This darling babe is new in town (he originally is from London) and loves to cuddle, bark at nothing and pee right where you plan to step next. He’s such a sweetheart, and even though he can be a terror, let’s be honest – I love him dearly. Welcome to the family, Joplin! (And no, I didn’t realize there was a cigarette right next to his face…but that’s France.)
If I asked you who you were, what would you say?
Maybe that sounds weird, but it’s a question that I’ve been running through my mind a lot, lately and today, I stopped to actually think about it. You see, moving to a different country is a pretty intimidating thing. But the moving itself isn’t the hard part.
It’s having no identity once you get there.
Most people don’t really sit around wondering what their identity is. Most of the time it’s inherent. You’re a daughter because you have a mother. You’re a girlfriend because you have a boyfriend. You’re an artist because you make art. You’re an English speaker because you speak English.
But, what happens when you move away from all that?
You’re a daughter, but your mother is 8,000 miles away. You’re an artist, but you have limited supplies, resources and different mediums available. You know English, but you’re not allowed to speak it.
So the question comes up again: Who are you?
I’m the kind of person who believes that regular identity crisis are necessary and a healthy part of my life, but most of the time it’s because I find myself not knowing who I am, or what I want to do at that moment.
This experience is different.
I wouldn’t call this a crisis. I’ve spent the last year figuring out who I am and what direction I want to go in, so those aren’t issues right now. But, like in any witness protection or spy movie, by moving I have suddenly become a person without any identity to those around me.
No one knows who I am. I can walk down the street with 0% possibility of running into someone I know, or grew up with. I go to the store and they eye me warily, wondering where I came from – since they know everyone who lives in this small town.
I don’t have any favorite spots, yet. I don’t have a community, church or friends, yet. I’m a body in this city, but not yet a person.
When I was thinking about this, this morning, it really bothered me. I, like most people, like to be known. I love acknowledgement, and “words of affirmation” is my love language. – not having anyone to talk with in my native (and therefore emotionally comfortable) language makes feeling “whole” pretty difficult.
So, with my identity shifting, and my surroundings foreign, I was wondering today – what makes me…me? Who am I?
“When my identity fails – You will remain. So I will tether myself to you.”
The nearest (non-catholic) church is more than an hour away from where I live, so I’ve been streaming some sermons while going to the Catholic one down the street. It’s an unconvential way of “doing church”, but I’ve never been very good at claiming the conventional, anyway.
Today I was listening to a sermon about anchoring your soul – or having something that grounds you. The pastor was talking about how, to some people, this anchor might be material, and to others it might be another person (such a spouse)…but, the problem is, those things aren’t going to be able to help you when you’re “four inches from sinking.” The first because, being soulless, it can’t relate to your problem, and the latter because they are as broken as we are.
This week I have felt like the top of my boat is four inches from the waves (aka me losing my mind); with too much weight gathered within its structure, my boat is about four inches from being filled and slipping beneath the water: four inches from disaster. Sometimes I feel like I’m just staring at the side of the boat hoping and praying that no bigger waves come and pull me under.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I am confident in my decision to move to France, and I have complete peace about where I am right now. But it’s not easy jumping into a family of strangers, working every day and trying desperately to understand 100% of a foreign language when you have about 80% comprehension (80 sounds like a lot, but try reading a book with 80% of each sentence).
Sometimes I find myself praying out loud because I’m so frustrated with circumstances. Like dogs getting diarrhea and pooping EVERYWHERE, kids throwing punches and middle fingers at their siblings and simultaneous fatigue from a mixture of constantly being around people (introvert alert) and jet lag.
I am not perfect, and situations are not perfect.
But, it’s at times like this, when I realize it’s absolutely essential that my hope is anchored on something stronger than my discouragement.
“This hope is a strong and trustworthy anchor for our souls. It leads us through the curtain into God’s inner sanctuary.” (Hebrews 6:19)
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t sometimes think about just packing my bags and going back home. I miss Seattle like nobody’s business. But I also know that there’s a plan and a reason for me being where I am. And, perhaps more importantly, there’s a promise that my anchor is holding steadfast, even when I can’t see it.
My identity, although feeling unknown, is buried deep within the hope of a savior who promises not that things will be easy, but that he will be present. Right now things are tough, that’s just a reality. But even as an outlier to my present circumstances, I have confidence in knowing that – regardless of the way I feel about things – below the raging water’s surface is an anchor that promises never to let go.
