Sunday 17 December 2017

I'm going to Paris ~ dot, dot, dot

As my big day looms closer and closer (16 more sleeps!!!), I seem to be going through so many various and opposing feelings.  Excitement. Anxiety. Sadness. Nervousness. Happiness.  Ambiguity (doesn't last long, but it's there.  Fleetingly 😅) Fear. Pure Joy.  A "can't wait to be there" mixed with "what the fuck was I thinking" stream of consciousness that never stops, that keeps me from sleeping, that permeates every waking moment and every hard fought for dream.

Today was a perfect example.  With only 8 days until Christmas and 16 days until I leave, I was determined to get most of my Christmas gift wrapping and Paris packing done.  Ambitious, I know.  But I'm not a tightly wound, anal planning, anxious "what if" middle aged divorcée for nothing. So I wrapped.  Presents for my grandkids.  My cutest ever Charlie, sweetest ever Sebastian and searingly bravest ever Abby.


I wrapped presents for my kids, my mom, my family, my friends and more.   And as I wrapped and stuck on bows and wound ribbons and stuffed tissue paper and signed little gift cards, I realized that I would be leaving all these people ~  all my family, my friends, those who have sustained me and supported me and encouraged me and loved me for the last 4 years.  For the last lifetime.  I would be leaving them for a year.  I would not be able to drop in and get hugs and kisses and love and everything that has gotten me to a point where I can even contemplate leaving.  And I was sad.  Melancholy. Thoughtful.  But most of all grateful.  Grateful that I have so many people in my life who have gotten me to this point. To the point where I am strong enough to plan this long thought of and long awaited dream.  To make myself go forward and to challenge myself to go beyond my comfort zone, leave my support network and fly by myself to a life I have only dared imagined.  I will miss my family.  They have no idea how much I will miss them.  Some think I'm doing this capriciously. That I am not thinking of what I am leaving behind.  But I think of it every day.  And I know I have to go.  I have to be brave and do this for myself.  Because if I don't, I will regret it every day for the rest of my life.  So I am going but I am bringing you all with me.  In my heart.  In my mind's eye.  In my soul.  I am bringing all the love and courage and determination and support you have given me in the last four years as I've remade my life.  As I've redrawn my future to something I could not have imagined that dark, cruel day in November 2013 when my life changed in a heart breaking instant.  You have all been the catalyst for this life-altering, this life changing, this life defining moment.  I thank you all for helping me get to this point where I can take this giant step forward and do something just for me.  Just because.

So that leads me to the packing.........because after the wrapping, came the packing.  Because I said to myself, this is what I am doing today.  So that's what I did.  Because that's what I do.  I make lists.  I make plans.  I give myself objectives and I meet them.  At work.  At home.  In life.  I just do.  I don't know how to not do that.  I wish I did.  I'd probably sleep a hell of a lot better if I could just not do that sometimes.  But that's just not who I am.  And I probably won't change now.  Anyways, I digress.  The packing............well, because of who I am, I've been building a list in my mind of what I would take.  What I would leave behind.  What I had to bring.  What I wanted to bring.  What I could bring if I had the space. So I've been writing that list in my mind for a few months.  Crossing things out. Putting them back.  Debating with myself............is that extra coat really necessary?  Will I wear that dress?  That scarf?  Those heels?  Today I gathered all those scattered little thoughts and gave them a voice.  I separated items into summer, fall and winter.  Absolutely vital and meh, maybe I just better toss this in since I have the space.  I put some 70s music on my Apple Music and bopped around, folding, rolling and stuffing into every spare inch, crevice and space of my 3 suitcases.  And you know what?  I was happy during that time.  I wasn't worried.  I wasn't scared.  I wasn't guilty. I wasn't anxious.  I just was.  I packed and sang and danced and didn't think about anything else except that I am moving to fucking Paris for a whole year.  Me.  I did this.  All by myself.  Got my visa.  Got my apartment. Got my financial affairs in order. Got my life ahead of me.  It's very rare for me to just be mindlessly happy.  I always have so much going on in my head.  I can't seem to stop the thoughts and worries and love and anxieties from swirling around in there.  But for a few short hours this afternoon, I was able to just pack and think about this huge adventure ahead of me and I was happy.  Content.  Excited.

I chatted with a close friend this afternoon and I was telling him that I can't believe I'm going to Paris for a year in 2 weeks.  And he stopped me.  Told me I needed to reword that sentence just a bit.  Told me that I was just going to Paris ~ dot, dot, dot.  And to just let the rest happen.  No timeline.  No expectations.  No must do's.  No plans.  Just, I'm going to Paris ~ dot, dot, dot...........

So that's what I'm going to try to do.  Just go to Paris ~ dot, dot, dot.....................

In the meantime, I hope this post has given you an idea of what this blog will be.  It will be raw.  It will be emotional.  It will be searingly honest.  Probably too much so.  But that's me.  I don't know any other way to be.  I don't have a filter.  I don't censor myself.  So it's not for everyone.  And that's ok. Because in the end, this blog is really for me.  It's my journal to myself.  It's won't be pretty sometimes. But it will always be real.  I wrote something down a while ago that I want to say now ~ what I write may not be great.  But it will always be true.  

So you've been warned.  Come along for the ride, but it might not always be fun.  But there will be pretty Paris pictures lol.  And on that note, in order to keep the 3 people that may still be reading this and thinking, wait, I thought this was going to be about Paris, here's some photos to keep you hanging on..........
















This summer, on a sunny, warm day while strolling by myself in our capital city of Ottawa, I had one of those perfect moments of clarity, where I just knew, for whatever reason, that everything I've been through in my life has been leading me to this time.  I just knew I was on the right track and that I had to go on this journey,  this discovery of who I was and what might be possible for me.  I just had to Let It Be..........




