“Praying for Time” from a Balcony in Panama: A Love Letter to the America I Miss

I sat on my balcony this morning, sipping tea and watching the Pacific waves kiss the shores of Panama. The sky was Carolina blue, the wind gentle—one of those rare, peaceful mornings that make you breathe a little deeper.

George Michael’s Praying for Time played softly from my speaker, and just like that, the tears came.

I didn’t expect them. But maybe I should have.

It’s been a few months since I left the United States. I didn’t plan on becoming an expat—not like this, anyway. I left because the heaviness in my chest every time I opened the news became too much to carry. I left because the rising hate, the constant fear, and the blatant disregard for human rights felt like a slow suffocation. I left because I couldn’t unsee what the current political climate—fueled by MAGA extremism and performative patriotism—was doing to people I love. To communities that have already been through enough.

As the song played—those aching lyrics “These are the days of the empty hand / Oh, you hold on to what you can”—I realized something:

I’m grieving.

Grieving the country I used to believe in.

Grieving the era where decency was celebrated, when kindness wasn’t radical, and where a president spoke with empathy, intellect, and moral courage. I miss the Obama years—not because they were perfect, but because they gave us hope. Pride. A vision of a United States that could live up to its promises. A place where human rights, diversity, and compassion weren’t up for debate.

But now? We’re watching history try to repeat itself—with fear-mongering, book bans, reproductive rights stripped away, families torn apart, and vulnerable groups scapegoated in broad daylight. We see it. We feel it. And many of us are screaming into the void: How did we get here?

And more terrifying: Where are we going next?

💔 You’re not alone if you feel heartbroken.

I know many of you reading this are back in the States, wondering if it’s even possible to keep your spirit intact when every headline feels like a gut punch. Some of you are marching. Some are teaching your kids the truth. Some of you are just trying to make it through the day without collapsing from the weight of it all.

So, what do we do when it feels like goodness is shrinking and cruelty is getting louder?

We don’t turn away.

We don’t give up.

We don’t let our kindness be silenced.

🕊️ Here are a few gentle ways to cope and continue:

1. Ground yourself in the present.
   Step away from the doom scroll. Go outside. Pet a dog. Hug a friend. Watch the sunset. These aren’t distractions—they’re reminders of what’s still beautiful, what’s still worth protecting.
2. Practice radical kindness.
   Say hello to the tired mom in line. Compliment the trans kid’s eyeliner. Tip the server extra. Help your neighbor with their groceries. Small acts of compassion in a crumbling world are revolutionary.
3. Support organizations that protect human rights.
   Donate, volunteer, amplify. Whether it’s reproductive freedom, refugee support, LGBTQ+ advocacy, or food banks—find where your heart aches and give it your energy.
4. Speak up, even when your voice shakes.
   Write letters. Post truths. Challenge hateful narratives—even in your own family. Silence is complicity. And your voice matters.
5. Create sanctuary—online and offline.
   Join or build communities that align with your values. Spaces that feel safe, grounded, and inspired. Where grief is welcomed and hope is nurtured.

As I sat on that balcony today, surrounded by tropical beauty and aching for home, I realized something else:

Even though I left the country, I haven’t left the fight.

Because I believe—maybe stubbornly, maybe naively—that kindness will rise again. That truth still matters. That we are not powerless.

And maybe, just maybe, we’re not praying for time—we’re preparing for transformation.

If you’re aching too, know that you’re not alone.

Let’s keep showing up. Keep loving. Keep choosing decency.

Let’s be the light—even when the world forgets how to shine.

—

With hope and fierce compassion,
Stephanie Greco
Coach. Healer. Advocate. Expat still rooting for home.

📩 If this spoke to your soul, I’d love to hear from you. You can DM me or email [email protected]. I’m offering a free coaching session for women who are ready to reclaim their peace in uncertain times.