To the Past

Image by Henri, 2.5, Versailles, FR / Kodak200

The amount of times I have wanted to log on and write these last 5 months has been…a lot. Lots of excuses, lots of valid reasons, lots of regret for allowing my thoughts to overrun my head. I almost feel like a different person since my last entry. But I also still see the beauty in this daydream and the desire to keep the embers burning. This journal originally started as a way for me to share the information, fears, and hopes I had for living a life in France; I would like for it to continue to hold that space, but I also want it to grow into a way for me to simply be human. To write when I have fears about life, when I have clarity from motherhood, when I have inspiration from creating - I want to write about my life here in the present and its future. But first, a look at the past.

Soooo, what have I been doing for the last 5 months? Not much, and yet so much. I have been living in my thoughts, in my fears, in my doubts for quite some time. It’s been exhausting. However, my intentions for this new year are to come back to myself - my true self. A confident, joyful, vivacious person who is proud of her accomplishments, her failures, her ideas and creations, and her daydreams. I am ready to come back to this reverie.

One accomplishment and failure from 2024 is we lived in Versailles for a month. We officially did it. And wow - it was everything. It was memorable, exciting, terrifying, nerve-wracking, joyful, frustrating, stressful, and exhilarating. Would I do it again? No, not for a couple of years, but I have no regrets. To be honest, plucking my 2.5-year-old up and removing him from his environment, routine, and friends was an unexpected hurdle. I knew it would be hard, but it was downright miserable at times. However, when we walked back into our home after 12+ hours of travel, I was overcome with pride for the warm and loving home I had created for us here in Seattle. I watched my son settle, find his books, and eventually eat a full meal (which he hadn’t done in weeks). I will write a post about our trip. It was too important and memorable not to.

I had a hard year with trust. Trusting myself, trusting others, trusting time…but I’ve learned to forgive. Forgiving myself mostly which led to me forgiving others and forgiving time. 2024 was a trying year filled with the most amazing memories. It’s funny how life balances itself out in the most beautiful ways. I have so much to be thankful for, so much to learn from, so much to hold onto, and so much to say goodbye to.

I’m truly excited for the new year and what I hope to bring to it. My intentions for 2025 are enlightenment, alignment, clarity, and purpose.

An Inquiry

It’s happening. I’m hitting send on an inquiry to view a chateau. This feels huge and easy and scary and silly and ridiculous all at the same time. I’ve been following this chateau since April 2021 - and it’s STILL available, which feels incredibly strange. We will be in the vicinity of it later this year and I feel like not asking to view it would be such a missed opportunity.

I want to be very clear - in no way am I expecting this to be “the chateau”. We haven’t even viewed ONE. This feels like the first step - a lantern that is lighting the way. Seeing this chateau (if we even get to) feels like it will be the confirmation if this is the life we actually see ourselves living. And maybe that is why I’m a little fearful, a little hesitant about inquiring. What if we view the chateau and its so far from anything I’ve imagined? If it is overwhelming? If it is underwhelming? If the idea that I have been consumed by for the last 6 years is simply…not what I’ve built it up to be?

A Corner of the Internet

Inspiration is abundant but sometimes gets covered up in the algorithm of life and social media. What once started as a space to post overly filtered images of our feet and coffee has become a barrage of sponsored posts by complete strangers who are paid by large companies to push product. I’m all here for change but I don’t know if I see any of my IRL friends’ posts anymor. Can confirm, I just spent the last 35 min consuming content that added nothing to my day and now I’m annoyed with myself and these apps all over again. Am I the only one who spends more time than they want to on social media, then swear I am going to delete the app and get off my phone, just to find myself scrolling again? We talk about how millenials are the last generation to know the feeling of not growing up with a cell phone - the last generation of spending summers outside, not coming home until the street lights turn on, and having to have phone numbers memorized. I just wish I got to experience that freedom as an adult - especially as a parent.

But social media isn’t all bad. Throughout the years I have found so much beauty and wonder. I was able to follow a little chateau and learn about the opportunity to stay and experience life working to restore grandness that slowly had deteriorated over time. This account led me to find a photographer who has filled my world and feed with beauty, light, and words that helped me through the pandemic when the world felt dark & sad. Jamie Beck’s work now fills my home - her books, stationery, images, journals, and even phone cases are pockets of light throughout my space. Although I do not know Jamie, I have been invested in her success, in her journey. She followed her heart to France with what started as a one-year commitment but has now turned into her new life. Its incredibly inspiring.

