I Stopped Scanning for Exits

How moving to Spain shifted my family’s daily anxieties.

Photo by kortney musselman on Unsplash

When people ask why I left the U.S., the answer is layered and complicated. It’s never just one thing. But the undercurrent of violence was part of it.

I’d be lying if I said the political divisiveness and increasing violence in the U.S. weren’t a part of my desire to live somewhere else — somewhere away. It wasn’t the whole picture, but it mattered.

I wanted to “opt out” of school shooter (or “intruder”) drills, anger over politics, and the general sense that if you’re not on the right “team” politically, your friends may no longer be your friends. I wanted to drive my kids to school and be able to make an innocent mistake on the road without the thought in the back of my mind that, if I pissed off the wrong person, I might become the victim of a road rage crime with kids in the backseat. (Tennessee has one of the highest rates of road rage shootings in the U.S.)

One of my favorite follows on Instagram is Carlos Whittaker, a man of faith who often reminds us not to stand on issues but to walk with people. That resonates with me. I want to be able to disagree without it costing relationships. Somewhere along the way, we lost that.

I’ve read about the days when politicians fought on the Senate floor and then shared lunch.

From what I see of our politicians today, those days are long, long gone.

It saddens me for my kids that, as adults, we’re setting this example over and over again.

Just this week, Charlie Kirk was assassinated, and on the same damn day, we had another school shooting, this time in Colorado. Today is September 12th, and there have already been more than 50 school shootings in the U.S. just this year.

Logically, as a parent, I acknowledge that the odds of my kids being at school during a shooting are infinitesimally small. I also recognize that that does not ease my anxiety or my fear.

Before we moved to Spain in 2024, we interviewed at some schools during our scouting trip in 2023. When we asked about “security” at one of the schools, they looked at us like we had three heads.

Because the idea of a weapon in a school was unthinkable.

For me, it boils down to two things: guns and healthcare.

In Spain, buying a firearm means background checks, psychological testing, practical and theory exams, and renewing your license every few years. Casual ownership isn’t really a thing.

Everyone has access to healthcare, be it public or private. If you’re working, you’re paying into the system. If you’re not working, you can buy into it for about €60/month. That means if you need help for your mental health, you can get it — publicly or privately.

Whether you agree with the approach or not, the difference in daily life is evident. I can feel it.

I no longer scan for exits at movie theaters. I don’t dread phone calls from school. My kids sleep in their own rooms without argument, and they don’t ask me questions like, “What do we do if someone breaks in?” Those questions came straight from active shooter drills.

And they broke my heart.

Spain isn’t perfect. But here, my kids aren’t growing up rehearsing how to hide under desks. We worry about grades, what’s for lunch, and when the next field trip is.

That alone made our move worth it — for me, and for them.