Figuring It All Out

The first month of 2009 I was terrified and nervous beyond belief. I’d never left the country alone. I had never been across the ocean. Stepped in it, yes. Flown over it, no. January was spent preparing for the best experience of my life. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I wanted to back out so much but I knew it would be the biggest regret of my life. It was the one thing in my life I always wanted to do and would never get another chance. January 31st rolled around and I boarded an early plane to Chicago to start my journey to a temporary new life.

Many people didn’t understand why I was going. People thought I didn’t deserve to go. I wasn’t fluent in French, I wasn’t majoring in French. I was just totally unworthy. I tried not to care that people thought that way but when I could see it in their expressions is when it hurt the most. That month at home I spent preparing, the looks got to me, they made me doubt myself. Of course I didn’t deserve to go, but who really deserves an opportunity like that? I didn’t have any need for a semester abroad. It was purely selfish. I wanted to do it. Why should I feel bad about following a dream most people just brush aside? I was always on the sidelines, my whole life. I never just went for it. I never took chances. This was finally my chance and I took it.

I flew to Paris alone. I barely slept a wink on the 8 hour flight. I had way too many emotions flowing through my body. It still wasn’t real. The plan was to meet three girls who were flying in from Dallas just an hour later. Thank goodness the plan worked out. We all figured out how to get to the train station. We bought tickets and got on the train seconds before it left for Clermont-Ferrand, my home for the next 5 months. I was still in disbelief. We had so much luggage, we sat on the floor in the back of a random car.

Thankfully, when we got to Clermont, two students were there to pick us up. They helped us find our dorms and we settled in. Once we got to Clermont I quickly realized my level of French was way behind everyone else. I was so overwhelmed I had no idea what I was thinking. That first night I sat in my dorm room alone and cried. The next few days were a little less overwhelming but still pretty emotional. I couldn’t get the internet or my calling card to work. I was just like a little girl. I just wanted to call my parents, to hear their reassuring voices. I couldn’t. I was alone. I barely knew the other girls. They were all pairing off it seemed and I was the odd man out. I was typical me. I was reserved, shy, scared. February and March I spent just trying to get used to the culture and hearing and speaking French everywhere. I craved American food. I missed the general politeness of Americans. I missed my friends.

My birthday was probably the hardest day that whole semester. I remember I was sick with a cold. I still hadn’t connected with anyone and I terribly missed my family and friends. Once again, I sat in my room alone and cried in the middle of the day. We had plans to go out for my birthday that night. I wasn’t really all that enthused but I went anyway. After dinner, on our walk home, was the first turning point of the semester. Christy and I were fed up with our friends and ducked into a bar to use the bathroom. We decided to stay, we ordered a couple drinks and actually talked for the first time. It was the first time I felt I had made an actual friend. As we were sitting, two guys asked us to dance. Christy was hesitant but soon got over it. We danced with them, they bought us drinks, and we eventually went with them to a dance club across town. It was a pretty risky move but it was a hell of a lot of fun. We stayed out till about 5 am and walked home incredibly happy. That night is when I really loosened up. It was incredible. After that we took almost every opportunity thrown at us which made the whole experience so much better.

All this time I had been attending French classes at the university and assisting in English classes. I pretty much loathed my French classes. I was the only american in my class. That part didn’t get to me as much as being the only person besides my teacher who wasn’t even Chinese. I was in a class of about 20 people. They were all Chinese and always stared at me. Anyway, I didn’t like going to class. I was miserable.

The first 2 weeks of April we had Spring Break. My mom flew over and I met up with her in Paris. We traveled to Germany, Ireland, and London. It was incredible. I’ve never had more fun with my mom. I was so happy at this point. When I got back to Clermont I was a little depressed again and coming down with a nasty cold which left me bed ridden for a week. I figured out later it was probably the flu. It was not fun. I had missed a week of class. I still went to the English classes but I never stepped foot in my French classes again. Yea, learning French was the “reason” I went. At least it was the excuse to be able to go. I honestly just wanted to experience new things, I wanted to meet people, I wanted to live in another culture and travel. I really felt like I was just wasting a great opportunity sitting in a classroom learning how to order food at a restaurant when I could actually be at a French restaurant ordering food.

