way to leave. It was like being in paradise but living in hell—unable to appreciate the beauty around me or even the company of my own father.
That’s when it hit me: I could have a better life abroad. If I was never going to make it in the US, maybe it was time to accept that reality. American society didn’t want me. I was never enough. But the world is bigger than the United States, and I started to research my way out.
A Better Life Abroad
When I started researching the affordability and simplicity of life abroad, I was shocked beyond belief. It wasn’t just cheaper—it was dramatically easier. Healthcare was affordable, living expenses were lower, and in many ways, it was safer. It almost seemed too good to be true. I couldn’t believe what I was reading, seeing, and hearing. It sounded like a dream life.
The idea of starting fresh in a new country was so powerful that it actually inspired me to get sober. It wasn’t easy, but over a year later, I remain completely sober, and I owe that transformation to the hope that life abroad gave me.
Here, I am enough. I’ve realized that by trying to measure up to American society, I was only hurting myself. I was withholding my own happiness for the sake of an illusion. Moving abroad not only gave me a sense of purpose, but it also helped me let go of the toxic, capitalistic expectations that had been ingrained in me. I was trapped in a fast-paced, workaholic lifestyle, grinding endlessly for a future that never seemed to arrive. But life doesn’t have to be that way—and leaving the US showed me that.
I made this video when I first came here, and my friend Brandon talked me out of moving to the capital city. I’ve learned to live with a poorer internet connection, and I am glad I stayed in Siem Reap. Its a truly special place.