The last time I was in Paris was nearly 15 years ago. I remember walking off of the plane and into a sense of panic. I didn’t speak a word of French. I didn’t have a way to contact anyone. We didn’t have GPS and internet on cellphones in 2005.
My anxiety subsided as soon as I found my bearings enough to get myself to where I was set to meet up with my stepdad. He was my sense of security in the unknown. He was my guide, my translator & my body guard. That trip is one of my favorite memories. And Paris quickly became my favorite city.
Fast forward to a few months ago, when my coach challenged me with a question: “When was the last time you did something that scared you?” And I had a hard time thinking of something substantial.
I don’t know if it’s because I tend to choose not to focus on the negative so I block those experiences from my memory, or if I see opportunity and adventure where others often see obstacles and adversity, or if I really just haven’t done that many scary things…
Regardless, that question inspired me to think about things I want to do but have maybe been too nervous to pull the trigger on. I’ve done plenty of solo traveling in the US. And plenty of solo exploring in foreign cities. I’ve lived in countries where I spoke the language.
But to book a month long trip to a country where I don’t speak the language, and accepting a zero in my business for an entire month was something that would be a little scary for me. Could I pull it off? Would I have that same sense of panic if there weren’t that security waiting for me? So with that memory of Paris in my mind & my coach’s question in my ear, I booked a trip for a monthlong solo stay in France.
I asked friends for suggestions on where to go outside of Paris. I studied French for months on Duolingo. And I planned for September in my business to try to make up for August. I prepared myself as best I could.
This time, when I walked off the plane at CDG, there was no panic, no anxiety, no fear. Just excitement. Comfort. Peace. I feel at home here in Paris. It’s not all that different from New York in a way… with tables and chairs outside nearly every restaurant, the endless array of tourists, and a million little streets to wander down at leisure; Fruit stands and flower shops and cafes on every corner.
I did a thing that scared me. And it wasn’t scary at all.
Letters From My Father; Lessons From My Mother 