I've been wanting to write this post since I left Paris on December 24. I wanted to be able to write about my dream year in Paris in witty prose, summing up what the year meant to me and how it changed me and arriving to a neat conclusion.
Except that life isn't like that. There's no clear cut beginning and end. My dream didn't begin on January 2 2018 and end December 24 2018. Life begins when it begins. And it end, well, it ends when you die of course. Those are pretty clean parameters. It's what you do with the time in between that defines what your life is, what it becomes, what it stands for. We all have the choice to write our chapters. The chapters don't have to have a logical sequence either. The chapters can start and stop whenever you want them to. They can pause for a while and they can change direction on a dime. Sometimes you can control those chapters. Sometimes they control you. But the important thing is to keep trying to write them. To write them in your head. And to live them, of course.
I was hesitant to write about my time in Paris coming to an end because the beginning of that time was so full of promise. Of hope. Of dreams being fulfilled and life having meaning. Of taking my life in my hands and making something of it. People kept telling me this would be a life defining time for me. Everything would change.
And it did while I was there. For the first time in my life, I was truly me. I only had myself to take care of, to love, to make happy. I wasn't responsible for anyone else. The freedom was astounding. After a lifetime of making sure everyone else was ok, taken care of, catered to, I was free to do whatever it is I wanted to do. Some days it was sitting with good friends, drinking wine and talking about our world and laughing and maybe shedding a tear. Some days, it was immersing myself in the art that I have come to love, going to museums to revisit old favourites or discovering new wonders. Some days, I just wandered by myself for hours, discovering this Paris that I love, sitting in one of the many beautiful parks scattered all over the city, coming across little winding streets or tiny bookshops full of treasures from floor to ceiling, revelling in the diversity of the people who live here, drinking in their different accents, languages, colourful clothing.
I am a different person when I am in Paris. I like that person. She is carefree, happy, willing to take risks, not scared to open herself up to new people, new experiences. She doesn't want everything wrapped up in a neat little box ~ she's ok with life being messy, raw, chaotic, and carefree. She doesn't need schedules, must dos, timetables, lists. She can just be. And what a glorious feeling it is to just be.
I learned to love myself. To know that it's ok to take care of me, to do what makes me happy, without guilt. To know that I am capable of joy, laughter, contentment, in my own company. To know that the only person responsible for me is me! I love my alone time. I loved taking my walks, letting them lead me where they will, feeling the sun on my face or spying a little window or door and feeling pure joy come over me, sometimes to the point of tears.
I hate that society tells us that we can only be happy when we have "the one" ~ when we are a couple, doing things together, sharing everything. I'm certainly open to that. But I think you can only truly love someone else when you love yourself. In the end, I'm the only one capable of making myself happy. I can't rely on anyone else do to that for me. I learned to do that in Paris. I learned to love myself and do what feels right for me. If I meet someone at some point, that's wonderful. But if I don't, I know I will still be happy, I will still live the life I want to life, I will still have my family and friends, and most of all, I will still have me.
Paris also made me strong. Strong enough to deal with devastation and tragedy. Strong enough to be there for my son and Abby. Strong enough to live through what no parent or grandparent should ever have to live through. I know that my time in Paris enabled me to face what was coming and enabled me to live through what happened. There are moments that will stay etched in my mind forever, some beautiful, some horrific, some peaceful and some unbearably sad. The time I spent in Paris before coming back to Canada in June and in September to be with Derek and Abby gave me the strength and courage to be there for them. I always had the love. Some moments define who you are and who you will be. Abby's cancer did that for me. Of course, it also defined who my son is, the man he will be, the father he was.
Life is short. We need to live it. Live it in the way that you want to. You can do that in different ways at different times in your life. There's no right or wrong way to live life. You just do it in the way that feels right at the time. You do it in the way that makes you happy in that moment. I knew that I had to go live in Paris at some point in my life and I made that happen. I knew that if I didn't chase my dream and make it come true, I would have regrets the rest of my life. I was extremely lucky to have the means and the opportunity to make it happen. I never take that for granted. I also know that it wouldn't have been the same year if I didn't have so many people in Paris and around this world who love me and support me.
