I am woman, hear me roar.........

This post is brought to you by CRA, the Canada Revenue Agency.  Well, not really.  But I filed my taxes today. From Paris. I was dreading it because there have been overpayment and underpayment issues with my pay courtesy of the Phoenix pay system which pays most of Canada's civil servants.  That's a whole different post for another day.  But last year, my tax slip was incorrect and messed up my taxes.  I was worried about a repeat this year, and of having to deal with it while overseas.  I put off filing until today's deadline, April 30. But lo and behold, it went well.  I'm even getting a refund (which will probably get swallowed up by the incorrect amount I owe from last year).  But I don't care.  It's done and now I can get on with enjoying Paris without that uncertainty hanging over my head.

I did a little dance in my perfect little Paris apartment once I hit the File My Taxes button.  Relief flooded through me.  But also pride.  Confidence.  Contentment. Joy.  Wow, that's a lot of emotion for such a mundane act.  But it wasn't that act per se that spurred such emotion in me.  It was what that act signified.  That I'm a strong, independent, competent woman.  Capable of taking care of myself.  Of making my dream come true.  Of creating a whole new life in Paris for myself.

Filing my taxes was just the culmination of feelings that have been stirring within me for a few weeks.  I've slowly been realizing that I'm starting to let go of some of my fears since I got here.  Fear that I was selfish to come to Paris when people back home needed me.  Fear that I was the only one who could do everything, be everywhere, solve it all.  Fear of being judged.

A funny thing has happened in the last month or so.  I have never felt stronger, or more sure of myself than right now.  Coming to Paris for a year, all by myself, seems to have freed me from my anxieties. Don't get me wrong.  I still live in my head.  But that head doesn't seem to be scolding me as much anymore.  It's more soothing, more accepting of its owner.  Life hasn't changed.  Abby is still fighting for her life.  My son is still living an unimaginable day to day life.  I still miss my kids and grandkids terribly.  But I have also come to realize that it's ok for me to know all this and still live my life.  It's ok.  It's my life to live.  No one is judging.  And if they are, well, fuck them.  Not their life.  Mine.  MINE.

I had lunch with a dear friend today.  I told her how I was starting to realize that coming to Paris was the absolutely right thing for me to do. How I was starting to let go of the guilt, the sadness, the anger  and the regret.  How I was starting to embrace the joy that Paris and the people in my life bring me. It was one of those a-ha moments we keep hearing about.  I just feel so empowered and in control of me right now.  Like I can do anything.  Because guess what?  I can :)

I hope that this post is not coming out as bragging or that I am superior to anyone.  That's not my point at all.  My point is that we all have the potential to go through earth shattering changes, changes that make your heart break and your head explode with pain and despair, and come out ok on the other side.  Not just ok.  But absolutely rocking it.  This strength is within us.  Even in our darkest times, that strength is inside us.  We just have to believe in it.  To know that time truly does heal.  That you won't always feel like your insides have been torn to shreds. Believe me, I've been there.  Done that.  Got the damn t-shirt.  But now I have a new t-shirt.  One I made myself.  One that says I'm OK.  More than OK.  I'm living my life exactly how I want to.  For the first time in my life, I'm taking care of myself, I'm responsible only to myself, I'm doing exactly what I want, when I want and how I want.  The exhilaration of knowing all this is hard to explain.  I'm exactly where I need to be right now at this point in my life.  I am strong. I am invincible. I am woman (thanks, Helen Reddy).

Well, that is enough patting myself on the back for now.  I'll leave you with a few Paris images that have brought me joy over the last few weeks.  I'm just going to continue to Let It Be.............

my Paris bestie

yes, a little drunk, but oh, so happy

springtime in Paris

Who wouldn't want to have lunch here?

a ride in the country

More spring blossoms

Walking along the Seine

Parc Monceau

Auvers Church, made famous by Van Gogh

My favourite artist, who created beauty all through his tragic life

the blue sky of Paris as seen from my window 

It's been a while..........

My followers (all 3 of them lol) have probably noticed I haven't posted a new blog entry in about 5 weeks.  It's not that I didn't have anything to say during that time.  Quite the opposite. It's that there was so much on my mind and so much of it was personal that I couldn't quite commit to writing it all down.

But if this blog is going to be a window into my personal journey, then I need to get past those feelings.  I need to be honest and open about what is going on in my life.  The truth is, the results of Abby's tests in early March were not what we were hoping for.  Her Neuroblastoma has recurred and it has spread. That news sent me into a tailspin.

First, there was devastation. For Abby.  Realizing that she has suffered through 14 months of horrible procedures without the desired result broke my heart.  She had responded so well to treatment over that time, and the interim scans showed that the cancer had greatly receded.  Our hope was so high that her pain and suffering had yielded a remission. But that isn't the case.  And that is so hard to accept.

