I should be freaking out, but I’m not.
For the past 2 days, I’ve had drafts sitting waiting to be posted, narrating various fears and worries and nerves. I just couldn’t bring myself to post them. It didn’t feel right or true to what I’m feeling. Those notes and paragraphs were certainly true when they were written, and that was only a couple of days ago. But somehow between yesterday and today I am just not feeling that anxious anymore.
This may be the most zen I’ve ever been in my entire life.
A week and a half away and I have nowhere to live, I’m moving across an ocean, and I am not as confident in speaking the language as I should be. But it’s fine. It’s all going to be fine.
As far as the apartment drama goes, there’s just not a whole lot I can do. We’re looking at every listing we can find and Frenchman’s making phone call after phone call. Each time we find a perfect place, inevitably it turns out to have just been rented, and back to the drawing board we go. We’re doing everything we can. We’ll find a place eventually, and in the meantime we’ve got backup options (his family and even hotels) to cover us until we do. It just seems like a waste of energy to get worked up about something I can’t control.
For the other stuff? Ditto. It’s going to be fine, and what’s the value in worrying about it? Cross that
bridge ocean when you come to it. It’s Paris – how bad could it be, really? Terrible day? Have a croissant. Somebody’s mean to you? Here, have a macaron. Missing home? Skype mom and eat some fromage. Problem: solved.
Every time I’m asked about my Paris plans, the person asks “Do you speak French?” I chuckle and say, “We’re about to find out!” Sure, it’s going to be difficult living in a foreign country with a language that’s not my own, but I’d rather look at it as a big adventure than psyche myself out thinking I can’t do it.
I’m feeling very positive today. How very uncharacteristic of neurotic ol’ me. And how un-French! I’ll have to get that out of my system in the next week or so…