Rebonjour

Hello, again.  It’s been a long time.

No, my interest in maintaining this blog hasn’t diminished.  Despite my silence, my compulsion to write has continued to scratch at the back of my mind; the scratching gets louder with each day that passes.  Writing for writing’s sake hasn’t compelled me into action.  I’m trying to find my voice, to figure out what I want to say, and write for a reason.   But the bigger reason is that I’m in the midst of a “phase.”  What do I mean by “phase”?  I mean a period of self-questioning, intense self-introspection, taking care of practical business, and generally working my booty off.

The creative instinct gets dulled when “the real world” is right there to pull you back into the matrix.  Creativity gets dulled when there are more pressing worries at hand, like health concerns, immigration status, searching for work, desire to change careers and a general lack of direction.  Not to mention navigating the labyrinth of French bureaucracy that mystifies even French people.  Combine that with feeling vulnerable on a constant basis and general overwhelming anxiety, and it’s a perfect breeding ground for self-doubt.  That ugly self-doubt, it’s a killer instinct.

That said, I feel ready to get back to the keyboard.

I’m ready to slap my self-doubt in the face with a white glove, all proper-like, and say: “You, Sir, are not welcome at this party.”

Even though I’ve still got a lot to learn about (fill in the blank–too many things to list!), I’m turning the corner in my adjustment phase.  I’m learning to greet condescension with a smile.  I’m learning not to feel ashamed of my level of French (which, after a year and a half of study, is well on its way to fluency–this is easy to forget when in a room full of native French speakers).  I’m learning more than ever about what kind of person I am; trial by fire is a sure way to find out what you’re made of.  And in those moments where I feel like crying, I’m learning to flip the table over on that emotion, and laugh and dance out the door, even if it still stings.

And one thing I have been convinced of in these last few months is that, if I feel like this, there’s no way I’m alone.  And for now, I think that’s a good enough reason to continue writing.

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