Overcoming the fear bravery asks of us

Hello you,

Everything I wanted has arrived and I’m terrified. Again. On what planet does that make sense?

Until last week I was caught between two worlds. A heart beating in France and a head wandering around the UK. Moving between them has been less like the impressionist period artist existence I imagined and more like never feeling fully home. Life can be seen, but not touched. When I reach out to grasp, it slips away like a dream before I’ve had chance to breathe it.

At the beginning of this year I pinned a very specific image to my vision board. It’s so specific I needed the help of AI to create it. A Parisian cafe wasn’t enough you see. I wanted my camera on the table - my very favourite fujifilm X100vi, the same Japanese paper journal I write in and my morning cappuccino. It not only had look but also feel like my world.

After a little vision board mastery came the rehearsing and for thirty days through January I would close my eyes and visualise being in the car with my mum, the back seat full of books, my coffee machine and all the other odds and sods I’ve accumulated in the UK. I’d visualise my passport on the dashboard, complete with visa ready to pass through the window as we boarded the eurotunnel. I was moving. And in two weeks that exact vision will come true. On the exact day I’d planned. 1st of August 2026.

C’est magique.

So why am I so scared? Why am I not jumping for joy?

Because now I have to hold these dreams as reality, rooted in unshakeable foundations. And maybe they’re too heavy to carry. When I cross the threshold this time I’m not running away, trying something new or seeing how things go. The life in France I want has asked for commitment, risk and bravery I’ve struggled to conjure. My love for her is so great, I can’t not answer the call. The consequences present as excruciating. Something will go drastically wrong and I’ll wish I remained on safer ground. They made a mistake, and meant to let the girl who deserves this through the door - not me. When I look at photos and vlogs of myself in Paris whilst here in the UK, I think who’s she? I don’t recognise her.