I realize I'm repeating many themes I've discussed this year. I'm rambling. I've been ruminating about this post for a few months. Even before I left Paris. I put pressure on myself to come up with a perfect wrap up, a profound end to an amazing year. Except there are no perfect endings. Life keeps moving forward and my time in Paris was just a moment in that life. I want to share something I wrote down in November as I was thinking about my year coming to an end but that I didn't share for whatever reason:
"I worry that I love my own company too much. I worry that I will never let anyone in again in fear of being hurt. I don't know if I can stand the hurt again. I'm so scared of leaving Paris. My soul just belongs here. I can do everything and nothing here and be equally happy. I can breathe. I can be me. I can be.
Who am I really? What do I want in this short life we are given? The sun is shining. I'm in the Jardin de Luxembourg enjoying a warm November afternoon. Reading. Thinking. Wondering. Worrying. Grieving. Loving. Just being.
How can I leave Paris? I am me here. The truest me I have ever been. A me that answers to no one. Except me. No guilt. No pressure. No need to to anything. Just be. And love. And see the beauty all around me. Just feel it. I am so happy here. So content.
I love Danielle and Derek and Charlie and Seb and Abby. With all my heart. I don't know why they aren't enough to hold me down. I want to fly. I want to soar. I can do that here. Doing everything and doing nothing. It's as if my heart can leave my chest and glide, free and open and genuine and honest and happier than I have ever been in these 58 years.
58. That is quite a number. I'm considered an old woman in North America. Invisible. Worn. Done. Sexless. But not here. Here I am a woman. Ageless. Fearless. Able to do and dream whatever I want to do and dream. And I have many dreams left. Dreams of living. And loving. And being loved. Of learning. Seeing. Being. Art. Music. Literature. Wine. Friends. Strolling. Standing still. Feeling the sun on my face. Or the wind in my hair. Or the rain on my cheeks. Rain. Or tears. Happy or sad. Doesn't matter. It means I'm alive. I'm living my live the way I want to. I'm me."
Reading these words just now have brought me to tears. Tears of joy and sorrow ~ joy from remembering where I was when I wrote this and sorrow that I'm not there anymore, sorrow for what that woman was feeling as she wrote about the end of her year in Paris.
Life means moving forward. Nothing lasts forever. Not relationships. Not friends. Not your health. Your job. Whatever you take for granted. It all ends at some point. We can't control that. But we can control how we react to it. We have to resolve to move forward, no matter what life throws at us. It's really all we can do in this messy, ever changing time we are given.
I read a book recently and then watched the movie it was based on last night ~ it's called the Wife and the movie starred Glen Close. The story made me so angry ~ angry enough to throw the book down at some point and cry. Angry enough to have to pause the movie several times because I knew what was coming and didn't want to watch it. But I kept reading. And I kept watching. Not to give anything way for anyone who hasn't read the book or seen the movie, but it involves a deception and a self sacrifice of huge proportions. It showed what happens when we give up who we are for someone else. It shows what happens in our world where women aren't expected to be much more than be the wife, the mother, the one who makes it all better at the expense of their own life, their own ambitions, their own happiness. I related so strongly to both the words and the images for so many reasons. I'm an open book and you all know my life, so I won't rehash everything here. Suffice it to say that it's hard to not think about what life could have been like if I had been braver, if I had been stronger. If I had believed in my abilities more. If I had realized that I could take care of myself, could make a new life for myself. Because I did that. I'm still doing that. Nothing is ever impossible. We must dream it. We must dare it. And we must live it.
When I started this blog, I thought it would be a travelogue of my time in Paris. What I did. Where I went. What I ate, drank, who I spent time with. And there was some of that. But it's evolved into so much more. It's evolved into finding my voice, finding myself. I guess if there's one message I hope anyone who muddles through this incoherent mess comes away with, is this ~ it's never too late. It's never impossible. You can always take the next step. You can always change your life. Make it what you always wanted it to be. You can do it if you want to.
So now I have to figure out what comes next ~ because it's still up to me to be the architect of my life. My year in Paris opened up my eyes to what I want, to who I am and to what's important to me. Now I just have to Let It Be..................
