Crossroads

As far as I know, Strasbourg means “Fortress at the Crossroads”—which if you ask me, makes a lot of sense. Look where it lies. The majority of Western Europe is within three hours (by train) of the city, which is historically the border between France and Germany (no matter who the city actually belonged to at any given point in history). So, I guess, in September 2010, it makes sense that I wound up there, as I was definitely at a crossroads in my own life.

Now, I don’t want this to be one of those "hokey, feel-good, I-left-the-US-to-go-find-myself" stories—though it kind of is. The find-myself part is true to an extent. That much has definitely been happening. Up until that point, I feel like I had always lived my life to please everyone else, despite being the stubborn, independent, refusing-to-follow-the-crowd type that I am.

I won’t bore you too much with the details of my life. Frankly, I’m kind of tired of rehashing it all the time. So the short story is this:

My mother died on April 4, 2000. I hate always bringing that up, but I have to, because the day she died was the day that changed everything. I never realized just what would happen at that time, but the older I got, the more problems I saw. My dad married women and used them, then threw them aside in the end. He strictly enforced a religious standard, and always had to have control over everyone and everything at all times. At 14 I tolerated it, but by about three weeks before my 24th birthday, I’d had enough, and called the police on him for how he treated his then wife.

My family was wrecked, my dad had all but lost his mind, I was thrown out of the house, and my younger brother officially started hating me. I had little money, and no permanent address. The only thing I had was a dream: spending a school year in France.

Okay—that’s a bit melodramatic. I had a set of awesome friends who helped me when and where they could, and a wonderful boyfriend who was there when I needed him. But as far as something to hang on to? I had been wanting to study abroad well... Since I was old enough to know what a university was. I started learning French in high school, and well you can guess the rest from there. So my goal became getting myself to France.

And I did. I landed in Strasbourg Entzheim Airport on September 14. What an emotional day that was. I spent the previous day (thanks six-hour time difference), when I actually left the US, crying-my-eyes-out as it tore me to shreds to leave my boyfriend behind. We’d just hit the five-year mark, and spent the summer living together, so this wasn’t just the shallow drama that occurs some of the time. I’d also walked away in the middle of legal proceedings I had filed against my father starting back in March over a credit card debt he racked up in my name then refused to pay as-per our agreement. I was unaware of where I was going, what I was doing, and oh-my-god was I jet lagged.

I got a taxi to my dorm, got registered, hauled my bags up the stairs, and voila—home for the next ten months. I was put off by having such a small room, at first, but by the time I finally got a shower and got settled in, I collapsed into bed, and slept... For a really long time.

And there it began.

For the first time, already, I was beginning to feel alive. I was growing, changing, morphing, becoming. I was a new creation; like a newborn baby with no name, no past, and an entirely open future. Who knew what lessons I would learn, what people I would meet, the food I would taste, the places I’d go, or the things I’d see. All the while, a plush little World of Warcraft wind-rider that my boyfriend gave me as a going away gift named Little Mari accompanied me along the way.

I can’t sit here and tell you it’s all been easy and all been a fairytale. It hasn’t. I’ve cried, complained, gotten lost, been soaked through and freezing, lonely, felt abandoned, and wondered what next. I’ve been betrayed, stabbed in the back, almost kidnapped (that was an interesting situation), ripped off, nearly scammed (you’d think I’d know a scam when I saw one, after dealing with a multi-level "marketing" company), ‘stranded’ at a train station in Germany, because my original train got cancelled (Never say the town name of ‘Appenweier’ to me... Unless you want an evil glare in return), survived on fast-food, almost starved, and had to ward off more of the opposite sex than I’d like to admit to (and some of these stories are pretty bad). I’ve spent hours crying, stressed, and worried. I was jet-lagged, and as soon as that lifted, I went through homesick-ness and cried almost every day for a month-and-a-half, for that to morph into culture shock and I was angry at everyone all the time for no reason. The first two-to-three months were tough. I went to classes, tried to take notes, and I couldn’t retain anything. It’s not saying the professors were bad, or the classes were horrible, but my brain hadn’t switched into French mode yet, which got even more frustrating because by the time I got to Strasbourg, I had been studying it for ten years. Communication shouldn’t have been a problem, but it was.

But was it worth it? It’s been worth every second of frustration, fear, worry and every last tear that I’ve cried.

