L'appel du vide Part 2: Prelude
I could really use a hug right now. It is weird how I have never considered myself a hugging person, but I suppose I really am. I wish to be clear that what follows is a bout of unabashed honesty and transparency. So if that is not something you are down for, by all means feel free to stop here and I will be none the wiser. However, if you choose to stay know that I appreciate it very much.
In terms of interpersonal relationships I have a hard time with proximity to people or relating to people for that matter so I have only really hugged those that I truly felt close to. So I thought nothing of it for a while until recently I saw something that kind of jarred me. It said that there was a study done by Yale University that people who take longer baths and showers are more likely to feel lonely and isolated and that subconsciously these people substitute these long showers and baths for emotional warmth. Damn. Anyone who has lived with me for any length of time knows that I always take long showers. Always. To the point that when they told me that I wasn't going to have to pay for utilities in my apartment here in France I sighed in relief because I know my tendency to take showers lasting at least half an hour. I used to pass it off as I had long hair and a lot of body to wash, but it isn't quite true. The truth has always been that it feels nice and warm and it feels like being held, and I felt less lonely for a little while. I have always kind of realized the honesty of the situation but refused to admit it because it sounded silly. Well now, would you look at that, I am backed up by science. So even though I am here, living my dream- well let me back up a bit.
This is it. This is my dream and has been since I was 14; to teach English in France. For years and years I never believed it would happen. It was that dream that I buried deep down because every time I said it out loud all I could hear were the voices (mostly my own) saying that I wasn't good enough, I wouldn't make it, and that some dreams are better left shiny, distant, burning stars to be left by the side of the road in favor of being practical. I do not regret coming here. Not for a second. I am so grateful to be living here, to have this chance to live my dream. Most people do not get that opportunity. I remain in constant awe and there are days that have to repeat more than simply "Je suis en France" but "J'habite en France": I live in France. I wake up in the morning sometimes and have to remember that this is real. That I didn't make this up. That I was brave enough to make this happen. Then there are days like today where I don't feel so brave.
I have wicked social anxiety. A lot of people don't know that. I don't talk about it a lot because it is admitting a weakness and I have always prided myself on being so strong. I do though. People like my Kelsey and my family are aware of it. I almost didn't go down to meet Kelsey's parents because it absolutely terrified me to be in an environment where I didn't know anyone, where I was unfamiliar, where Kelsey was the only person I knew. What if they didn't like me? What if I was rejected? What if I say something stupid? I almost didn't attend the first "nerdy boys" party for that same reason. Parties, by the way, unnerve me. I hate when I only know one person because even though small talk was a part of my job description for 10 years I feel awkward and flustered, especially around people I don't know. I end up being that girl chilling around near the chips and salsa.,,or hanging out with the dog. My good friend Jon once told me I was the "Anti-social life of the party" and I think it is such a wonderfully accurate description. So when the term 'ambivert' came out I was in awe. I tend to be incredibly introverted, but I can be fun and social, but only for short periods of time. I recharge by being alone because it is what I am used to. I know that I can adapt if thrown into a new situation or put in with a group of people where I don't know anybody. Now, I absolutely know in practicality that it won't be so bad. I know that I can't make new friends if I don't socialize, and that I am not as alone as I feel. I have people across the world who care about me and are there for me. I know all these things in the back of my mind, but that creeping panic with screaming voices is hard to override with logic most of the time.
So, that is one of the many reasons I came here to do this; to try and face my fears and social anxieties by jumping in headfirst to a country where my native language is not spoken, where I know absolutely no one, where everyone is a stranger, and all of the environments are new. Most of the time I am good. I am now on a first name basis with all of the English teachers and I am really good at this. (Yet again, one of things I knew in practicality, but had a hard time accepting.) I have students asking when I am going to be in their class again and have teachers fighting over my time slots. All of the teachers and administration have been so incredibly helpful, kind, and supportive. I still get nervous speaking French here. Even after my 8 years of French education and 19 years of speaking the language my level is not that good. Which is so frustrating because I know that it's all in there somewhere and that it is just a matter of refreshing what I have already learned. I know that. So I study every single day. My roommate's good friend, who is a Spanish teacher here, has told me in the two weeks he has spent time at our apartment that my level has improved and from him that really means so much. My lunch meeting where I invite students to come and just speak English with me went really well and I believe this next week it will be even better.
Yet, despite all of these wonderful things that are happening I feel incredibly alone. It will hit me in small waves. I don't get homesick, not really. I just really miss people. I miss my family, I miss my friends. I miss petting my dogs. I miss hugging the people I care about. The French are not huggers...like at all. My roommate and I have barely gotten to the point that he will let me hug him when he leaves on a trip. Even that is brief. You don't realize how much you want to be held until someone hugs you for just that one extra second and you go 'oh' and it hits you so hard. So I have been single for going on 10 years now and most of the time it doesn't bother me, but then there are those moments where I feel the longing of intimacy and having that person in your life to hug anytime you want to. I have always fancied myself an independent person, which I am for the most part. I actually like travelling alone. I love that I walked the streets of Paris alone and have known the city long enough to navigate without referencing a map. I love that I pass for French to the point that tourists have come up to me asking for directions. Yet, even with all these little victories...there are points that I feel quite empty. I wish to reiterate that I don't regret being here and that I am happier here than I have been in years, and that my loneliness does not diminish that.