There was devastation for my son. Knowing what he has gone through during this time.  What he has witnessed his baby girl go through. The personal sacrifices he has made to be next to her side. Knowing that the nightmare is not over.  As a mother, all you want to do is make things better for your kids.  Regardless of how old they are.  I wanted to take away his pain, his anguish, his worry for Abby's wellbeing. But I can't. All I can do is be there for him and love him and Abby unconditionally.

Which leads me to the guilt.  The guilt of being so far away when my son got this news.  Of not being there to hold him and hug him. Of not being there to take Abby in my arms and whisper to her how much I love her.  How dare I be in Paris while all this was going on?  How could I live with myself?  I offered to come home as soon as I heard the news. But my son, my selfless, strong and amazingly brave son told me to wait.  Told me I deserved to have this year, to live my dream. Told me to wait until we had more news.  To wait until there was a reason to come.  Can you imagine what kind of person this man is?  How much he loves me?  His love truly humbles me.  It is endemic of who he is.

The past 5 weeks have been spent trying to get past this guilt. Coming to understand that nothing would have been different if I had not come to Paris.  The medical results would have been the same. But it took a while.  I went through the motions of trying to get out and enjoy Paris, enjoy my friends,  enjoy the sights and sounds and tastes of this city that feeds my soul.  But my heart wasn't truly in it.  I tried to get through the time day by day, and the days weren't bad.  I have amazing friends who rallied around me and helped me through the sadness and guilt.  It's the nights that were really hard.  Those of you who have read this blog know that I can't shut my brain off.  And it usually goes to the worse places.  So the what ifs and whys haunted my sleep.  When I did manage sleep.  I spend many nights, tossing and turning, suffused with heartache, worried about what news I would wake up to in the morning.

So I didn't write.  I couldn't write.  But slowly, softly, through many texts and FaceTime sessions with my son, seeing that Abby was still happy and giggly, learning that she is responding well to her current chemo treatment, knowing that Derek is receiving support from family while I'm away, I began to let go of my guilt.  It's still there, of course.  I wouldn't be a mom if it wasn't :). But it's not as debilitating as it first was.  Derek knows he only has to say the word and I will be on the first plane home.  So I will continue to love and support him and Abby but I will also continue my journey of self discovery and self love.  I've accepted that it's ok to do both.  If anyone judges me for this decision, that is their issue.  The only person whose opinion matters regarding this decision has reassured me that he knows I love him and Abby with all my heart. He is teaching me compassion and kindness and strength and courage.

As spring is springing in Paris, so is my healing.  I'm slowly coming back to myself.  A very good friend recently gave me a book called Braving the Wilderness, by Brené Brown.  I don't usually read self-help books. But for some reason, I read this one and it struck a huge chord with me.  About a week ago, I was reading in the gardens of the Palais Royale.  I came to a passage in the book that brought me to tears of self-realization. I felt the anger and regret and pain of the last 4 years leave my body.  I just felt total peace.  I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of the water of the fountain, a fork scraping a bowl as the woman next to me ate her al fresco lunch, the happy screams of children running and playing, the laughter of teenagers being loud and cocky as teenagers often do.  I felt the sun on my face and peace and joy in my heart.  I felt alive and so grateful to be sitting here, by myself, strong and independent and content.  I felt as free as the swallows flying above me, flitting from tree to tree, the magnolias just starting to bloom.  That freedom led me to write to someone in my past, to let them know that I am happy and  I hope they are happy as well.  That we all do the best we can in the moment.

One of the reasons I started this blog was to try and figure out why I am so happy in Paris.  Why do I feel like a different person here? A person I like very much.  I love my family and my life back home.  So why am I so drawn to this city?  Why does my soul yearn to be here?

I had an aha moment a few days ago ~ I realized one of the reasons I love Paris so much and why I feel so happy and content and at home is because of the life I've created for myself here.  Me. I did that. All by myself.  The people I have in my life here in Paris are MY friends, they are in MY life because of me ~ not because I am someone's wife, mother, daughter, sister or colleague.  They are in my life because of me.  They like me because of me.  They belong to me (in the sense that their loyalty is to me, not because of my connection to anyone else).  In four years, I have managed to forge intense personal connections with a group of people who now mean the world to me.  People I met just before or after my separation. People who just know me as Johanne.  People who accepted me for who I was, not because or in spite of my past.  These people are such a huge reason why I need to return to Paris over and over again.  Their love and acceptance has been such a huge part of my recovery and my ability to love myself and live my dreams.

So the journey continues.  Paris is starting to wake up from the dark, cold winter months and so am I. I continue to spend my days walking and exploring, eating and drinking and talking and laughing with friends.  I continue to make this city my own.  I am looking forward to good friends coming to visit me next month and making more memories.  I hope some of my family will come to see me later this year so I can show them the place I am calling home this year.  I will continue to Let It Be......

my angel Abby

the view from my apartment window last night :)