FROM THE NORM TO THE MARGIN

Follow your path.

Yesterday I had my son on the phone. We talked for a long time as I often do with my children. I love it. We talked about him and what he was doing. He also asked me how things were going for us. I think he is wondering if we are happy that we followed him to Asia.

I know I made the right choice for my last daughter and myself. He gave us an incredible chance to live differently. I had to seize this opportunity. There are too many things that don't happen twice. And even though they are scary at first, they allow us to become a little more of who we really are. Every time I make the choice to change, I sleep badly, my gut churns, I find that what I'm about to give up isn't so bad after all. My survival instinct, which sees danger in anything new, is very powerful. My children in France tell me that they miss me and the reverse is true. I would like to hug and kiss my little one who is already over a month old. Family dinners that I can't attend make me feel the distance, and my former colleagues tell me that they miss me. I'd be lying if I told you that it didn't flatter my ego. But all these elements put together, question my decision for next year. Finally I have a life I love in France. And if we get sick here, can I afford it? My youngest's school is expensive and I am still waiting for the money that was supposed to be paid to me last March. Will I be able to give her the education she deserves? And if my extension of availability is refused, am I prepared to risk being without this spare tire?

I'm anxious, I'm doubtful, I'm reconsidering my decision to continue living abroad next school year. I talk about it to my son who, with his usual diplomacy, asks me if I wouldn't like to live in anxiety by chance. Children's frankness is unparalleled. I explain to him that I have to think about all this because I'm not committing myself alone and that I have to take steps at the beginning of next year. I hate living in anxiety but I don't want to go through what I did when I left our house four and a half years ago. He tells me that if I go back to France for good, I'll go back. That would be a pity and that he can employ me for the long term because my work suits him and he has plenty of other things to entrust to me. It's true that in my life as a teacher, in order to have a comfortable income (and also because I loved my work and my pupils) I worked 24 hours a day. I didn't have a life on the side. My last one was often on her own. Now I'm cooking again, writing, learning a new language, doing sports and doing my best to do the job my boy gives me. I have a comfortable and peaceful life. No more underground, no more papers to correct or lessons to prepare during the holidays, weekends and evenings. However, I don't see myself spending a second year in Bali. We're very happy there, but I've realised that I need the city, its dynamism. I need it to be vibrant. I want to go to the opera, to the museum, to walk down the street on avenues. So we need to find another country not too far from my son. Another goal to achieve.

Just now, I'm talking to my daughter about the emails from her high school about her post-bac orientation. And suddenly I realise that my questions, hesitations and doubts are the same as hers, that I underestimated the pressure that my four older children were under at the time. I understand better the difficulties I have in making a decision without being influenced by the people around me, in choosing what suits me. Suddenly my stomach doesn't hurt.

We should put ourselves more in our children's shoes to understand them better and listen to them.