Life has been pretty hectic, lately, so I’ve decided to put all my would be little updates together in one post. Being an au pair is about as difficult as I thought it would be (and I’m a pessimist, so…). I’m just so glad that I have a couple of years of nannying under my belt so I know that this is normal. Never was there a child and nanny who immediately became best friends with the stranger their parents suddenly tell them to obey. There’s always a transition period, and unfortunately that’s what I’m going through right now.
That being said, I love the little town I’m living in. I wish there were more people my age, since it seems like everyone here is over 50 years old, but the city itself is absolutely beautiful. I’m kind of ok with it being more quiet here, even though I’m used to living in the city. That being said, I miss Seattle with all my heart. But, here’s to making the most out of the relatively short amount of time I’m going to be in France. Can’t wait for this to become the best year, ever!
1. We got a puppy!!
Yes he’s the cutest, but he’s also a bit of a brat. This makes the grand total of dogs in this house four, and I’m hoping that will be the last of them. Even though I love dogs, having four running around all day is a bit draining, especially with a howling pup.
2. I visited a castle a couple weeks ago!
This is a video I found that shows the castle I went to the weekend before last. I loved taking pictures, but (of course) video is always so much better. Enjoy!
3. Artists I’m currently in LOVE with:
This is my next book purchase. It’s called “Parissiene” and is by Dominique Corbasson. It’s a bit pricey, ringing up at almost $40, but the illustrations in it are to die for (and, it’s only sold in Europe). Basically it’s going to either be my birthday (which is coming up! September 19th!) or Christmas present to myself. I can’t wait!
I saw this book reviewed online and decided to give it a try! It was originally written in French and is illustrated by one of my new favorites, Isabelle Arsenault. The story was beautiful, and I am absolutely in love with the illustrative style. This book was also my first experience with free 24 hour shipping via French Amazon. It was a win all around 🙂
4. Every time I get nervous about my job…
^^This is the song I started singing in the airport on my way to France (completely subconsciously), but, of course, there is also the original which I was first inspired by. This song is running through my mind again and again. Spirit of Julie Andrews, help me. (Original version below)
5. We started school!
The first day of school was yesterday and I don’t think any of us could have been more excited. The past week and a half I’ve been with the kids 7am-8pm, which has been brutal. But, I’m glad with the school schedule, I now have some free time to get things done during the middle of the day. Hurray for freedom!
6. Phrases for the day:
You’re in trouble = Tu es en difficulté
If you don’t sleep, there will be no chocolate with snack = Si vous ne dormez pas , il n’y aura pas de goût de chocolat avec le snack.
Why is she crying? = Pourquoi elle pleurait?
Play nice or don’t play at all = Joue gentil ou ne pas joue du tout.
Calm down = Calmes-tu.
How was your day? = Ta journée s’est bien passée? or Comment était ta journée?
Where does it hurt? = Où est-ce que vous avez mal ?
Don’t hit your sister (brother) = Ne frappes pas voter soeur (frére)!
My French is not very good because I’m American = Mon français n’est pas très bon parce que je suis Américaine.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – I’ve never been very interested in politics, but lately it just seems so much more applicable to my life than it ever did while I lived in the United States. In today’s political trash bin we have the issue of fruit.
Not just any fruit, but fruit grown by French (and other EU) farmers to be exported to Russia. You may not really be following the whole embargo train ( I know I wasn’t before I moved to France), but here’s a little snippet so you’re caught up to speed.
In a nutshell: A bunch of world leaders are acting like spoiled brats, and aren’t playing nice.
Here in France this is an issue because 1 billion dollars worth of exports went to Russia last year, and that money isn’t coming in this year because of the bans. This is especially bad since the French economy was already in a bit of a squeeze, even before the temper tantrums began.
BUT it also means that peaches are damn cheap, here. As are pears and apples. Since there’s nowhere to send the fruit, it’s being overstocked in most stores, so there is no shortage. This seems initially like a great problem to have, but it’s causing serious issues for smaller stores and especially farmers who were depending on the income the sales would produce.
And, overall, these bans and embargoes don’t really seem to be helping anyone, since the Russians are also experiencing problems with food pricing (some places with 60% increases).
Overall, nobody really likes to talk about politics, but enjoying the fruits of this problem are coming at a cost higher than initial thought would assume. I don’t really ever want to be the ignorant American living in another country, unaware of what’s going on in the world around me, so I think it’s important to look into things like this.
While living in Seattle may have made me feel like issues with Russia were on another planet, the reality is it’s now only a bit father than the distance from Alaska to Hawaii for me to get from here to Moscow. If there was a time to start paying attention, it’s now.