I have recently felt bogged down with the realness of life - don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love my life. It’s full - I feel the ups and downs and the chaos and the quiet. I count myself fortunate to have the privilege, space, and health to explore and experience it all. But I love a good escape. I love community. I love beauty. So when Jamie shared that she was creating a community for just that, I knew I needed to be a part of it. Fast forward a few excruciatingly slow months (good things take time), and I can confidently say I have found my people. The Starling Club is a spark of energy, creativity, humor, and camaraderie that I am only just beginning to explore. Conversations range from parenting to the french language, beauty secrets to a book club and so much more. And this is just where the community hangs out - Jamie has created a beautiful space in the club where she shares recipes, tutorials, essays and so much more. Its truly a place to escape to and feel immersed in the beauty of France.

I hate it here

This phrase has so many meanings - and not one has to do with where I am physically. Actually - quite the opposite.

This is the mental game I struggle with SO MUCH regarding this reverie. Questioning absolutely everything - WHY is this my dream? Why does it feel like my desire to move to France is waning? Why are there zero chateaux catching my eye lately? Why do I want to move into a home that is double the size of the one we are currently in when I feel like I’m already drowning here? Why do I want to move away from everyone and everything I know when I am currently craving closeness and friendship?

I know it’s a cycle. I’m in the phase of pulling away, of denial that I quickly wrote about before. This feels like a space I live in a lot these days. Even though I know I will loop back around, a part of me wonders if this is the end of this dream. I sincerely hope it isn’t.

I simply hate being in this mindset. I hate that every post feels like a deeply personal journal entry of my inner fears. Where is the fun, excitement, and joy that most people have for their dreams? JFC, this is depressing.

We are going to create a vision board for a special spot in our new home and Goo has requested it be filled with Chateaux. My heart exploded - I love him so much for wanting this dream just as much as I do. But this has also led me down a rabbit hole of doubt and perfection (ha). Pick a photo, K. Just one. That’s all you need to get started. Overcome this inertia and fear and perfection.

I like this one. It reminds me so much of what I want and yet leaves so much open to possibilities.

Peeling plaster entryway at Chateau de Gudanes.

To feel closer

After a long week (and it’s not even Friday yet), I grabbed a bottle of wine while out on a “baby bedtime outing” (when my other half takes over bath and bedtime duties). I was driving home tonight thinking about a glass of wine - my son will be turning two in a week and we are going through allllllllll the toddler growing pains - and thought “I’ll have a glass of wine and…write a post!” I don’t necessarily have anything to share, but I wanted to connect to feel closer to my dreams - something that is all mine <maybe the toddlerhood is rubbing off on me too>.

Life has been a little chaotic lately. I began this post on Feb 29th and it is now March 24th and I am only now finding the time to sit down and gather my thoughts. I don’t live a life that is fast-paced or filled to the brim with endless amounts of things to do (more on this in a future post). But what I do have is the incredible ability to numb out; to sit in front of a TV when I am feeling overwhelmed and to zone out for HOURS. Is this the healthiest of coping strategies - maybe not. Maybe this goes hand-in-hand with inertia? If I spent more time doing enjoyable and light “work” perhaps I wouldn’t get into the depths of my inertia. :food for thought:

We are currently going through some life changes - see next or last post, I don’t know which one. We are in the middle of an unexpected move. And in this chaos-filled time, when our home feels as though it is being ripped out from underneath us, I can feel myself grasping for France. All I want is to feel closer to my reverie. I can feel myself stretching, reaching, searching for all fragments that will help me to feel closer to it. I’m terrified this is the first step (or fifth step) in it falling behind. Falling behind of what? The arbitrary schedule I have in my head; I always wanted to be in France by the time my son was 5. I haven’t shared this with anyone (sorry, Goo) but it’s been a marker that I’ve unintentionally set.

But right now, I need to remind myself that this bump in our timeline doesn’t mean the daydream is leaving me (callback to Big Magic yet again). I have nourished these plans, ideas, and dreams for too long to let them go. I simply have other priorities - important, time-sensitive priorities that desperately need my time, attention, and energy. France isn’t going anywhere.

A Feeling of Home

French maison in Chablis countryside, July 2019, Fuji 400h

Our current house has been tricky for me. I have never felt fully settled in it. The last two years have felt disjointed. I haven’t been comfortable. There has been an underlying hum that has quietly but persistently been present - and not in an enjoyable, energizing way. As someone who truly finds the most comfort in her home, and who thinks about it constantly, the last two years have been difficult. I look back to when we brought our son home and I feel chaos but not from the 7.5lb little prince we were now forever bound to. We were still so unsettled in the house. Granted, we had moved in 8 weeks prior; our belongings were in piles, the feng shui in disarray. When I look back on photos of that time, all I see is that dishevelment. Not the new parent uncertainty, not the exhaustion - I see the clutter & chaos. The clutter was never dealt with - it was shoved, moved, sorted, and yet, continued to take up physical and mental space. Although I fully believe it takes at least a year to understand your home - to experience the flow, nuances, and quirks; understand its spirit and how it will help you live your most cozy life - this house has never given me those answers. I’ve been so confused and, honestly, rather annoyed with this house.

