Dancing In A Thunderstorm: Our Personal D-Day
Published: June 20, 2025
By: Ryan & Michael Weyandt
Filed under: Reality, Resistance, and Rebirth
Today is our D-Day—not the day we leave, but the day we stopped fighting for a country that stopped fighting for us.
We’ve crossed the line.
We’ve seen the light.
The war—for us—is over.
This is not an escape plan. It’s an act of liberation.
We’re done. And we’re going.
🎯 The Breaking Point
This week, two people we knew and loved were assassinated.
Pause on that.
.
.
.
Four Americans were shot point blank, MANY times, because they believed people are better off with what’s in the left hand.
Two of them died. Not lost to illness. Not taken in an accident. Murdered—for existing, for standing tall, for being exactly who they were in a country that increasingly sees authenticity as a threat. Still, worse than that, two more could have been assassinated had they been home when the phsychopath showed up - we also know and love those women.
That was it.
The final straw.
What had been a long-considered relocation instantly became urgent. It moved from possibility to necessity. From planning to now.
We’ve already survived three death threats—real ones. And it was only a couple of years ago when marked and unmarked squad cars were stationed outside our St. Paul home for days. No sirens. No tape. Just a quiet perimeter, and a quiet message: You’re not safe here.
We evacuated with brown grocery bags full of memories. Whatever we could carry, we took. What we couldn’t, we left. That was the moment we knew: we were never coming back. Not mentally at least.
💥 The America We’re Leaving
We are not cynical—we’re lucid.
We are not angry—we’re aware.
We are not abandoning our country—we are acknowledging it already abandoned us.
We are disgusted with:
The opportunism—turning human suffering into merch drops and campaign mailers.
The exploitation—wringing every dollar out of division and outrage.
The entitlement—pretending patriotism is a personality while the nation collapses under its own weight.
The hubris—still calling this “the greatest country on earth” while hospitals become battlegrounds and school libraries are stripped bare.
We are losing friends to political violence.
We are losing colleagues to silence and fear.
We are watching the country rot from within—and most Americans are still debating the smell.
⚖️ Who We Hold Responsible
1. The Exploiters – Corporate mouthpieces, bought politicians, spineless leadership.
2. The Performers – Those who wrap their hatred in flags and Bibles.
3. The Willfully Ignorant – Who still ask, “Is it really that bad?”
4. The Silent Majority – Who knew and said nothing. Again and again.
You didn’t light the match, but you watched it burn.
And you blamed the flames on those of us already on fire.
❤️ Who We Forgive. And Love.
We forgive the confused, the overwhelmed, the well-meaning who still showed up.
We love the ones who stayed after the headlines faded.
We carry the ones who asked “How can I help?”—and meant it.
To the activists, the teachers, the frontline workers, the community builders—you are the real patriots. You’re the reason we lasted as long as we did. You’re the reason this decision was hard.
You are everything we hoped America could still be.
And we will never stop cheering for you—even if it’s from a time zone or two away.
🌍 What Comes Next
We’ve secured permanent residency in a Western European democracy—one with a functioning government, accessible healthcare, and laws that protect rather than persecute. A country that still treats truth as non-negotiable and doesn’t legislate people’s identities out of existence.
We’re not tourists.
We’re not on sabbatical.
We are starting over—intentionally, and for good.
We're not even 40, and somehow we've already lived through more chapters than most get in a lifetime. This next one? It’s about peace. Privacy. Safety. And rebirth.
🧳 What We’re Taking With Us
A 22-pound terrier who’s braver than most adults in Congress
A couple of grocery bags full of memories, letters, and legacy
A suitcase full of scar tissue
And a relentless commitment to speak truth, even from afar
🕯️ Our Final Words
To those who say “it’s not that bad”—ask the families of the people we lost this week.
To those who say “just stay and fight”—we did. And we bled for it.
To those who think this is giving up—you’re not listening. This is choosing life.
Our D-Day is not departure day. It’s the day we said, “Enough.”
The day we laid down our arms, turned our faces toward the sun, and walked away from a war we didn’t start but were always expected to survive.
The war is over. We have chosen peace.
And so, in the words of a man who triumphed over this all once before; Goodnight. And good luck.
—Ryan & Michael Weyandt
Bound for a new home, in a democracy that still knows what that word means