I got a job offer in Paris .
Granted, it’s part-time work and so my search isn’t over, but this is it. This is the catalyst I needed to move forward. I couldn’t go there with nothing, but now I have something. I may be Ernest Hemingway-style poor, but it’s something. It’s Paris.
And here is where the fear springs it’s ugly head.
I’m planning on selling my home. What if I come back to not being able to afford real estate?
I’m planning on selling most of my furniture and goods. Why have I collected so much over time? What a waste of money. What if I return and have to re-purchase everything at three-times the cost I originally paid? Will I be able to let go of a lot of my goods?
My animals… I need to find a place that is pet friendly. We will be living in close quarters, as Parisian apartments in my price range are small (but we basically spend all weekends in the living room together, anyway). And I’ll have to get some travel kennels for them ($$) and some good drugs to knock them out for the long flight ($$$) as well as some personal pet passport papers.
Speaking of Parisian apartments… $$$. I will likely be alone for majority of my year over there, so I need something in a reasonable price range for one person’s salary.
Speaking of alone; work for my partner might be difficult. He may only be able to do 90 day visits and if he doesn’t find work in that time, he needs to head back to Hamilton. Will I be able to handle that distance? I know myself well enough to know how hard it will be.
I’m planning a sabbatical leave for a year at work, so I won’t lose my job entirely. But I’ll lose that steady salary of a decent amount with full time work and have to settle for part-time gigs with mediocre pay. But someone said to me, “But you have all that right now (financial comfort) and are you happy? No. So clearly money doesn’t make you happy.” It doesn’t, no, but it does make me less fearful.
But what is fear? I’ve heard that if something scares you, it means you’re headed in the right direction in life. No big decision I have made over my (nearly) 30 years hasn’t brought a sense of fear to me, but have I regretted any of them? No. Not at all.
But I know if I don’t do this, if I don’t take this opportunity that’s been given to me to help propel me forward towards Paris, I will regret it with every fiber of my being.
And so begins the visa applications, the apartment researching, the continued job searching to fill my free hours, the home decision (and my ceasing of buying unnecessary items, and my mental sorting of what books I plan to bring with me), the pet organization, and all those other things that come along with moving overseas (there’s a giant list).
It makes me emotional to think that I started this blog two and a half years ago with the intention of chronicling everything I was doing to make my dream of calling Paris my home, and now it’s really looking like my reality.
My eyes are watering. My heart is swelling.
Thank you, universe.
1 thought on “The Catalyst”
[…] just a week before my 30th birthday. Applied to jobs, immediately got an interview, was accepted, this was it… March 2018 – Went to Paris for the first time on my own, loved the feeling of it, […]