“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”
Before I moved to France, the number one thing people said to me was, “Wow, you’re so brave.” I’ve always thought this was funny, because I would never use that word to describe myself. I was scared as shit to move to France. And even now that I’m living here, I’m terrified of so many things. I’m scared of going to the post office, of buying bread and not knowing how to respond in perfect French when the lady asks me how I’m doing. I’m scared of getting lost when I go on walks, not making any friends, or being in a situation where no one can understand my need for help because they don’t speak English.
These are real fears. But they are also all futuristic and somewhat ridiculous (even though I’m convinced the lady at the bakery is out to get me). Each one of them has the potential of stopping me from thriving while I live in France. They are barriers to happiness. But they are also motivators to making this experience something I’ll remember for the rest of my life. See, each time one of these fears surfaces, I remember what I have overcome to get here.
A year ago I was afraid to breathe. I was unsure who I was, what I was supposed to do with my life, and why it didn’t seem like anything was worth living for, anymore. My heart was broken, two members of my family had been diagnosed with breast cancer within months of each other, and I was floundering in my job and relationships.
There’s a reason they say fear is “crippling.” It doesn’t kill you. It leaves you to fight yourself, daily, in some kind of one sided torture. You feel trapped, isolated and like there’s no one else in the world that could possibly understand. But what’s worse, is that you try to talk yourself out of it. You try again and again to fix it, ignore it, numb it until something – anything takes away the pain of admitting that you need help.
But, we weren’t made to fix ourselves. The broken hearts, the self depreciation, the voices in our heads that tell us it’s impossible to get past this, “There is no future, so why even look forward?”
Instead of moving forward, fear holds us back. It can do more damage to us than any other person ever will. Fear of being alone, of being unwanted or of being unable to achieve the standards we’ve set for ourselves. It paralyzes us, sets us on paths to destroy ourselves through whatever means we use to get rid of it.
I know this, because a year ago this was me. I did everything to try to subdue, freeze, isolate, cover up, conceal and dilute the fear that I felt. Fear that stretched back to childhood. Fears of inadequacy, fear of being unloved – or unworthy of being loved. Fears of never achieving anything. Of the people who had told my mom that for whatever reason (race, gender, socioeconomic standing) I would never amount to anything, being right.
“Don’t be afraid, for I am with you.
Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you.
I will hold you up with my victorious right hand.” Isaiah 41:10
Last year I took a two week long backpacking trip around the UK.
Two weeks is no great pilgrimage. There wasn’t a great cathedral that I would find waiting for me at the end of my journey, and there weren’t any saints to welcome me. But before I left, I decided to take these two weeks to do something crazy – to live in the moment.
You see, fear is of the future, not the present. Danger is in the present, and is very real, but fear? Fear is a manmade, demon of a reality, that will probably never even happen. When we stop worshiping the future, we drain fear of its power.
See, as a Christian, I serve a God of the present, who tells me not to worry about the future, because he’s got it covered (Matt 6:34). Which is awesome, because that gives me so much more creativity, ambition and energy to sow into the present – seeds which will grow and produce a more beautiful future, in the end.
I’m not sure why, but lately I’ve been thinking about fear a lot, and remembering what it took for me to overcome my own demons. I tried and I tried and I tried to fix myself, but it wasn’t until I let go and let God start working that I saw any kind of healing happen. Only after I realized it was ok to be broken, could I begin the process of being mended.
Overcoming fear is as simple and as terrifyingly difficult as acknowledging that it exists. Until you do that, there really is no way of overcoming it. We all have our own unique terrors, each one changing as we grow and evolve as people. But today I’m reminded that where there is brokenness, there are also opportunities for a healing so intensely refreshing, and in some ways, simultaneously painful, that it can do nothing but refine us into a version of ourselves that would otherwise be inaccessible.
So here’s to taking life one moment at a time, and allowing ourselves to grow and transform into the people we are meant to be. It doesn’t happen over night, it’s a daily chore. But it’s in those little moments, when we decide to conquer the now, that we find the strength, over time, to claim the victory we have won.
Taking walks is a huge part of the culture here, in France. It’s the cutest thing to see all of the old people on their walks, or biking with their significant others. Everyone drives in Seattle, but here no one seems to mind taking the longer distance. I’m not sure that I’m onboard with the idea of two walks per day (I love walks, but maybe not that much), but I love grabbing my camera and taking some shots with the kids while we’re out and about.
