Staying when we want to run

Hello you

I paused to film the big wheel turning between two streets off Rue Saint-Honoré when a feather of clarity landed.

Oh, I can’t be her anymore.

Life keeps turning and if I want to grow I will have to surrender to its motion.

Walking home, slowly as the light turned to gold, I pondered Brianna Wiest’s preface, ‘your new life is going to cost you your old one.’

These beautiful words hold different meanings for all of us, but for me, I read… the Jessica I was in Paris cannot exist if I’m going to become the Jessica I know I’m destined to be. But I’ve read these words before and I’ve been through transformations before. Here’s my learning. It is a great mistake to try to compartmentalise, shame or try to erase that old version of ourselves. She is vulnerable, often weak and needs our love. No man is to be left behind. We move forwards as one together, in love.

When I first moved to Paris I’d go on what I humorously labelled, mental midnight walks. To find the funny side lightened the reality of what was really happening. My body was trying to process trauma. They felt electric, so full of adrenaline I mistook them for freedom, excitement and aliveness. The city glowed and her noises deafened. I’d listen to house music while I walked. And I’d smoke. Woven into them was stimulation that resembled the painful but familiar in a setting that promised hope. There was a twisted authenticity in them, whereby I let myself go. Boundary-less I bolted.

They were always triggered by a feeling I didn’t want to sit with. It could be anything from a memory flashback to waiting what felt like too long for a reply. Only when my feet were too exhausted to take me further would I return home.

Gradually, though I’m referring to years, my midnight walks melted into afternoon strolls. More palatable they appeared as an improvement, but still served the same purpose. Paris is a wonderful place for a dreamer to distract herself and call it productivity. Alongside movement, and the two fit very well hand in hand, my favourite way to numb and escape is to curate. And I’m very good at it. Why live in the real world when its so painful? Far more alluring to escape into a symphony of fantasy. The problem, is what a lonely place this wonderland can be, and how fragile when it is built on the clouds of dreams.