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After 60 years together, United States, I'm ending our relationship. Though fondness remains, the passion has diminished and I'm making the difficult decision to separate. This departure is voluntary, though it brings sadness, because you possess countless wonderful qualities.

Natural Beauty and Creative Spirit

From your breathtaking national parks, soaring ancient trees and unique wildlife to the magical illumination of lightning bugs between crop rows during warm nights and the vibrant autumn foliage, your natural splendor is extraordinary. Your capacity to ignite innovation appears limitless, as demonstrated by the motivational people I've met throughout your territory. Many of my most cherished memories revolve around flavors that permanently connect me to you – cinnamon spice, seasonal squash dessert, grape jelly. But, America, you've become increasingly difficult to understand.

Ancestral History and Changing Connection

Were I drafting a farewell message to America, that's how it would begin. I've qualified as an "accidental American" since birth due to my father and centuries of ancestors before him, starting in 1636 and featuring revolutionary and civil war soldiers, DNA connections to past leadership and generations of pioneers who traversed the country, beginning in northeastern states toward central and western regions.

I feel tremendous pride in my family's history and their role in the national story. My father experienced childhood through economic hardship; his ancestor fought with the military overseas during the first world war; his single-parent ancestor operated agricultural land with numerous offspring; his relative helped rebuild San Francisco after the 1906 earthquake; and his grandfather campaigned as a state senator.

However, notwithstanding this classic U.S. background, I discover myself increasingly disconnected with the country. This feeling intensifies considering the confusing and alarming governmental climate that leaves me questioning the meaning of national belonging. This phenomenon has been labeled "national belonging anxiety" – and I believe I experience it. Now I desire to create distance.

Practical Considerations and Financial Burden

I've only resided within America a brief period and haven't returned in nearly a decade. I've held Australian citizenship for most of my life and no intention to live, work or study within America subsequently. And I'm confident I'll never need emergency extraction – thus no functional requirement for me to retain American nationality.

Additionally, the requirement I face as a U.S. citizen to file yearly financial documentation, despite neither living nor working there or eligible for services, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. The United States ranks among only two nations worldwide – including Eritrea – that impose taxation according to nationality instead of location. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's printed in our passport backs.

Certainly, a tax agreement exists between Australia and the U.S., designed to prevent duplicate payments, but preparation expenses range between A$1,200 and A$3,500 annually even for basic returns, and the process proves highly challenging and complex to complete each January, when the U.S. tax period commences.

Regulatory Issues and Ultimate Choice

I've been informed that ultimately American officials will mandate conformity and administer substantial fines on delinquent individuals. These measures affect not only high-profile individuals but every U.S. citizen abroad must fulfill obligations.

Although financial matters aren't the main cause for my decision, the annual expense and stress of filing returns proves distressing and basic financial principles suggest it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities would mean that visiting including extra worry about potential denial at immigration due to irregular status. Alternatively, I could postpone resolution for inheritance processing after death. Neither alternative seems acceptable.

Holding a U.S. passport represents an opportunity many newcomers desperately seek to acquire. Yet this advantage that creates discomfort personally, thus I'm implementing changes, despite the $2,350 cost to finalize the procedure.

The intimidating official portrait of Donald Trump, scowling toward visitors at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I recited the renunciation oath – provided the final motivation. I understand I'm choosing the proper direction for my situation and during the official questioning about potential coercion, I honestly respond negatively.

Two weeks afterward I received my certificate of renunciation and my canceled passport to retain as mementos. My name will reportedly appear on a federal registry. I simply hope that subsequent travel authorization gets granted during potential return trips.