There are just these moments where I let my mind get quiet and it hits me like a Mac truck. I think perhaps it is one of the reasons I play music all the time...aside from the fact I turn into a karaoke superstar for hours at a time...my poor downstairs neighbors. The worst of it is that I know my isolation is, for the most part, self-inflicted. For example, there are the other language assistants in the nearby larger town who are really interesting and wonderful people. It is a mere 42 minutes by train. I know in practicality that I could go over there and hang out with them any weekend. There are teachers who have told me that if I need a ride or a place to stay that I can leave with them on Friday. I don't. Instead I hole myself up in my apartment writing lessons and just passing the time and there have been weekends where I have gone 36 hours without seeing another human being. I am a weekend hermit. In practicality I know I don't need to be. However, to hang out with people there, due to the lack of trains between our towns, I have to ask to stay with someone. It makes me feel like a burden. I hate that feeling so much. It is one of the things I hated the most about having cancer. I didn't mind being sick. I hated feeling like a burden. I hated feeling weak and needing to depend on people because I was too weak to take care of myself. Yet again, I have always tried to be strong and independent. Plus I know that most of the other assistants have plans with the people they live with most of the time, and so they are not always available and the idea of being an inconvenience walks hand in hand with being a burden in my mind so instead I convince myself that I have lessons for the week to prepare so it's better for me to stay home anyways.
So I woke up this morning after trying to record an update video for my friends and family the night before that turned into a disaster because I had left it 'public' and soon became sexually harassed and propositioned by dozens of men across the world who proceeded to friend request me and due to their lewd comments I had to cut the video short. I already get flustered talking to people and so I am really glad I decided to delete the video because I was starting to stutter (something I do when I get nervous and really flustered) and you could see the panic and embarrassment. All I wanted to do was update my friends and family. So in case you wondered if sexually harassing, degrading, and saying crude things to and about women was strictly an American thing, oh no, it is a worldwide phenomenon. I was angry and I was frustrated and I was flustered. I know it was not my fault. I spent the next hour or so changing all my privacy settings, blocking those profiles, and deleting every friend request. I make those videos to communicate (because I know it is something I am really bad at) and to feel connected to people in whatever small way I can.
Then when I finally woke up today the loneliness, isolation, and depression hit me all at once in a wave. I literally had no motivation to wake up. I didn't want to get up because there was nothing I wanted to do, I didn't want to be awake. I went back to sleep for two hours because there was nothing within me that wanted to do anything. I hadn't had an episode like that in a very long time. Even when I finally forced myself awake at 3pm I was not quite here. I went to the kitchen and spent an hour or so making myself lunch. It was beautiful outside and deep down I wanted to go on my balcony and read, but I had no motivation to do so. I didn't want to do anything. I finish making lunch and take three bites before I realized I didn't want to do that either. That is how I know it is really bad; when I don't want to eat. I sit there staring at this food that I spent over an hour on and I practice self-contemplation and try to analyze why I feel like this. All of the loneliness, all of the isolation, all of the realization that I have people there for me, but that they are hundreds of miles away just came crashing down on me. I dropped my fork and just started crying. I am not a crying person at all, but I just started crying and it was the sort of painful that took my breath away.
I sat there shaking and I knew I had to do something or that I was going to crawl right back into bed and just sleep until I couldn't feel it anymore. So I called my mom. My family has just moved into a new house so I fought to override that feeling of being an inconvenience and I called. God bless my Mom. She took me on a tour of their new house and seeing my parents and my brother and my dogs was wonderful and it was rough. I have no poker face and she asked what was wrong. I explained everything. "You need a hug," she says with a sadness that I know is because she can't give me one. "Until you can get one, get out of the house. Go for a walk. Just get out of the apartment for a little bit. Then when you see some of the teachers, who I know care about you, ask them for a hug because you need it and socially normal or no I am sure they would be happy to give you one. I'm sure even your roommate would." I made excuses for a while but I knew she was right. So I did just that. I went outside, even though it was dark already and I walked to the grocery store. I bought some food and even a dessert that I really like because it makes me happy. I came back home and I put everything up in the right place. I wasn't really hungry but I knew I had to eat. So as I am reheating my lunch (pretty much spaghetti with a black pepper sauce instead of tomato) I decided to do something ridiculous for the sake of being ridiculous. I put it in a tortilla. Why? Because I could and because it made me smile.
So after eating a bit I decided that I was, in fact, going to take a nice long, hot shower. (Something that is not possible most of the time because the water turns cold after five minutes and doesn't heat back up for another five and then only turns warm.) It turned cold but I just turned the water aside and shaved until it warmed up, which it not only did, but became nice and hot, almost like it knew I needed it. My watery hug. Then as I got out I took care of myself. I used the good lotion everywhere, not just the places that "needed it". I plucked my eyebrows and put the good face cream on. I stood outside for a while and looked at the moon. I let my mind go quiet and it was peaceful instead of screaming.
I still miss my family and my friends. I am constantly flustered. I feel lonely sometimes. However, I have decided that just as I did when I came here that I am going to fight it and override my anxieties to allow myself to be in the lives of others. I still listen more than I speak. I still can't talk to men I find attractive (so no, I don't have a French boyfriend...yet). So when I say that the comments and likes that are left on the things I post, know that I mean it with such an intense sincerity. I will hopefully pick this back up and begin writing again. So, thank you for reading this. It is a strange form of love for me. So, here is to living life less lonely.
