Ending “That American Girl”

Lately, I can’t ignore the gnawing reality that this blog has hit a slump. When I began writing That American Girl five summers ago, my life looked alarmingly different. I was caught up in a whirlwind romance with a man from Belgrade, Serbia and on the precipice of beginning my graduate studies. I learned so much about Serbian food, culture, and relationships that writing a blog seemed as inevitable as marrying Aleksa. 

And I’m grateful, truly, that I began a blog. It’s given me some unwanted attention here and there, but it’s mostly connected me to hundreds of women in long distance relationships. You see, most of the literature on LDRs is negative, dismissive, and discouraging. You don’t need to read all of my blogs to imagine the kind of discourse I encountered in the early days of my love story.

It thrills me that That American Girl has given hope to countless couples navigating the immigration system, binational relationships, and everything in between. I’m always floored to receive an email or an Instagram DM from someone who has organically stumbled upon my blog, which I can genuinely say has led to some incredible online friendships. I’ve referred several women to my own immigration lawyer, coached them on the highs and lows of the spousal visa process, and dillydallied in my fair share of Serbian travel recommendations.

Yet on the other hand, my life looks nothing like it did in 2021. I am no longer in a long distance relationship: I live with my now-husband in New York City. I successfully completed my post-graduate studies and became a college English professor. With our busy lives and demanding schedules and career ambitions, Aleksa and I have less and less time (and finances) for vacationing in Belgrade.

Now and then, when the doubt-bug starts to bite, Aleksa and I entertain the thought of moving to Serbia. We talk about the pros: being near his family, having universal public healthcare, paying lower rent (possibly). We romanticize the future it might bring, filled with holidays and people and experiences we don’t necessarily have access to in New York. We don’t know what the future will hold — if we will always be loyal to New York City, or if we will one day head on over to Belgrade — but for now, we are staying put in the Big Apple.

So unless we move to Belgrade, I want to gently close the door on That American Girl to make room for other writing projects. As you may or may not know, I have been working on a book. I have hit pause on my book to focus on my career goals, at the moment, which involves going back to graduate school (again, I know) and completely switching career paths.

From time to time, I find myself itching to write, though not knowing where to put my thoughts, as this blog was meant to be a harbor for travel and romance and immigration and Belgrade. Muddying the blog with topics outside of its intended parameters is not something I wish to do. (And prior attempts have not satisfied me, including the painstaking 12 Days of Blogmas!)

Which is why I believe it’s time to say goodbye to That American Girl. As my trips to Serbia become less frequent, and I grow further and further away from the identity of “Girl” and embrace womanhood/adulthood in all of its glory, this blog feels like it is stuck in a pastime that I can no longer accommodate. It belongs to an era that I’m no longer in, and continuing to write it feels like it will be a disservice both to myself and to its longtime readers. 

This is not necessarily the end of my relationship with you as a writer, dear reader. I am still working on many things. I write a trend column for Holy Thrift and magazine articles for The Diaries Collective. And I suspect, sooner rather than later, I may bite the bullet and join the Substack masses. 

And besides, if Aleksa and I ever do decide to pull the trigger on the Serbia move, I may have to re-open this blog. Jury is still out on that one…

All of this is to say that I am truly, extremely touched to have had this unique opportunity to be read so voraciously and wholeheartedly. Really. It’s all a writer can ask for. 

Forever yours,

That American Girl