Reasons Why You'll Cry in France

You're moving abroad? Cool! (And also: a poem.)

1. You’ll cry setting up your gas and electricity. I’m sorry, but you just will. You’ll cry because it’s very confusing, and it turns out there are switches to flip and buttons to press, even after the technician comes or the company turns on the service, so you’ll spend a few days without heat or lights, thinking there’s a problem. There is no problem. But no one explained that to you. And they never will. You’ll cry on the phone to the woman who calls you from a mysterious “energy consultancy” explaining that you already pay for her service on your bill but you cannot comprehend what her service is, and she can’t explain it even though she speaks English, so you’ll cry and hang up on her (you have never hung up on a telemarketer.)

2. You’ll cry in shavasana at vinyasa yoga because you did a backbend at the end of the class and the teacher said, “See, this is the difference between American yoga and French yoga. In American yoga you do whatever you want. But in French yoga you do only what the instructor says, because there is a sequence.” And you’re here because all you wanted was to be in a space where, for a little while, you’d know every move and would not do anything wrong.

3. You’ll cry because the “pigeon ramier” (or “Palombe”) is really just so lovely and can be trained to eat from your hand and sometimes these birds feel like real friends.

4. Because you miss someone.

5. You’ll cry because it’s very confusing figuring out the taxes, I mean do you even need to pay taxes here?!, and if you do, how do you get a tax number, or a social security number to get the carte vitale for health care? (Because if you’re going to have to pay taxes you might as well get the good health care.) And then you’ll find a blog post that lays it all out for you (most of the the time, you’ll find a blog post where some American who came before you has laid it out) but still you have questions and you’ll cry because anyway it looks like a lot of work, maybe it’s easier to just go back.

6. You’ll cry because you will invite your beloveds, sometimes their kids too, to come visit you, to discover these places that you love, and you’ll plan the whole thing, but it will be difficult, the kids will complain, you will feel disappointed and frustrated with everyone but especially with yourself. You will feel that your only tools for dealing with kids are the ones you honed as a high school teacher and somehow those skills don’t translate to other people’s kids whose parents are present. When you’re leading a classroom you’re so cool! So fun! You’re having big conversations! Now you are only stressed and angry and crying.

7. You’ll cry because your friendships here feel heightened and somehow also fleeting, like they could escape from your grasp at any moment, and you love these women, you respect them for what they have done to land here, to make a life here, to learn the language. They are your heroines.

8. You’ll cry because you have to ask people for help, and I’m guessing you’re normally a very confident, independent person, especially if you’ve made the gutsy decision to move abroad! But now you will stumble, fail, struggle, and make a fool of yourself — on a regular basis. You will ask the men you date for help. You will seem needy. And you’re going to really hate that.

9. You’ll cry because you finally understand that sometimes, when a man knows how he feels about you right away, he will do things to show you, like bringing you flowers all the time, and taking you on dates or trips, and texting right back or heck even calling, and making you a priority in his life. You know, now, how it feels when someone is sure. So how could you have walked away from that? Because you were scared, and unsure yourself. But now dating feels different. You no longer have patience for things that feel a bit off, for men who are still getting their lives in order or who are, indeed, unsure of you, which is to be expected, what with all the crying.

10. You’ll cry because your parents are getting older and you value spending time with them, so what the hell are you doing a whole ocean away from them?!?

11. You will absolutely cry because you’re lonely and confused and the sky is very grey and you’re cold.

12. And also because, wow, look at that pink sunset over the Seine, my god, and you’re here aren’t you, you did it, how is this real, what an adventure your life has turned out to be, and you made it that way.

Sometimes I document my crying on Instagram (join me there!).

I’ve cried more in 2023 than I have in my whole life. That’s probably not true, but it feels like it. Put a few glasses of wine in me, and I start crying to my dates. Obviously I’m grieving a lot of things — versions of myself, of the future. But no one has died and nothing is irrevocably lost and summer is on the horizon.

And I also want to point out that I’m very privileged to be able to work abroad as a freelance writer, which gives me a flexible schedule to deal with setting up utilities, scheduling visa appointments, dealing with French bureaucracy, researching the rules regarding taxes and driver’s licenses, consulting an accountant who came highly recommended, etc. I often find myself thinking that things are working out solely because I have an abundance of flexibility and time. My friends who have full-time French jobs or young children here have it much harder! And they probably don’t cry or complain about it as much as I do!

But you know what? I like the crying, I do. Because in New Orleans, I wasn’t as, uh, sensitive as this. I couldn’t be vulnerable. I was a little hardened, I guess. An impenetrable fortress! This almost feels like a shift in my whole personality, which I wasn’t expecting. But if I emerge from it all a little shaken up, a little softer, the heart a bit tenderized, more patient with people and languages and above all myself — then all the tears will be worth it.

In other news, I was recently lucky enough to have a new poem published in the beautiful 10th issue of Paris Lit Up.

May we all enjoy the beauty we add to the world, with our tears and our tenderness, our curiosity and complexity, and our hearts that are open enough to feel love.