Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Monday May 9, 2016

     It's just a pastry...presumably. However, the iconography of its flaky deliciousness extends to a childhood filled with wonder at an animated depiction of a village where you could buy bread, still warm and fresh from the oven. I'm not expecting its inhabitants to burst into song (oh but wouldn't that be wonderful). So today the croissant was ordered for me alongside bread, titled 'Viking', that was for the family. "You always say 'bonjour' to everyone," my host mother, Rebecca, whispered to me. (Which of course made me think that maybe if I started the song they'd join in.) As they spoke, Rebecca and the shopkeeper I realize I am understanding more and more French. This does not change the fact that I have brought grammar books and dictionaries and struggle immensely whenever I have to speak to someone when it is their native language. I on the verge of panic, but I am getting better. It does not change the fact that I am taking a French class in "town" which for us is Saint Germain-En-Laye. There is a chateau in said town. It was when the Sun King wanted to live it down a little from Versailles and "slum" it a bit. 

     I look outside from the large window in my room. It is a window where I cannot bear to close the shutters because of both the natural light and the fact that the shutters are metal and the other bit is the view. My room looks out into "the garden". That it what they call it because the family I am staying with has an English mother and a German/ French father so a lot of very British vocabulary is slowly trickling into my vernacular. So it is not the backyard I see from my window, it is the garden and of course I have to giggle as I do so past the small Toothless figurines, Mjolnir, and the small "One Ring" I have on my windowsill. It's a backyard with trees and little flowers littering the grasses growing sporadically in tufts of white, yellow, and a glorious blue. However, it is not the backyard, it is the garden which we "pop into" and I am very grateful that their first language is English. Of course, we speak French with each other fairly frequently thus far. It was the highest praise when the twins' tennis instructor said that my French is very good, not even with the stipulation 'for an American' but simply 'very good'. Everything around here closes for lunch time in the village I am in. However, there are not many restaurants here, which actually really surprised me. Apparently, save for Paris, restaurants are not really something people frequent as they are quite expensive. Most people go home for lunch and cook a meal, so most businesses are closed for around two hours around lunch time.

     I saw my first chateau today in Saint Germain. It is so beautiful and the whole city is just incredible. People walk everywhere. Aside for the scarcity, parking is a logistical nightmare. All the streets are incredibly narrow, which makes me nervous about driving here. They are going to try to get me a new car to get the kids to school, but apparently driving a car is a ridiculous ordeal around here. There is so much that's so different, but it's good and I am so happy to be here. Today Benji (the oldest at 13) has informed me that I am the best Au Pair they have ever had by far.

I'll take it.

-Alicia R. Farrar
5/24/2016

Chapter One

May 8, 2016

Chapter One

*Note to the reader: The date at the top left is the date that the original journal entry was written, the date accompanied by name is the date that it is being typed in. I may play with the format, but that is simply to clarify confusion.*

     It doesn't feel real yet. It may never feel real to the point of breaching acceptance that I am genuinely here, now. I put pen to paper with a smirk as I write 'Chapter One' because a close friend told me that I would as a heroine putting quill to parchment which I suppose makes me the bard and the warrior or maybe the mage, but let's face it I'm a bit of a healer too...and a scribe. See, this is why I never got into those games because I wouldn't be able to choose. However, in any case I suppose (for me) choosing to go on the adventure in the first place was the hardest choice. In one of my last conversations in Tennessee she held a gift behind her back, took a deep breath and said, "From the moment I truly became your friend you have always reminded me of two of Shakespeare's women (then with a smirk)...and they are?" "Well Beatrice obviously," I replied because she is my favorite and I am far too snarky, ferocious, and willing to be challenged not to empathize with her, but there was another. The brave soul charting lands unknown and finding herself in her journey (I laughed because pay no mind to the fact that there was cross-dressing in the process). Viola. So as I sit in my uncharted lands feeling not quite so brave yet, it seemed only appropriate that the chronicles of my (mis)adventures be scribed within the pages giving her (me) homage.

     He was in the wrong building. I descended the escalator looking for the paper with my name on it, but there was no one. There was no one awaiting me at all. I accepted this, but paced with vigilance until I heard someone frantically shout my name. After fervent apologies on his part, we packed my things and drove. We talked about a great deal as he drove like I was simply meeting up with an old friend after a long time away. As I looked out the window I knew that the signs were foreign, the roads varied just enough to question protocol, but I didn't feel like I was in France, but simply another state I'd never had the chance to visit. Sure, there were the wall made out of porous rocks or the narrow streets made of cobblestone, or the quiet allusion to places I had dreamed of since I had learned of them as a girl that even nuanced to the fact that I was not in proverbial Kansas anymore.

     Even the children and I hit it off, they took to me immediately (though any time around each other and I've no doubts we'll drive each other crazy). As I sat at dinner I had the sensation that these were not strangers to me, nor was I in a strange place. I feel so...at peace here. It just feels...right. Oh it has, at times, been a shitstorm of one bad situation after another, but I know without the shadow of a doubt that all of it happened to bring me to this point. I am beyond words. This is a great adventure and while before I arrived I had a sense of happy panic, now I have a sense of what I can only describe as an anxious sense of belonging. Oh, of course all my anxieties are amped to 11 and the idea of speaking my broken French to a native speaker of the language sends my heart pounding, I made it here so the hard choice is over and I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings.

