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| I took this in the Paris metro months ago, but saved it for this very post! |
To say I am happy to leave France is 100% accurate. While I have learned many things here, it has been largely an exercise in frustration (sometimes on a daily basis, sometimes on a moment-to-moment basis). Anyone who has been reading this blog probably noticed that it became mostly posts about things gone wrong, things frustrating and depressing, and not about the many wonders in Paris (of which there are many). When you live in one of the worlds most celebrated and iconic cities, and all you care to write home about is how fucking frustrating everything is, that's probably a good sign that you aren't fitting in and need to re-evaluate the situation.
I tried my damnedest to ignore all the stereotypes and horror stories people told me about life here in France before I came. I wanted to come with a clean slate and as little preconceptions about the French, and their way of life as possible, in hopes of doing better. I wanted to prove wrong all the stereotypes and overcome the many obstacles that thwarted those who came before me.
I am writing to you today to tell you that I have failed.
Failure isn't something I deal well with. In part because I am stubborn, and in part because I do my damnedest to avoid it in all cases, so I don't have a lot of experience dealing with it. Most of the time I succeed, I fix problems and make things happen. Occasionally though I fail, and it always hits me hard (those who've known me a long time will likely point out those failures for me, mostly relating to my uselessness with relationships over the years, and one catastrophic personal meltdown that stands out among other minor freak-outs).
In this case though, I don't have that same sense of "Man, what what I thinking?!" or "Crap, I really fucked it up, I should have done X instead of Y" or "SHIT SHIT SHIT! This HAS to work!! For the love of all that's holy, how do I make it work!!!". I don't have that insane need to fix this and make it work: Some things are best left broken.
Maybe this is a sign of maturity, maybe this is a sign of age. Maybe there is no difference between the two.
Perhaps though, this simply stems from the fact that I don't feel that I screwed up or that I was in the wrong and could have done better, and that leaving IS fixing it. From someone who has a "lockjaw" single-minded tenacity for making things work, at times to the point of insanity (again, ask some of my former romantic interests ;) ), this is quite a statement to be making. Walking away is the one thing I am practically incapable of doing. I have long since realized about myself that I have no "flight" mechanism, for better or worse.
Yet here we are, happily abandoning Paris. I don't have a single regret, and I am happy to move on. Too many problems, too few solutions. The road ahead certainly no less fraught with potential pitfalls, but already things are working better after a few short weeks than they did in two long years.
I look forward to our new life in Sweden. I look forward to people not being complete dicks about speaking English with me. I look forward to being able to solve most of my problems all on my own instead of depending on others to help me with the most essential issues. I look forward to a fantastic new job.
I look forward to a great many things, but most of all I look forward to a new adventure!
