My big question: why am I here?
When I first arrived, I (of all people) was certain I was living some Cinderella story in which magic and princes were going to make appearances. That my dreams were going to come true. I guess that’s what you call the honeymoon phase.
I wouldn’t say these feelings have been replaced with disbelief or despondence. But they’ve certainly been tempered by reality.
A few weeks ago, I was tormented by my age and singledom, my lack of writing progress and motivation, the deafening doubts in my head. I couldn’t help but feel negative. Adrift. I was still questioning why I’m here, but instead of a starry-eyed magic way, it was a WTF sort of way.
Now I am somewhere in between. I am feeling that I left New York and all my dear and crazy friends, cozy apartment, party invites, easy way of life, so I could take a break and re-evaluate. There was never time to truly pause and reflect in New York. Here, it seems that is all I do. It can certainly be a bit much. It’s never fun to wake up in the middle of the night, questioning yourself and your decisions, asking why you made certain choices and wondering about the repercussions. It’s easy to beat yourself up in the middle of the night.
I keep asking myself if coming to Paris is worth it. If the challenges and constant uncertainty are really going to reveal a clearer path or strengthen me to some Buddha-like place.
Of course coming was worth it. Even if I’m only here for six months and am not able to master French. Even if I don’t land another freelance writing assignment for years. Even if I don’t sell my book. Even if I’m still single in a year, or two years, or, yes, even if by the time I do fall in love, it’s too late to have kids, this experience is worth it.
I have to believe I’m here for a reason. Right now, I’m believing that reason is to hit pause, and then maybe reset. I was given this opportunity to reflect and maybe change the direction of my life in my most favorite city in the world. Ever since I studied here in 1993, I’ve been obsessed with Paris. Now I am here. That means something. It’s not always comfortable and easy, but it is still magic. And it’s for a reason.
Great post. I totally can relate.. it took me about 2 years to finally pluck the courage to leave my job and take time off to just go and do what I've always dreamed of - living in Paris and travel around Europe. I was really bored of Sydney and just itching to go, but I was scared. It's about taking chances isn't it. You don't want to regret never doing it, it's better to take a risk rather than looking back, wishing you'd go ..
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