If you don’t know, French children don’t have school on Wednesday (also today was a holiday). This means that au pairs work all day. I work from 10-19:30, although I’m only paid until 18:00 :(
I didn’t get anything done for me today, but I did my job, I cried 3 times, I made veal for lunch and lentils and sausage for dinner. I helped the 7 year old with all his homework, and played tennis in the park with the kids for an hour and a half.
I’m trying, so hard, to be a good au pair. The language barrier is hard, and these kids act like they’ve never heard the word “no” before.
Today was hard, but it’s done. Send good vibes if you can spare them ♥️
I miss you. I haven’t felt that way in a while. It was easy to pretend that I didn’t need you, that I never loved you in the first place. But the longer I’m away, the more my body falls back into you. I’m dancing without being aware. A song comes on and I begin to move in a familiar way, and as soon as I ease into the rhythm and motion, I’m overcome with emotion. Wow. I missed this.
To miss something that has caused you so much distress is… unexpected. But instead of remembering packed audition rooms, character shoes, and anxiety, I remember how it feels to get carried away in the music. I remember the heightened feelings, and letting go of insecurity when I really felt the story of a piece. I remembered the strength and structure of barre, and how good it feels to be precise. Maybe I won’t be a musical theatre dancer, but that doesn’t mean I can’t love you. And it doesn’t mean I won’t let you love me.
Here’s to a new era of exploration--finding what we are together. I can’t wait to discover how you fit into other areas of my creativity, and how I can find freedom within you. This time it will not be about being “right” or about being an image in someone else’s head. This will be organic, from the dirt we’ll build this new relationship. And it will be full of strength, fluidity, and expression.
I love you. I love how you look. I love how you make me feel. I love that you’re older than I can imagine and always willing to change. I love that you bring some of the past with you. And I love you for not giving up on me. You reside within me, and you were patient when I tried to ignore you. I have not always been happy with you, thank you for extending kindness to me. And thank you for always finding me when I need you the most.
I wrote today. I finished an hour of my French course. I cooked two meals, and bought groceries, and walked through town. I called my sister. I danced! Oh god, I danced. I’ve missed ballet so much and I’m so glad to have some space in my suite to practice.
This is a challenge I’ve given myself for no reason other than that I want to be writing more and maybe this will spark something else. It’s so funny, so many people call themselves writers, but have this insatiable desire to do anything aside from write. I’d rather make a new google drive folder for these letters than I would actually like to write one.
Today is a letter to you. You, dear reader, who certainly doesn’t exist yet. That’s a bit freeing. No one will read this first letter. Likely no one will read any of them, but this first one especially. The first letter will go down in history, to myself, as the one with way too many commas and no real goal. It’s a letter wherein I will begin to discover what this project could be, what these letters could mean. Will they be apologies? Will they even be true? Will I write fictional letters to fictional people? Or real letters to fictional people? I do think the fanfiction part of my life is over (no shade, it’s just not for me), so we’ll see where this leads.
I think I can write. I’m literate, for sure. But I do think I have important things to say and I think I can say them well--please disregard this letter from that statement. But I can, I can write things that mean something and that people want to read.
Maybe I will write a jar of prompts, and I’ll have to write a letter to the person listed on that prompt, or maybe the jar will be full of phrases or images. I’m now establishing this as a freewriting exercise which hadn’t been the intent, but isn’t an awful idea either. God, how long do these letters have to be. I think a page. I think a page is fine. Too much for someone to want to read, but enough to make me feel like I’ve done something.
Right. Back to you. Dear reader, thank you for engaging with this nonsense (it’s better for my sanity if I believe someone is really on the other end). I believe that something will come out of this. I believe I will at some point say something that will mean something to you. I hope I don’t give up before that point.
Here’s what you need to know about me: I’m 24; I’m living in a foreign country where I barely speak the language; I’m bored and fairly lonely; the only person I’ve ever told I love them cheated on me for our entire relationship. This last bit seems more important than it is from its placement and its severity, but it’s true.
So that’s it. This is day one of thirty and I think it’s only up from here. It certainly can’t go down, eh?
Today was fine. Just fine. I took a walk for an hour and a half and stopped in the park near my house to journal. I didn’t get so much done this morning, but this afternoon I did sort out my banking and I’m currently taking a break procrastinating on my French course.
It can be really hard here. Lonely, tiring, and I haven’t really relaxed yet, I’m still a stranger in someone else’s home. Plus the dad is still mad at the kids for not speaking enough German. Of course they don’t want to speak German at dinner, it’s rude because I don’t understand. It’s all very awkward.
It doesn’t help that I’m still pretty homesick. I just have to remember that lockdown won’t last forever and I will be able to go hiking at some point. I have to.
stormborns
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