-Alicia R. Farrar

(5/17/2016)

Prologue

Prologue

     It's a story. It's always been a story. Not in the David Copperfield way...well maybe a bit like it in that I have never really felt like I've been my own protagonist, much less the hero. Well, not until recently and even that self-efficacy has its limits. There are days I feel a bit marooned or treading water with sharp inhales as the wave of circumstance (whether good or bad) wash over me. I have been through a few maelstroms to put it lightly. It has been a wretched decade in my life. I had always been fed this idea that my 20s were supposed to be the best years of my life. How did I spend them? Working with the same company, single, and going to school. I do not necessarily regret any of these attributes save for in pieces and certain details. That is perfectly fine. If my life and I didn't disagree at least a little bit then we wouldn't be in a very good relationship.

     A wise man once told me (and he is a whole different story) that if you have hit the bottom and feel like you have nothing, why not do the impossible. Of course I have never had nothing. I have never truly been without, but I definitely have had some hella low points. There were a specific two weeks after that job of my 20s was gone that I kind of...sank for a while. This is good too. When there is a death you are supposed to mourn. It has taken a long time and a lot of growing to allow myself things/ times like that, to realize that I need them. That I need people. I forget/ don't like admitting that sometimes. I have become very practical about myself and very honest with myself and it has been a struggle, but one of the best decisions I have ever made in my life. 

     I have learned to listen to that still small voice inside. It's the voice that said, "10 years is enough. You just need to go. You'll be just fine, but go. Your time here is done." It's the voice that said, "These people are toxic. Stop giving people who are terrible and do nothing but drag you down so many chances. Sometimes that empathy needs to be quiet because it can hurt more than help you. Balance it with logic. Letting go is good sometimes." It's the voice that said, "You are going to make it through this. This is a speed bump and because you have gone through this you are going to be able to help and reach out to people nobody else really can." It's the voice that said, "Shhh. You don't have to listen to all the voices in your head. The thousand questions and what ifs don't always have to be answered. It's ok to be anxious, to feel afraid, to panic, to not be able to keep up with your mind, to have to take deep breaths when you feel overwhelmed. This does not make you deficient." Naturally, I haven't always listened so sometimes the still small voice has follow-ups. "Of course that person hurt you. You are strong. You are not alone. You will hurt, but you will heal." Then the one that brought me to my current circumstances: "Well if you're not going to leave willingly I am going to force you out. There is something else you are supposed to be doing" and after the two weeks where it was difficult to even get out of bed, "Alright, you have your period of mourning, which is appropriate because this was a death in your life, but now you have a choice; you can continue to wallow in your misery and self-pity, or you can do what you have been called to since you were 14."

     So I am writing this from my room in France. It's a part of my dream. Since I was 14 it has been my dream to teach English in France and I am currently an Au Pair (it was very important to me to do the Au Pair because I wanted to understand French culture through the context of a family, improve my French, and live in the country before believing myself capable of teaching their children). An Au Pair is, essentially, a nanny. I help the family in whatever way I can. I have made food, helped with the dishes etc. It has been a whirlwind thus far, a proverbial crash course in my first time being out of the US. However, like any adventure I will chronicle my stories. However it is important that my readers know, it has been a long and difficult journey to get here, but I am so grateful. So I could be cliché and tell you to follow your dreams and when you hit the bottom that the only way is up and cite these things, but I think instead I'll send a different message to someone I wish could have heard it: So I will probably post to both here and Facebook (Facebook will likely be easier with the pictures) 

Dear 14 year old me,

You are not alone, worthless, unloved, useless, or stupid. There’s more to live for than you have yet to realize. I know it feels terrible right now, I validate your feelings, but I tell you that your perspective is limited. I wish I could tell you that life will be all downhill from here, but I can’t. Yes, there are terrible things that are going to happen in your life; Dad loses his job (a couple of times actually), you get cancer, you lose best friend after best friend (it’s not your fault, they were only meant to be in your life for a little while), and after years of school you can’t get a job with your degree. You get fired from a job you had for 10 years. All of these things happen, but you grow because of them and they teach you that you’re stronger than your circumstances.

Put down the razor. It may get worse, but I swear to you it also gets better. You know that dream you have buried deep down that everyone keeps telling you is impossible? The dream that scares you to speak aloud because every time you have all you hear is the naysayers telling you it’s never going to happen? Sure it takes you a while, but it happens. Where I am now I got on a plane and I am in France (yes, France it's OK I am freaking out too) and I am learning so much. I am being smart (that doesn't change) enough to do this in a way that will best benefit me in the long run, but brave enough to do exactly what you always hoped but never believed would happen. You get to live your dream and it would never have happened if all these bad things didn’t happen, if they didn’t shape you into being brave enough and strong enough to move past the fear. If you feel like you have nothing, why not do the impossible? I love you. It takes a while to realize, to accept, but I love you. You love you. You are loved.

So this blog will be a reflection of myself and my experiences; it may be a bit messy, a bit honest, maybe a bit crass, a bit ridiculous at times, but this is my dream, my life and I can't tell you how happy I am to finally be living it.

-Alicia R. Farrar