I stopped going to class and became the go to girl. If someone wanted to hang out, they called me. If someone needed someone to talk to, they called me. If someone wanted to stay out late on a weeknight, they called me, I didn’t have anywhere to be. It was amazing. I was living the dream. I met tons of people, kissed plenty of French boys and ate more than my share of croissants in the park. I took long walks through town and just took pictures. I wrote, pondered life, fell in love with a town I was terrified of just months prior. It became a home, not just the place I happened to live. I never wanted to leave.

It may have been a really stupid choice, dropping out of my classes, my parents would definitely think so, if they knew. The grades for the classes were based on end of the year exams. They were just pass/fail. I flew to Rome the week of my tests, met up with my sister, and told my parents I had just one test the beginning of the week. I received an incomplete on my transcript. One of the biggest lies/secrets I’ve ever kept from my parents. The other big secret also occurred in France, but we won’t get into that, because, well, it’s a secret.

When I met up with my sister in Rome to travel around Europe I was heart broken. I had just left my home and new friends whom I would probably never see again. I was excited to see my sister, I was excited to be in Rome but the heartache definitely out-weighed the happiness. When I was in the museums in Florence I just compared them to the Louvre and Musée d’Orsay. When we walked the small streets in Italy and Germany I thought about Clermont-Ferrand. When we finally ended up in Paris I thought about the train station that would whisk me away with the purchase of a one-way ticket to where part of my heart was left behind. I tried to be excited, I was at times. It was fun, I loved being with my sister after so long but the whole trip was just a countdown to being back in the States, and away from my new life.

Being back home was pretty weird. It was weird because I compared it to France. It was even weirder because it felt like I had never left. I spent the Summer trying hard to not let the memory of France go. I wanted to keep it forever. I wanted to keep the new me. When someone wanted to hang out, I did it. When there was an opportunity to try something new, I took it. It quickly faded as the school year started and I got busy.

Nobody cared that I went to France, nobody wanted to hear the stories that I held so dear. People didn’t like the new Lisa. New Lisa talked too much, she lost her inhibitions, she was outgoing and didn’t take crap. The new me wasn’t accepted and that really got to me. I loved the new me. I loved that I finally took risks, I loved that I could talk to new people without almost having a heart attack. It’s weird though because I feel like people don’t like the fact that I have this new found confidence. They aren’t used to me having an opinion and showing my feelings.

After getting back and living in Oklahoma again, I’ve never felt so lost in my entire life. I don’t know where my life is heading. I don’t know what people are going to remain as big parts of my life. Almost every morning, I was completely crippled, I couldn’t get out of bed, I didn’t want to face the people who I felt were bringing me down. I didn’t want to be in Oklahoma at all. I wanted to be in my little, ghetto dorm room. I wanted to walked aimlessly through cobblestone alleyways.  I almost failed a class, and distanced myself from the people I used to be close to. I started to drink way more than I should. I said things I shouldn’t have. I became reckless and felt completely alone. I had nobody to actually talk to. I just went through the motions. No one seemed to notice which made me feel even more alone. I’m finally getting better but I think when the one year mark comes next month there will be a lot of thoughts and some sadness.

I try to think of it as a great memory full of stories and excitement. I try to remember it is something to be cherished, something not many people get to experience. I try to smile because it happened instead of crying because it’s over but that has proven to be much easier said than done. I’m trying to look ahead in my life. I’m trying to realize that I’m coming to a big turning point in my life and there are so many stories waiting to be experienced. I can’t wait for this coming year. I’m sure it will be filled with hardships, rejections, and tears but it will also be full of opportunity, hope, and love.