It's been a while since I've written about moving to France -- not because I'm not doing anything or not thinking about it. It's what I do constantly. I read, research, think, read some more, get really anxious, read some more -- well, you get the picture. I'm having mixed feelings -- for many and varied reasons. First and foremost, I am afraid. Yes, it's scary as hell to be thinking about not only moving to France but even going to France -- alone. Yes, I've been there before, even lived there for a couple of years a couple of decades ago. But now I'm just past the 65 mark, and I plan to go completely alone, by my own little self. Can I do it? I don't know. The more I read, the more frightened I become.
When I was in undergraduate college back a long time ago, I used to be a very brave (but still frightened) person. This probably isn't something to brag about, but I'll tell it anyway: I used to get my student loan every autumn, and off I would go to Europe and travel around (and have the time of my life, even though you can't imagine how scary it was at times) until I ran out of money. Then I would come back to the US, get a part-time job to pay for school, and go to school and work part-time until I got my next student loan. I did that every year for at least three years. Yes, it took me a long to time to get my first bachelor's degree, but I had a lot more fun than all of my peers who went to school the "conventional" way. And I believe I gained more by having done it the way I did. And, yes, I think I got a better, albeit non-conventional, education by all my travels, too.
I haven't been writing on here lately because of my fears -- and my uncertainties. What if I fail? I feel that I would be letting my very tiny audience here down, my family, especially my little granddaughter who looks up to me so much, down, myself???!! down. Yes, myself most of all. And I guess the rest of you don't matter so much, but in a way, you do. But even if I fail, I feel it's necessary to document my entire experience, succeed or fail.
I think as far as daring to take on new experiences, I have had a great life so far. I can't let a lot of fear stop me now. So even though I'm unsure, so very, very afraid, I must force (yes, force, if necessary) myself to go through with it. I know in my most inner self that I'll never regret doing it. What I would regret, I am sure, is not doing it.
I will say for now that my plans have somewhat changed (I think): At this time, I plan to go first of all for three months and figure out where (and if) I want to live, just once again get the feeling of being slightly out of control, with no safety net if I really mess up, but gaining so very much more. (You would think I'm talking about a trip to the moon and not just to France, wouldn't you?) Well, everything is relative to something else, and that's where I am. France, the moon, what's the difference at this point. I know that's far-fetched, but it's kind of how I feel now.
So I continue to decide where I'll end up in my first foray there, how I'll fill my days!!! without suffering a terrible loneliness (I'm shy and don't strike up acquaintances very easily -- and I'm OLD! To many of you, anyway, even if I myself don't feel old). I've been studying my somewhat rusty French non-stop, watching French news every evening, reading only French novels (when I'm not reading about traveling), etc,. etc.
'Til next time . . .
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