Saturday 18 November 2017

It's about time..........

I used to blog.  All the time.  Well, maybe not ALL the time.  But during every trip. And we (the old we, now I'm a I) travelled a lot.  Europe twice a year.  Week long relaxation trips to the Caribbean ~ where we would literally do nothing more than lay on a beach, eat and drink.  NOTHING more, if you get my drift ;). And every year, a week's getaway at the place we called Pointe Au Roche ~ a collection of 3 bedroom cabins on the shores of Lake Champlain in upstate New York, with the Green  Mountains of Vermont as our glorious backdrop.  With our extended family ~ our daughter, son in law, grandson and later, grandsons and sometimes even more extended family ~ sister, brothers, in laws, niece and nephews and my mom.  Those were cherished times, filled with raucous laughter (because we are a raucous French Canadian family, where nothing is off limits in both terms of discussion or making fun of ~ really, nothing. You have to be there to really understand.), food, lots of alcohol, and even more love.

















And then this happened. And everything changed.  I mean everything.  I wanted to keep blogging. Keep telling my truth.  Keep proving that I was OK.  That life goes on.  That shit happens, but I was strong enough to handle it.  Except I wasn't.  I couldn't.  I kept thinking about it.  Kept drafting up posts where I explained what was happening.  How I felt.  Some days strong and full of fight.  Others, barely hanging on.  Willing myself to keep going even though every fibre of my mind wanted it all to stop.  Just stop.  Stop the memories.  Stop the wondering what, if any, was true.  Stop the pain.  Stop the numbness.  Just stop. But I didn't.  Because it still hurt so much.  It hurt for so much longer than I ever thought possible.  It hurt so much more than I ever thought possible.  It just fucking hurt.  So I didn't write it down.  I couldn't.  Couldn't revisit the pain.  The sheer agonizing knowledge that my whole adult life had been a lie.  I couldn't do it.  Even though I had the thoughts and the emails and the texts and the proof that I had been wronged.  So fucking wronged.  But I just couldn't put it into words. Or I just wouldn't. Wouldn't expose the wounds.  The agony.  The hurt.  The betrayal.  The sadness.  The unbearable sadness.

If you are reading this, you are probably thinking, Holy Fuck.  What a depressing blog!  Why the fuck would I want to keep reading this crap? (and sorry for my language, but that's who I am ~ I have a potty mouth and those fucks help me express myself.  That probably says a lot about my talent as a writer, but it is what it is. Oh and by the way, if you stick around, you will hear that a lot ~ it is what it is.  Because it really is.). All I can say is that, it does get better.  I do have a message of hope and redemption (OMG, how pompous does that sound??  But I really do!) Life is what we make of it.  And four years later, I have made it good.  Very, very good.  Of course, I've had the love and support of so many people, who have encouraged me to keep going, keep growing, keep moving forward, keep telling my truth, keep reaching for my dreams.  Just keep............and I have.

So why blog now?  Why start again?  Well, because I feel it's time.  I feel like I can do this.  That I should do this.  That I have a story to tell.  That I can maybe help others by sharing what happened to me.  And how it's possible to start over and move forward, even when every shard of your life changes in an instant  ~ again, how pompous do I sound?  But I tell you this ~ I don't think I am.  I am grateful to every single person who helped me get to where I am today.  And I am grateful for every opportunity I have and I've had.  I'm even grateful for the exquisite pain I experienced because it made me who I am today. Ah shit, this is sounding more and more like one of those, "oh, look how great I am", blogs.  But it's not what I want to say.  All I really want to say is, that if you want to, you can make your life a better life.  It's not easy and it's not a quick fix but it's possible.  Please don't vomit. Hang in there.  I have a lot to say and I'm going to try to say it all.  In time. With a lot of swear words and incomplete thoughts and veering off on tangents and all kinds of crappy writing techniques.  But I will say it.

The real motivation for starting a new blog is that I am fulfilling a very long held dream in six short weeks by moving to Paris for a year.  Moving to the city where I am a different person.  A person I like very much.  A person who can just be, without explanation, without guilt, without trying to fix everyone's lives.  Just me. I'll expand on what Paris means to me and why I have to be there in later posts.  It's not about running away.  It's not about leaving the past behind.  It's not about leaving my family behind.  It's about me.  It's about thinking of just myself for the first time in my life.  It's about making myself happy in what we all know is a very short life.  Doing what I want to while I can.  It's always been hard for me to do that.  To think of myself before anyone else. I am the person people count on.  I am the one who is there.  Always.  No matter what.  So now, I've decided I will be there for myself for this period of time.  Always.  No matter what.  I hope those I love can understand this. I hope with all my heart that they can.  But in the end, my life is my own.  I can't please all the people all of the time.  I can only do what my heart and soul call out for in the short time I have been allotted.  So I am. :)

So there will be lots more.  Lots of soul searching.  Lots of memories to share.  Hopefully lots of useful thoughts on how it's possible to forge a new life, a new hope, a new place when everything falls apart.  My wish is that my ramblings will be useful to women, to people who think they can't go on.  They can't take that next step.  They can't imagine a life where there is no pain, no hurt, where they can dare be whole and happy again.  I'm proof that it is possible.  Not by dreaming (although dreaming is never wrong ~ that is where it all starts from).  It's possible by taking the next step.  No matter how impossible that step may seem at times.  No matter how much it hurts to take it.  You just do it.  One step at a time.  One day at a time.  One year at a time.  It is what it is.  And it is what you make it.

So almost 4 years later, it's time. Join me on an unfiltered, emotional, painful and joyous and tumultous journey, both backwards and forwards, as I Let It Be.