Let's meet!

I’ve always loved writing and decided to do it more regularly and out in the open. I plan to use this as a diary. And anyway, what are the odds people will find me in the vastness of the Internet? Especially since I didn’t follow the two cardinal rules you have to follow when you start on Substack:

1.     Bring in your already existing followers. Except that my followers follow me for work reasons, and I don’t want to write solely about work in here. So I’m starting with no built-in followers. And I might stay with no followers – that’s a risk I’m willing to take. Freedom always has price 😉

2.     Define a niche and stick to it. Which doesn’t really work when you want to write about different aspects of your life. From my love of art (especially photography) to my frustration with French people (I’m French so I can say bad things about the French, you can’t, those are the rules), from the emotional roller coaster that aging is (either my parents’ or my own), to fashion and entrepreneurship, there are a lot of things I want to talk about. I can only hope that what interests me intersects with what interests you.

In truth, I write because I enjoy it and find it therapeutic. I’ve been journaling on and off since I was a kid. I would stop for months or even years at times, until I grabbed whatever random notebook I found and started writing again. Since I have zero self-discipline and love nothing more than procrastinating, I figured that if I started on Substack, I would feel more compelled to write regularly. I’m aiming for once a week… Let’s see what happens!  

FRENCH VS. ENGLISH

Although French, I write in English. After 25+ years in New York, I find it easier. English is such a more efficient language! If you don’t believe me, write something in English, translate it to French and compare the number of words used to say the same thing… I rest my case.

Using English also acts as a buffer and offers me a distance that I find very freeing. I’m not sure I would be as open if I wrote in French – the weight of the words and their meaning would paralyze me. Have you noticed it’s easier to swear in a foreign language than in your own? Same principle is at work here.

SHORT BIO

54, married, no kids (by choice and with no regret, in case you wonder), with “ZEE” best dog in the world (I’m sure your dog is great too… because dogs are the best, period!).

Born and raised in Paris, France. Went to NYC for a one-year internship in an ad agency. Managed to stay and eventually built a life there. Came back to France a couple of years ago and now dealing with culture shock and having to start all over again from semi-scratch.

LONGER VERSION

To say I fought insecurity my whole life would be accurate. Because I was afraid of what people would think, I didn’t allow myself a lot of things. Rare is the woman who doesn’t buckle under the weight of her insecurity. It’s as if that feeling of never being enough is part of our DNA [it’s not, we just live in a society that makes us feel that way].

Beside this all-too-common insecurity, I also had to content with the trauma of having been run over by a drunk driver when I was 12. [I never wished ill on someone, even people who deserved it, except for this guy. Please people, don’t drink & drive, that’s all I have to say.]

As I was later told by one of the many shrinks I worked with, that accident couldn’t have happened at a worse time. If you have an accident as a kid, you adapt as you have little to no frame of reference. Being in a hospital for a year becomes another new thing to get through. When you’re an adult, you have developed a sense of self, so an unexpected event shouldn’t completely derail you. You have a life, projects, responsibilities and, with luck, people who love you and who will help you get back on your feet (literally or not). But going through a traumatic event when you’re at the edge of adolescence, when you’re about to define yourself, can be damaging beyond rationale. *

I came to understand this stupid accident was the defining moment of my life, for good or bad. How could I ever trust the universe when my life had been so violently turned upside down? The experience robbed me of any sense of security, but it also taught me empathy (spending months in a hospital with kids who are worse off than you will do that, I guess!). And although it stopped me from doing many things, I still found the gumption to move to NYC and create a life there. I built a business in a crazy competitive market even though I’m very much an introvert. I lived in a very expensive city and was able to make ends meet (although with some difficulties, truth be told). My accident both defined me and didn’t.

It has been a long road, but I’m here… and I’ve learned to make a great lemonade along the way! OK, I got my origin story out of the way. Phew! Onward to lighter stuff! (or not)

See you next time!

*I’m in no way minimizing other people’s trauma. I’m relaying, perhaps clumsily, how events can affect different people at different points in their life. But I also know firsthand how unpredictable individual reactions are.