A Cariad Life

These last few weeks in SW France we have been having summer storms. Just like in NC, when I was a little girl, the air grows hot and heavy–the humidity often about 75% without a drop of rain in the air. Just moving feels like an effort and all you really want to do is sit and fan yourself because otherwise you covered in sweat (most of our area of France doesn’t have AC). Through all of it, you just pray for rain…relief. Then, it comes–the clouds darken and roll in, the temperature drops suddenly, there is a bolt of lightning and then a few seconds later a crack of thunder that reverberates across the hills and valleys surrounding our village…and then a downpour of rain (hopefully, not hail) comes. Just like when I was little, I will sit at the open office window on the third floor, waiting for the storm to come. These storms are stunning and you can sense they have been brewing for a while; they are commanding and also serve to break the tension in the atmosphere–they also tend to disrupt and stop almost everything outdoors. They are uniquely part of summer here, and I am starting to see their greater significance.

I’ve always loved the start of summer…as a teacher and instructional coach, it meant the end of a school year–an end with a brief respite of sleeping in, doing the things I never had time for during the school year, and spending more time with my own kids. Even when I became an administrator and worked year-round, the summer months signified the end of a school year and three months of resetting for the year ahead. Most of our employees weren’t working, so it gave me time to plan and be creative. For the first time for me professionally, summer is busier than ever. Since May 15, with the weather getting warmer and the sun out much more (it is seriously warm here), our business increased by a third. We now always have several days a week of being 100% full, and we’ve even had to turn away business because we just don’t have space. It’s good from a business aspect…from a work/life balance perspective it is tough. We wash and iron more sheets, shop for more supplies, and clean more than ever–all in the heat.

There have been days that we work for 17 days straight, and we start to feel the fracturing of our patience, within ourselves and with one another. That tension can never be visible to guests, but like a brewing storm, we can feel it–the tension, the wear of the day-in/day-out work. Sometimes, just like a summer storm–we have to stop. We have to take days, time when we block a couple of rooms or the whole B&B from taking guests. It’s so counterintuitive though because we know when we close, we don’t make money. Yet, just like those storms there has to be a release, letting go.

I think at times we all can glorify one another’s lives–social media doesn’t help with this does it? We see each other’s best moments, best days, and happiest selves online. Yet, rarely do we see the mundane, let alone the bad, sad, or disappointed sides of ourselves. Here’s the thing though, we all have things brewing in our lives, and sometimes (with someone safe) we just have to share, release, before it blows up. So here are the hard facts for me right now: sometimes running a B&B is not fun–sometimes, it’s boring. There are dirty parts, frustrating parts, and annoying parts. Living in France is hard when you don’t fully know the language and you’re still learning the culture. Being away from your kids (especially when they are going through a difficult time) really stinks. And, it would be really, really nice to make more money doing this work. Sometimes, I’m hot, tired, and not in a really good mood, but when I am interacting with guests, I have to put that on the back burner. Unfortunately, that means Darrell gets the pent-up frustration and I don’t always give him my best self.

What I have realized though is I have to allow myself (and Darrell) to feel what we feel, give myself some space for that, and not feel guilty that our experience here is not perfect. (Did you hear that? living your dream in France is not perfect–there are problems) However, just because I feel that way sometimes doesn’t mean it was mistake to come here. I have to just release those feelings (and my own expectations of perfection) just like that summer storm, and rest, rest is pivotal to letting that happen. I feel like my whole life has been a journey of learning vulnerability and being authentic. France is certainly continuing to give me those lessons.

So…signing off for now because we have another 100% full night this evening:)