So when we received notice that the property owner was selling the house that I have put all of my mental energy into over the last 2 years, I was understandably shocked and rather pissed. What a waste. A waste of time, energy, and money. I have a small amount of sadness; this is where our son was brought home, where he took his first steps, ate his first food, and where he, his father and I grew up. Through all of the chaos and uncertainty that has surrounded us for the last 3 weeks, I have put together that I tend to daydream about the concept of “Home” quite a bit. Obviously, my literal daydream is the château; but I find myself daydreaming about our new home. I am currently trying to work out how our convenient playroom (which is connected to our living room) will be different in the new house. In a house that we haven’t been fully approved for (yet), I’m thinking of where to hang artwork, where to place treasures, how the light will shine through the windows, and how we will finally be able to have window treatments that are not bland and cold.

We will still be renting - an adventure I am ready to end, but the timing is not quite right. Ahh timing. How you are at times such a blessing and comfort, and at others, my biggest fear and nemesis. There is a pervasive thought that because we are being uprooted at no choice of our own, this will undoubtedly extend our time until we own a home and eventually move to France. Is there a direct correlation? I don’t think so. But in my mind, they are intrinsically linked. And perhaps that is what the quiet, dull sadness is feeding off of. The new beginning excitedness is there but not strong. I feel apprehensive even though it feels impossible for a house to be less suited to us than the one we are currently in. It’s almost as if I would take the chaos, confusion, and unsettledness here a little bit longer if I knew it meant that my reverie was still comfortably sitting in the not-so-distant future.

Progress over Perfection

My inertia has been debilitating lately. Maybe it’s the depth of winter that we are in - knowing we still have about 2 to 3 months of gray and rain here - my mind and body still wanting to hibernate. Maybe it’s the intrusive thoughts of “why even try?”. You’re a renter - this home is temporary, you’ll have to fix things when you leave, you can’t do exactly what you want, etc. Maybe it’s trying to juggle my days between caring for my son full-time, life, and rest. Maybe it’s my perfectionism…

I laughed when my husband mentioned my perfectionism in a “discussion” one day. He wanted me to get up, stop being a vegetable, and work towards my goals - or at least do something that would make me smile. When he said perfectionism, I scoffed. I am *not* a perfectionist (instant headache from the eye-roll that accompanied the scoff). And then I marinated over what he said. And it didn’t feel good. It felt raw. It’s weird how being presented with the truth can be so jarring. I’ve never considered myself a perfectionist, but I can confidently say I am. Looking around me, I don’t see perfection - quite far from it. But what I see is incompleteness. I see a list of want-to-do’s. I see fear. I am so scared of my projects not being perfect that I simply don’t start them. Where did this come from? That is a discussion for my therapist and I.

I have been sitting on some thrifted picture frames for years now. Back in 2019, I had a goal of putting up a gallery wall in our rental in San Francisco. I purchased a gorgeous picture rail, took photos of all the artwork, measured each piece, used photoshop to create a mock-up of the placement of frames with accompanying art…and I never put one screw into the wall. The artwork sat in our dining room for months. I remember having a conversation with my therapist and him saying, “this sounds like death by a thousand cuts”. No truer words had been spoken. I looked at that artwork every single day, multiple times a day, and every time I did, I winced. Just put it up. You’ve done the hard part. Just put the damn rail up. The rail, chains, and artwork were packed up and moved to our new home in 2022 where they sit in a closet.

But today, at 3pm with an airpod in one ear and my son toddling around, I went and dug through our closet. I pulled out frames, photos, artwork, and more frames and smiled. My art choices have changed and along with it, my inertia. There are 4 frames on a wall. 4. Each nail went into the wall no less than 3 times. It’s not perfect by any means, but it’s progress.

Phases of Reverie

I wonder if I could categorize the phases of daydreaming…

Grand Canal at Versailles Palace, December 2021 Shot on 35mm (either Fuji 400 or Portra 400)

Lovestruck: the phase of daydreaming in which you let yourself be fully immersed. You clip the magazine snippets, pin every possible related Pinterest image, read articles & books, share your love with others openly and almost annoyingly. You are excited when these thoughts find their way to you and welcome getting lost in the daydream.

Eager: a beautiful pairing with lovestruck. You find yourself digging deeper, becoming more knowledgeable, and perhaps even taking steps toward making your daydream a reality. You may sign up for a class, connect with others living the life, and develop a new aspect of your being. It’s like falling in love, you want to know everything about them and see them every day.

