More Than Temporary

More Than Temporary

Last year when I left for Paris, I thought it would only be for a year. With that in mind, I rented my house completely furnished, packed or stored my personal belongings, found a new home for my beloved “puppy” Bentley (and cried like a baby) and left my car at my sister’s house.

As things happen, Paris has become more than a temporary home

  • I am now engaged to a wonderful Frenchman, and …

  • I am looking at the intricacies of an international marriage and long, long term visa!

  • Ha!

I wrote a good bit about the transition last year. It was new and crazy and both exciting and challenging to contemplate. What to pack, what to leave, handling the emotional fallout of leaving my family here in the states. Having just lost my Dad a month before after a long, courageous battle, there were lots of ties to bind. In some ways, even my grieving process was cauterized by the impending adventure, by the brevity of time left.

Because of this loss, and my baby sister’s terrible auto accident, and the million other things that had to happen to make it all work, I developed serious doubts, had a lot of guilt (I was abandoning my loved ones after enormous and painful losses), and misgivings. I suddenly wasn’t as sure as I had been during the planning process.

So, what happens when we take on all these emotions?

When we allow thoughts of doubt and fear to become predominant?

Well, I can tell you what I did. I had a little mini meltdown and sobbed in my front yard the night my family came for a farewell dinner (and to collect my puppy).

How’d that work out for me?

My brother in law just held me at first. And then he reminded me this was my dream. He told me to go. He told me Bentley would be well loved. He told me I would be missed, but all I had to do was call, and he would come and get me (which is saying a lot because the man doesn’t like to fly and has no desire to set foot on the European Continent). He allowed me to cry through my self doubt, and truthfully, sudden panic.


(and whoever is reading this)

Any new adventure, habit, even the sensation of hunger, can create doubt (and perhaps panic) just because we don’t know. We can’t know what the outcome will be. If, however, we can stop long enough to accept that we are flipping out because it is simply something new, allow the emotions to wash over us, catch and check our thoughts, it will pass.

Fast forward 13 months.

This time I am packing with a different viewpoint. I still miss Bentley, but I know he is well loved. I jokingly tell people that he would choose his new home over living with me again.

I know my sisters are doing well. My son is returning from California to rent my house.

I’ve been to Tennessee since returning to the states. It was painful to walk through the den that had been my Dad’s bedroom for 5 years, see the lift chair I spent many hours in when he was no longer able to sit in it himself. The hospital bed is gone. The wheelchair is not parked in the corner. There are no pipes on the DR table. The aroma of his tobacco has faded into a subtle nuance. But it was also cathartic to know he could walk again, outside the earthly shell that held him captive for the last few years of his life. And to know that he is no longer in chronic pain.

My step mom, still grieving after 50 years with my Dad, is a beautiful, beautiful woman, and stronger than she imagined.

And me? Well, I just conducted a “Moving Back to Paris” sale and parted with most of my furniture, amid the most amazing well wishes from perfect strangers. If I had a dime for every time someone told me how courageous I am, well you know the rest of the saying.

Am I courageous? Perhaps. Some days I feel I am and some days it feels more like a natural progression of putting one foot in front of the other. Maybe it is just that realization that we are given dreams and passions in the same way we are given life. Going to Paris for me became possible after I published my first book. There is just a mystery that transforms us when we accomplish one of our long-held goals. Bringing writing back into my life meant going to Paris was not optional.

So, at least 3 times per week someone, here, or in France asks me, why I did it. Sometimes the entire story is too long, so I simply say, “Why Not?”

And that is my question to you.

If you have a dream you aren’t actively pursuing,

Why Not?

I developed several coaching programs using writing as a tool to unlock your creative MOJO and fire up the courage train.

Take a look at them. Let me show you how to do those things you long to do. Let me help you create your MasterPiece Life.

Follow the link to schedule your free 30-minute discovery call. Do it today.