Thoughts on returning home, or home?

Thoughts on returning home, or home?

I have been back for over a week now from my trip to Paris. One of the prices I pay for traveling is the level of headaches and fatigue I deal with on my return, boo hoo, right? But through the fog of jet lag and migraines is the awareness of my resistance to being home. Home is where the heart is, we say and write, wanting to believe it. But my heart sits in a damaged place so returning here just feels like returning. I am just back here after being there.

I realized on the return flight just how much denial I was living in. I was saying I was fine about a few subjects that when brought to light had the stink of rot all over them, fine my ass. As soon as I am on the ground my sense of responsibility lights up like a christmas tree and my resentment right alone with it. All of the sudden I am not in charge of my life, it is happening to me. I have to take care of them. I have to tend to them.

My son shows up and I can see that he is off, is he taking his medicine? My grandson is so needy I can hardly get a breath. He spends the first 3 days I get back with me and has to be tolerant of my jet lagged ass, preferring that to anything else going on. I knew something was up. I was only gone 2 weeks.

I made a sacrifice when I decided to come back here to live and help my son and more importantly my grandson. It is a sacrifice that must be like a promise and like promises I make I try to keep. I broke off with my family in order to put aside and finally the constant negativity that is how we relate to each other. So I deal with this unaided by family support. My life is hard enough dealing with a bipolar son who is constantly mad at the world to having to constantly explain how what I am doing is not enabling it is keeping a household together until my grandson can fend for himself. I think of how my life might have been different had anyone taken notice of my struggle.

Right now my son is mad and out there, and he did not come over as usual this morning, all the signs I need to know just how bad this next few days and weeks could get and my grandson is to start school soon. Fuck me, excuse my french.

While I was away in the fantasy world of Paris I began thinking again of relocating. I try so hard to imagine a land where more people spoke my language and understood my sensibility. I sometimes just want to live where I just like it better. I want to be somewhere I enjoy being. All the same bull shit sentences I heard my mother say. She was eternally dissatisfied with her now short life. I don’t want to be that. I made a promise to be here. Maybe all I want is some peace.

It takes so much out of me my only hope is getting on a plane and leaving for a while but it only can be for a while because I made a promise to call this home, for a while.

I just don’t get other travelers

I just don’t get other travelers

It has been raining today so it has been a slow moving day in Paris. I took the train to the Champs-Elysees area to watch a movie. So did hundreds of others, of course. There are shops there as well, high end shops, you know, the usual suspects for the display of riches, Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Dior, Tiffany’s, blah blah blah, all of them. A great way for a girl to feel underdressed even just for a movie.

I choose to sit in a cafe to avoid rain after my movie, oh no here they come, the rich. Silence, bow your head, do not look them in the eye…I of course can’t keep my mouth shut and speaking with my server and the manager we remark about the rudeness of these humans, they will take a chair from table without asking, they will move in front of you like they don’t see you. They are seemingly unaware of the rest of us, us mere mortals.

Then they opened their mouths.

I just don’t get it. I don’t get the notion that a human that is serving you your food or drink needs to be treated like they are dust under your table. I don’t get where the server, male or female, is there just for you needs, and needs to be flagged down with a whistle or a ‘hey’. Really, did you just walk out of a cave? Were you born yesterday? Are you really so ignorant that you don’t know that’s a human you’re talking to? Oh let me guess its raining and your pissed. Wait, is it because you have money?

Not today, today in my neck of the woods, or restaurant, we learned some manners and that the man was a server, not a servant, as if the woman had not heard of such thing.

Now this is a cafe, not the Ritz, we are all allowed in cafes, not so much the Ritz. It’s the great equalizer in France, cafes, because everybody’s money works in a cafe. What was irritating was watching when the women walked in dripping jewels and the men accompanying her through the door, they were greeted, they ignored that, they were asked if they wanted to be seated, they ignored that. They frankly, did and sat where ever the hell they wanted, as if none of us mattered including the actual place they were being seated. How interesting to be “so” in your own space, I mean mine, they were right there next to me.

So note to self and all other foreign travelers, yes they were foreigners to this land, quit being such a pompous ass when visiting another country. Always remember that the server you are treating like shit will be holding your food at some point, also the person you are treating like shit is a mother father sister brother of someone, not a plastic doll put on the earth for your amusement. And most of all remember there by the Grace of God go I and you. Past that can’t we all just get along and drink some good wine together.