Embarrassment: perhaps the eagerness stage has become a little consuming; you and your friends notice you actively daydreaming…and not in a cute way. When friends ask you about your passion, you get a little self-conscious about the amount of information you know and constantly ask yourself, “were they just being polite, and now I’ve taken them down a rabbit hole?” “Was pulling out my phone to show them xxx just too much?” “Is this all my friends see me as now?”

Denial: When anyone asks you about your passion, you scoff it off and mention how silly it is. There is a lot of eye rolling, hand flapping, and literal scoffing noises. You pull back from any and all resources that gave you that buttlerfly feeling in the lovestruck phase. You attempt to meander on with life in the here and now. Perhaps, you start a blog to write down the turbulent feelings inside so they can simply live outside of your head.

Wonder: Your eye catches something that reminds you of your daydream - an article, a photo, an object - and you feel a tingle in your hand. You think about how lovely it was to get lost in reverie and wonder if there is anything new out there in the world you have left behind.

And so the cycle continues…

*this journal entry was written in less than an hour and is not to be taken seriously. ;)

Inertia

One of my biggest pitfalls is a pesky little physics term called inertia. I am happy as a clam continuing to move along in a state of uniformity. Truly the hardest part of anything for me is simply getting started - well that and being riddled with indecision. This has been a worry of mine for some time; I’m not sure if worry is the right term…more like an evil that I know is inside me. Whew…that is a little too intense but hopefully, it got the sentiment across. When I think about our château life and the Passion vs Purpose entry, the realization that the work is what will be the driving force behind this life makes me shudder. What if I don’t have the discipline to be a chatelaine? What if the learning curve is too steep? What if we fail miserably and our home is in a worse state than when we took it on?

I wrote in one of my many notebooks back on June 3, 2021, about how I wanted to think of things in my everyday life that I could do here and now to prepare for our château life. I want to work on the skills that will help me build the muscles to overcome inertia. I want to begin to do the work here so that when we MUST do it in France, that muscle is ready and aching to be put to work.

One of my favorite hobbies that I plan to be a huge source of creativity as well as be helpful in France is my love of upholstery and restoration. I am by no means an expert; novice is a title I wear very proudly, but I have the drive to learn. I find that I am not as scared about simply trying new techniques when it comes to upholstery - perhaps the ability to undo basically everything in upholstery is why the decisions aren’t so daunting. And really, everything I do in upholstery gets undone at least once. Again, I’m simply a novice. My newest exploration is cane webbing. I’m starting easy and will replace the seats in a couple of factory chairs. Then I will move onto a set of chairs I have been stripping for some time now and will replace the fabric with cane. This will be a big learning curve but I am so excited for it (if only these chairs weren’t the most difficult chairs to strip). I’m so excited to share more of what I’m doing today to help prepare for this reverie. That sentence doesn’t make a lot of sense…preparing for a daydream - but that is exactly what I am doing.

My Dreams Aren’t Rare

A small nod to the ever-amazing, Taylor Alison Swift. ;)

This sentiment struck me earlier this week when I excitedly opened “Château Reawakening” by Tim Holding of Château de Purnon. Words that Tim wrote echoed feelings I have already shared in the first posts of this journal. Fear, wonder, daydreaming…Tim talks about his spreadsheet of châteaux and I giggle as I look up at mine with its permanent tab on my browser. He questions if they have experience (none) and skills (few), do they have the money, and states that he continuously acknowledges the absurdity of it all. He states, “…you must be a little crazy. Buying and restoring a crumbling French château makes absolutely no financial sense.” All of this is on page 2. Page 2. I have never connected with another person’s writing as much as I have to this. I had to grapple with the idea of underlining phrases. Phrases that echoed my own and phrases that I have yet to share but have felt so deeply. Maybe I will. Wouldn’t it be fairytale-like to pull this book out of our library one day and look back at the fear I held onto so tightly?

A part of reading these words that I have felt so deeply is comforting - knowing that others have been in the same period I am currently in; aimlessly dreaming of a life that feels absurd to talk about out loud. Almost feeling intoxicated by the constant daydream. And yet, Tim & Felicity have been able to turn that reverie into their reality. It gives me a profound sense of hope. Others have done it - surely it isn’t that far out of reach.

And with that same sentiment, I am a little blue. This dream, my dream, isn’t rare. I’m not special for yearning to move in France, live in and restore a château. And I’m especially not rare for wondering if this dream will ever transpire for us. Most who dare to dream of becoming a chatelaine will probably never have the title. I just hope the library I pull this book from is in a foreign country in a home that is 150+ years old.

Sometimes the pessimist (I like to say realist) in me tends to win out. I see only the negatives, only the hurdles, only the defeats. The purpose of this journal was to share my dreams alongside my fears - and for that, I feel like I am doing a great job. Maybe too good.