The Silly Worry I Have About Returning to Europe

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I am not talking about plane crashes or anything that catastrophic (I hate flying so let’s not even go there). It is that Europe won’t live up to my expectations again. Montpellier was exactly what I needed all those years ago. At that time, I was still reeling from my first breakup, truly on my own for the first time in my life without the security of my twin sister, and feeling constrained by my OCD. Deciding to go abroad on my own was a deliberate choice that I made to get out of my comfort zone. I knew more than anyone else that it would not be easy for me, but I did not want easy. I wanted to show everyone-including my ex-boyfriend who didn’t think I was strong enough to do it-that I could plant my feet on different ground and make a half-life in the shadow of the Cevennes mountains. It is no great wonder that I want to pick up where that life left off. Reading my journals from that time, you can see me going from uncertain, anxious, and heartsick, to someone wild with discovery. It is quite a thing to behold. In many ways, I am not much different from that girl who went abroad on her own. I still have that dullness of heartache that hasn’t mended quite right. I still feel that I have something to prove. I still want transformation. I just hope that I find the sights of Southern France and Italy enough to stir that change in me for a second time. I can’t wait.

 

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