Back in Action.

So it has definitely been awhile. Maybe grab a cup of coffee (if you are reading this in the morning), or a beer (…if you are reading this in the morning).

Go pee now if you have to. This is going to be a long one.

My trip back to Calgary was a jampacked, crazybusy, wonderful whirlwind, and I made use of every minute. I planned back-to-back coffees and lunches, got all caught up with friends and family, and enjoyed the little luxuries home had to offer. Breakfasts at Bumpy’s, a homemade meal at my mom’s, reasonably priced everything…

Prince Charming and Lovely Roommate met me at the airport, and it was outstanding to see them both. There were no tears when I saw PC this time, probably because we were both just too excited for the weeks together that we had ahead of us. Amid the chaos, we managed to squeeze a few dates in – between moving, going to a wedding, and going to B.C. for a few days, we watched jeopardy, went to the movies and took some long walks. All in all, going home felt absolutely wonderful.

Almost too wonderful.

Although it was tough, saying goodbye to Prince Charming at the airport was probably the easiest it’s been so far. Though both of us were still obviously upset, I think we realized over the time that I was home that we’re now in the same place, and that the hardest part of this whole operation is probably behind us. This time when I passed through security, I was okay. I wasn’t sobbing, I had my shit together, I was ready to go back and finish what I had started.

Or so I thought.

When I boarded the plane and walked down the little accordion thing, it really hit me that I was leaving. Suddenly, huge marble sized tears filled my eyes and started rolling down my cheeks.

WHAT? Wait! I was fine! I was fine!! What IS happening?!

I mean I was sad, yes, but this was a totally unforeseen physical reaction…25 years old, and I am unsuccessfully trying to hide the fact that I am full on crying as I flash the flight attendant my boarding pass.  Perfect. Thank you, emotions.

I settled into the seat I would call home for the next 8-9 hours and tried to reassure myself that I had made the right decision. In my gut I knew that I wasn’t ready to wrap things up in Paris just yet, but it didn’t make leaving PC and everyone else that I’ve missed terribly any easier. I tried to ignore myself by watching the end of a Zac Efron movie (which I’m pretty sure is only okay to do on a plane) and eventually fell asleep. When I woke up on the other side of the Atlantic, I still felt like there was a boulder on my chest. Not even buying wine gums at Heathrow’s beautiful Terminal 5 could cheer me up.

When I finally touched down in Paris, the first thing I did was try to call PC. I didn’t get through, but I did get a text message from Australienne telling me to get in touch and get back in the game. I looked up from my phone and looked around. Families were kissing each other on both cheeks, and Parisian French was filling my ears.

Yes, I thought. I can do that. I will do that.

Luckily I had some Canadian friends in Paris, which made that first night back a bit easier too. I met up with them after landing, and we shared some wine on the quais that face the Eiffel tower. I was so happy and grateful to have them in town for the first few days of being back, but when they all left for Amsterdam, it was back to flying solo.

Being over here has actually taught me that I can do that. Though I am a pretty social person, I have had to learn how to stay sane when I don’t have much going on, and that’s what I needed to do this week. Normally it only takes me a few days to get used to being by myself, but this week I didn’t bounce back as fast as I normally do. In fact, I didn’t bounce at all.

This week I was a flat basketball.

I didn’t want to get out of bed, I didn’t exercise, I was always late so I took the metro instead of biking, and I called Prince Charming bawling at 2 a.m. Twice.

Going home had been great, and even when the not so great parts of life at home started to sink in a little bit, it was still worth it because at the end of the day, I saw PC and together we could either hash it out or laugh it off.

But that’s not an option here. And neither is showing up for work at 11:00 a.m. or eating ONLY desserts as meals.

I needed to make a plan. STAT.

Though the original idea was to stay in Paris until December, before leaving for Calgary, I had been tossing around the idea of coming home in October. I don’t feel like I am done with Paris just yet, but I do feel like I am getting closer to the end. When I arrived in February I felt overwhelmed by life, then during my time here, on bike rides and in cafés, I established a kind of peace with everything. I now know exactly what kind of work I want to do be doing, what I can handle and what I can’t, and how to pull myself together when my chips are down. In short, I am feeling more “figured out” then I ever have, and now that I know what I want, I don’t want to waste any time.

I started by changing my perspective, which is kind of like pulling yourself of automatic and throwing it into manual. Deep down, I know I still want to be here, so now I’m trying to make the most of everyday. I had dinner chez l’Australienne on Friday night and we biked back to the pub we worked at for a few drinks. Being out and about on the bike at night certainly made me feel better, and today I wrote half this post in a vintage brasserie near my flat. I started a list  of all of the things I want to do before I go, and I am looking forward to filling my days with things I have been meaning to do for months. Some of them are pretty standard (Get my butt to Versailles already!) while others will just be absolutely joyful (i.e. trying a pastry from Eric Kayser, and taking a few hip hop classes)

This week promises to be better, not only because of this to-do list approach, but because my Dad is coming to visit next week! We are going to do a tour of the Loire Valley castles, and I am totally excited to show him all my hangouts.

When I think about October at 2 a.m. it feels like years from now, but when I think of filling my last 8 weekends in France, it doesn’t feel so far away.  Although I value home more than ever, I know that it can wait just a little longer.

Here’s to 8 weeks of Parisian bliss.