Have I ever told you guys how much I LOVE snail mail?! It’s my absolute favorite thing, and I was so happy to get a postcard from my former roommate yesterday! It made me so happy to open up the mailbox and find something for me. Somehow it made me feel like I belonged, a little bit more. There’s nothing like getting mail to make you feel like you’re finally settling in somewhere 🙂
Something that I first noticed when I got here was that the four year old girl continually goes “Coo Coo, Coo Coo” when she starts talking to people. At first I COULD NOT understand why this was a thing, but then I started waking up at normal times (as in, not 4am in the morning every day) and realized there are perpetually pigeons perched outside of this house, and the sound they make is: You guessed it – “Coo Coo, Coo Coo.” Something you should know, however, is that these pigeons are not your average American pigeons. They are HUGE. As in, double the size. As in, you could cook one and get a decent meal out of it.
This is France.
French food is great, but there have been a few times when I’ve seen things pop up and I wondered what the hell they were. This is the first installment of (probably) many questionable items. Ready, set – here we go.
1. Warm milk: I don’t really understand this, as an American. I don’t think I’ve ever seen milk kept warm, sealed and packaged like this before. Of course, I’ve seen it done with Rice and Soy milk, and the such, but never cow milk…this really surprised me – but who am I to judge?
2. Mayo in a toothpaste tube: Can’t get much better than that, huh? It’s a little bit odd to see this in the fridge, or even being used at the dinner table, but I guess we do have squeezable mayo in the US…it’s just not normally in a tube like this where you literally use it exactly like toothpaste (rolling the end and all).
3. I’m not really sure what’s in the top of this bad boy (maybe honey??) but the bottom is vinegar. There are several bottles like this one in the kitchen, and although you can’t see it – they come apart when you use them individually, and then fit perfectly back together to create (what looks like) a solid bottle.
4. I was a bit concerned with this one when I first saw it squirted into a cup. I’m still not sure what it is entirely, but it’s an add water kind of solution that you then drink. The kids love it!
5. Every morning the kids eat bread, cereal, warm milk and this. Basically it’s like Nestle chocolate milk, but what was the most shocking (obviously I’ve seen chocolate milk powder, before) was the artwork on it…Behold: ———->
6. Little crackers from heaven: Ok, so these little biscuits are the best thing to ever happen on earth. The first time I tried one I almost grabbed the whole package and ate the entire thing. In fact, when I FINALLY go grocery shopping on Saturday I’m going to be grabbing a couple of packets, for sure. Basically they’re like graham crackers/a square of animal cracker like taste with chocolate in between. Because let’s be real – if there’s one thing the French love, it’s their chocolate.
When it comes to politics, I rarely stick my neck out in any one direction, but last night I had a conversation with my au pair family that really peaked my interest. See it was announced a few days ago, by the French Prime Minister, that the (then) current cabinet would be resigning their positions and would be replaced/reappointed on Tuesday (today). Kind of a big deal.
From what I’ve been told, and what I’ve researched, the chaos began because of some less than favorable actions of two cabinet members. Rather than call them out directly, though, it was apparently easier to reinstate a new cabinet entirely. Politics.
I’m not particularly sure how this wasn’t meant to directly reflect against the two members actions, however, since they were (it seems) the only ones to be replaced with the new appointments. Everyone else was reinstated to their same positions. But, that’s politics.
The main reason that I am actually interested in this debacle, though, is because of the taxation rates of France. You see, one of the primary issues with the government right now is that France has high unemployment, high taxes and an incredibly low approval rating for the President (17% – the lowest in modern history) and Prime Minister. According to my au pair family, income and property taxes have doubled for French families, in the past year. Creating a huge problem for the economy, because people’s incomes have not.
This being said, taxes in general in this country are exorbitant, and I think it might have been good that the economic minister has been replaced.Even as a non-permanent resident, the sales taxes, which are 20%, are a pretty hard pill to swallow.
Today, for example, I tried to order some watercolors for the kids on Amazon (France). First off, the water colors themselves were ridiculously high in price ( $8 a pop), but while they would have come out somewhere around $10 in the US, here they were $41.00 – and that’s for three basic kids sets (Crayola). As in the ones you buy in the US at Office Max for $1 at a back to school sale.
The fact is, I’ve noticed that pretty much all art supplies, in person or online are incredibly high priced here. I’m not sure if I’m just walking in the wrong stores, or if France just really has something against artists, but I’m really glad, right about now, that I brought an entire suitcase of art supplies instead of clothes.
I’m not really sure how this is going to play out as the year goes by, but I may have to get some US friends to mail me supplies. At this rate, even with exorbitant shipping costs, it’s cheaper to have things mailed to me from the US, than to actually buy them in France. That’s what life has come to.
Over and out.
-E
Darkk Horse Travel 