(Written for MA)
Somewhere between the Louvre and the Eiffel tower, I found myself pondering life’s biggest questions. Will I ever find the one? What is the meaning of life? Where will I stop to buy another croissant? I found the latter far more pressing than the first two…..
When it comes to travelling, more millennials are choosing to go the distance. Not only experiencing new cultures and new sights but doing it in their own company.
I somehow felt that I was missing out.
For years, my anxiety kept me from booking any trip on my own. The thought of being in a foreign country, without anyone else, terrified me. It had even kept me from going on an Erasmus, something I still regret today.
That all changed when I decided to move to London, I was finally in a situation where I had no friends or family. I was out of my comfort zone.
I have been fortunate enough to travel to many places before, but never in my own company. Always with friends or family to rely on, but now it was up to myself to settle any anxiety.
Paris was an appealing destination, having not visited since the age of ten. I was desperate to see the museums and artwork that my parents never had the patience to bring me to.
The first few hours of travelling alone were the hardest. The fear started on the Eurostar, among the queues and passport control, I felt my breath become shorter, my heart beating hard beneath my flesh. It started to set in that I was on my own with no one to fall back on.
…….
Stepping out of the metro, dragging my wheelie bag up the stairs, I felt relaxed. I saw the Parisian architecture I had once dreamt about.
My heart palpitations slowed.
Looking up, I could see the bright blue skyline and beautiful architecture. The French balconies, with the smell of fresh pastries flowing through the streets. I remembered why I was here. I was in Paris, what could possibly go wrong?
To prepare for my anxiety that may arise during my 48 hours, I planned and strategized my trip to the best of my ability. But as many people know, this can be incredibly difficult to do.
My anxiety manifests itself through different forms. Panic attacks, when I can’t breathe and hyperventilate, and paranoia about what others think of me.
In the past, my therapist had also told me I had a tendency to catastrophise. Taking any situation, good or bad, and thinking up the worst possible outcome.
You can understand my reservations.
I was not entirely sure how I would deal with this on my own, especially in a foreign country. Usually, I’m in the comfort of my own home or with someone else when anything happens.
My French was rusty too. I had not uttered a word since the age of 19. If I was going to have an anxiety attack may be learning the phrase “I’m having an anxiety attack please help me!” would help? But did Parisians even talk about mental health openly?
After settling in the first night I tried to plan the next day. Planning was a good distraction. Without structure is when my anxiety is at its worse.
On Saturday I realised why French people are so slim. Apart from the metro, and deathly electric scooters, it seemed that walking was the best way to get around. Excluding museums, most buildings don’t have elevators, great for your glutes and working off all the croissants and pastries.
Strolling through the Parisian streets, early in the morning, distracted me from any bad vibes I previously had. There were few people and any signs of clouds had been swept away. The sun appeared above and between the historical architecture, leading me towards the Louvre.
But I felt an overwhelming sense of hunger I couldn’t ignore. Annoyingly, I am one of those people that can never skip a meal. If I do it often results in a hangry state that I always try and avoid.
I knew that my hunger was inevitable, but I wanted to avoid the awkward interaction of ordering food, especially with my poor French-speaking abilities.
As I mentioned, I had not spoken a word of French in several years. But somehow I memorised the phrases ‘without dairy’ and ‘almond milk’. Bloody vegans. Luckily enough the French waitress recognised my bad accent and replied to me in English. I had avoided any more butchering of the French language.
As I sat on my own in the boulangerie I realised it wasn’t much different to being alone in London, or in Dublin, or being in an airport on your own. Why was I so afraid of what others would think. Why was the concept of sitting alone so fear-inducing?
Eventually reaching the Louvre, I spent the rest of the morning exploring and roaming through the museum.
I probably won’t be the first to tell you that the Mona Lisa is not that spectacular. It’s incredibly hard to see amongst all the selfie sticks flying up in the air. I had to push my way to the front and contain my disbelief as I watched other tourists taking selfies with the beloved portrait.
Don’t go just for the Mona Lisa, it’s not worth all the walking. There are some amazing French paintings such as Liberty Leading the People and many Greek and Roman sculptures. It would take you hours to see everything and I was only there for two.
I thought about putting my earphones in to discourage any paranoia as music usually settles me. But I wanted to be present, to use all my senses, and experience and appreciate the artwork I had spent so many years studying and seeing through others.
To my surprise, being in the museums was when I felt most at ease. The Louvre and the Musée D’orsey were both filled with the artwork I had studied and spent many years viewing through textbooks and art history lessons in school.
To see it, right in front of me, was an experience I never knew needed to be felt.
On Sunday, I took my beret and, on the recommendation of friends, walked through the streets of Le Marais. This was paradise. I had woken up that morning slightly exhausted after sightseeing from the previous day. Sometimes when I’m tired my anxiety can worsen, but I copied my previous routine of walking and planning. I was too distracted by my camera, trying my best to capture the life of Parisians on a Sunday.
Sitting in the Place des Vosges, listening to the distant sound of buskers and Parisians conversing, I was finally at peace with my inner thoughts.
When it comes to anxiety, little can be done to control it. Peaceful moments, while hard to obtain, can be achieved. I don’t think I will ever stop being anxious, but never again will I let it stop me from achieving my dreams.
