Don’t worry, the Parisians didn’t roll me up into a cream puff and eat me.
I left Paris after a short three months of residence. The job didn’t end up working out. I was homeless for a month while finishing my French language class, couch-hopping between the only two friends I had in the city, which was impossibly generous of them. And I was not particularly happy anyway. I could have found a new family to work for and lived out the rest of my year long visa in mild dissatisfaction, though I’m sure I would have gradually gotten more comfortable with the city.
But then my best friend got engaged.
Let’s be honest, it was totally an excuse to go home. I didn’t feel comfortable saying, “I’m unhappy, I think I’ll go home.” That’s just not something I can let myself say. But, “My friend just got engaged and asked me to be Maid of Honor, and I’m unhappy here anyway. Might as well go home and help with the wedding, right???”
Totally an excuse.
I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I needed to tell myself that lie in order to get myself into a situation where I could do some healing. And Columbus is kind of the perfect place for that.
And once I was here, eventually I could recognize that it was an excuse, and be okay with it.
More than okay with it. Paris is a great city to visit. It’s beautiful, the people are beautiful, the food is beautiful. Maybe if I’d gone under different circumstances it would have been different. But right then it just wasn’t working for me, to a point that had become unhealthy.
So here I am, back in my home city, resting, gathering strength, and figuring out what I really want. And it’s turning out to be different from what I thought.
And that’s okay.