I can’t put into words the wonder, joy and amazement I’ve experienced here. I love Strasbourg—dearly. It’s a wonderful, beautiful place with such a unique history. I can walk over the border to Germany, and then walk back. On a clear day, I can see the Black Forest from my room. I got to go to Stuttgart twice and see the singer of a band I’d been a fan for years, despite him never releasing any music in the US. I even got to meet him after one of the shows and got the band members' autographs. I’ve seen Les Vosges (a mountain range in Alsace) along the country side from a train window, and I’ve met wonderful people from all around the world whom I love dearly. I’ve learned about other cultures from these people, and I think my scope of the phrase “the world” has changed for the better. I learned who my real friends are, and I’ve reconnected with my family (another control tactic from my dad—limiting contact with family outside of just him). I’ve even met a family here that has treated me wonderfully, and they mean everything to me; they’ll be some of the hardest people to leave behind.

But through all of this, I’ve finally been able to break away from my past. There are still technicalities I need to take care of, but that aside, before I left the US, I felt bogged down. I know we all have our problems, so please don’t take this as me saying “well I had it worse” because I’m not saying that at all. What I am saying is, before I got away, I felt haunted, confused, and angry all the time. I still struggle against it, but had I stayed where I was, it would’ve eventually swallowed me whole. I felt a lot of anger and hurt, because I felt I had spent all this time working, and for what? For whom? Not for myself. I have the problems I have, and I felt as though there was no escape. Sure, it could’ve been a lot worse, and I’m grateful that it’s not as bad as it could’ve been—but no matter what I felt clueless, lacked confidence, and just wanted to hurt any and everyone I saw. I felt like no one understood; that no one knew what it meant to struggle to have the things you desired in life. If I wasn’t angry, I was jealous, and I dwelled on it. I felt like my father was still controlling me, though I haven’t seen or talked to him, court room appearances excluded, in over a year now. And things have happened here in Strasbourg that made me feel that way again, but, well... There are perks to having a foreign bank account! No, I’m kidding, but it did honestly help me protect myself while I’m here from any further damage. Long story there, so I hope you believe me on that one.

But back to my point. Going away like I have has helped me finally grow up. Even though I was 24 when I left, I felt like a child in a woman’s body. Oh sure— I have some goofy childish habits still (like my current obsession with Disney Princesses), but I got to finally be an adult. Through my dad’s manipulation and control, I never got to grow up completely. He always said he was “doing me a favor” or that he was “taking care of everything” for me, but I never felt that way. I wanted to grow and manage my own money, pay my own bills, make my own judgment calls, and learn how to fend for myself. France and Germany have done that for me. I’ve been regarded as an adult: be it just ordering my food at McDonald’s, or setting up my bank account, and I don’t feel strange about it anymore. Before, I would feel awkward. I knew I should be looked at and treated as such, but when you can’t get that treatment from your own father, it’s hard to believe you should be treated that way by anyone else.

The hard part now is, hoping all these lessons translate back to the US. I have to finish court orders against my dad, and try and clear my name, even if it takes some time. I’m not too sure where life back in the US is going to take me, but it doesn’t scare me as much as it did at first. I viewed coming here to Strasbourg as an adventure, for obvious reasons, and viewed coming home as a return to shackles and chains. But now, while it may be difficult at first, I view it as an adventure just as grand as being in France has been. France has prepared me for “the rest of my life,” whatever that may entail. And the idea of “the rest of my life” doesn’t scare me anymore. It’s no longer a sad, treacherous journey we’re all cursed to have to take; it seems like an adventure, with ups and downs, bumps in the roads followed by smooth sailing, and lessons always to be learned, no matter what is going on. Eventually one day I now know I’ll be fortunate enough to live a stable life, and chose my own way, instead of living a chaotic life lead by a tyrant who’s too afraid to admit to his fear of the world. It won’t always be easy, but it will be mine, and who could want for anything more?

So that’s my story of being in Strasbourg. Sorry it hasn’t been a play-by-play re-telling. I mean, I can appreciate Eat, Pray, Love and as cheesy as it got at some bits, I enjoyed “Under The Tuscan Sun,” but I didn’t feel like I needed to tell you every small event that’s happened. The important part is what I learned, and that I learned it. The rhyme and the reason... Well it’ll be different for you. You will have your own unique and beautiful journey ahead of you, and you should embrace it, boldly and with excitement, even when that’s hard to do. Let your experiences unfold as they will, and let them shape you into the person you’re meant to become. Don’t let anyone, not even your parents, determine who you are. Discover this life for yourself, and live it in the best way you know how—mistakes, disappointments, and all. In the end, this life is all any of us have, and we can only depend on ourselves to be the people we want to be.

I wish you the best of luck, no matter what you chose to do, or where you chose to go.