Today I am in Paris, by myself. Sitting in the coffee shop at the Gare de l’Est, happy to be out of the train and not quite ready to go to the next place, yet. I am fine here. It takes me time to acclimate, always has, but now I am not rushed to be anywhere and this, in and of itself, is a fact that I can celebrate. I can sit in this nothingness, nowhere to be, no expectations. The music here is fine, the chair comfortable, the place anonymous. This is enough for me now. For after weeks, months, years of busyness and yearning, hustle and rush, thinking always of the next thing, all my tired body wants is to be still, to be present. I have nothing left in me, it seems, nothing. Now that is not what I want to say, but that is what comes out. It’s not that I have nothing left, but that I don’t care about the things I used to. Of those things I still do care about, I feel that my perspective on them is changing. As I am writing, I worry about what you might think, reading this, and that I will let go of, too. My head is filled with a tumble dryer of thoughts and feelings, but the predominant is tiredness. As I take a moment to reflect, that feeling changes to peace. I don’t have to be anywhere, do anything, meet anyone. My time is mine and mine alone. I can sit here, in peace, and reflect on what has gotten me here, today.

One year ago I decided to try a different way. I decided to try to be sober. I stopped drinking alcohol and see how that might help me to improve my life. One year later, I sit here completely sober. I’ve given up alcohol, cigarettes, cannabis, CBD, Xanax, and Lexapro. In place of these things I’ve started doing breathwork, exercise, healthier eating, and focusing on changing my mindset – this last bit has been the hardest. I find that my thoughts have been overwhelmingly negative for as long as I can remember. Listening to these negative thoughts has created the narrative that I’ve told myself, they have defined my story. I used the substances mentioned above to try to quiet these thoughts instead of trying to change them. Now that I am sober, I am left with just myself and that, my friends, is frightening.

Now I come to the page with a renewed sense of purpose, but also, a heightened sense of fear and trepidation. What if I don’t say the right thing? What if it doesn’t flow? What if there is no connection with others? My self has returned but now everything feels new, and raw. I feel my emotions now, and fear is one that is often at the forefront. Daily, minute-by-minute even, I must combat the negative thoughts in my head with active reassurance. I know I am not in my old ways still, yet the new habits are yet unformed. They are still feel fluid, like they might just be passing through, and negotiable. Also, what if I fail at this? What if I can’t? This experience of growth and change has challenged me and my faith in myself and in the Other – God, the Universe, or whatever.

In waking up, as this phase could be called, I feel as though I am waking through layers of heavy dreams and weighted blankets. Thoughts take a time to stick, even. I though of this many times before I really let my self feel it: I haven’t made any of my children a book of photographs of their birth and first months of life. Not one complete book. There is no book of our wedding, engagement, life in London, DC, or France. It is like they never happened, existing only in a distant memory. Sure there are a few photographs in frames around the house, a few small photo books, but there is no story, no lineage, no connection. How have I let myself miss out on this? How have I cheated my children out of their memories? We lived in our first house in France, for 5 years. This was the children’s first home and there is almost no evidence of this, at all. How could I have been so blind to this error? How have I let so many other things take importance over this gesture of love, value, and sanctity of the life and family that we’ve created? How, dear god, how??? When I realise something like this, the only thing to do is to try to forgive myself for this mistake, to let myself mourn the loss of what might have been different, and to consider how I might do better now. I have to tell myself in my tiny, everyday thoughts, that it can be ok now, it is not too late, I can be better, feel better, and do the things I know will bring about better things. I am in the middle of the change, in the middle of something that will bring about better things. So I tell myself, in these little moments, that good is coming. I often hear that it is not possible to be behind in your own life, so I have to choose to believe that I am right on time.

My friend calls, the reason I have come into Paris today, on a Sunday, to see where we should meet. I feel a rush of panic as my time is suddenly limited. It is ok, I think, I still have time. So we agree on a plan, and I am back here to close up this tiny chapter. I have so much more to say, to try to describe the changes that are upon me, the exhaustion that comes from finally learning to take care of myself while also taking care of my family. How could I have let my self go for so long? How did I ignore the central piece of my life for my whole life? I think I have these answers already, inside of me, but like the others they must come slowly as to not knock me down completely. Your mind, your ego protects you so that you can keep going and living your life. So for now, I must be content with the fact that the answers will come, in ways I don’t expect, I’m certain of that. Now my work is to take care of myself, today, in the best way I know how. I will have a walk and a talk with my friend, in the warm Paris Sunday sun, and that will be good, too. Things will be good, better than before, even if the now is difficult. Even if the now is difficult, at least now I am in it, fully, pushing out the negative thoughts with good ones, until little by little I won’t have to push them out anymore, as they will be gone. The good ones will have worn in and the positive habits will have stuck. The tears won’t be as frequent, the fatigue wont be as strong. Until then, I’ll tell my self that it is ok, it is good, life is a blessing. My children are well and my husband loves me. I will figure it out. It will never be perfect but it will be good. When it is bad, I will get through it. New things are coming, better than before, because I am better than before. There will always be love, and I will always be right on time for my life.