The arrival of the fiancé!

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Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.’ – Lao Tzu.
On Wednesday my fiancé came to Geneva. Not for a visit but to live. This isn’t a post about how my life is all sunshine and roses now that he’s here. Neither is it a post about mourning for the end of my Swiss bachelerotte days. If anything this post is a bit of a shoulder shrug to whatever it is I’m supposed to feel about all this.
I’m afraid I am not of the ‘You’re Nobody til Somebody Loves You’ philosophy (sorry Dean Martin). Nor do I believe that my fiancé completes me or that my life was somehow lacking until I met him. Don’t get me wrong having him to share my life with is great and he complements me in a way that has enriched my life, it just hasn’t made it ‘whole’.
What I love most about him (see I’m not so unsentimental I can’t use that word) is that he endorses the idea that it’s alright being me, because I’m alright as I am actually. I’m not a puzzle missing half the pieces that he gets to transform into the full picture.
And with the fiancé and the cats and the unpacked belongings in the new flat Geneva is starting to feel a bit more normal. But that feeling of normality is strange in itself. I’ve been here for over four months now but up until now it hasn’t really felt like I’ve lived here. I’ve worked, I’ve explored, I’ve tried new things and met new people but it has all felt a bit transitory. Now that he’s arrived the Geneva adventure has taken on more of a realistic tinge and has become that bit more ordinary.
People keep telling me it must be wonderful and so much better now he’s here. And it is but, if I’m honest, it is also going to take a bit of getting used to. I’ve had a fair few visitors since I’ve been here so I’m used to giving people my undivided attention and a glimpse of Geneva living. I’m also used to them going home after a few days. What I’m not used to is the constant presence of someone else sharing my life with me. Or more precisely this is what I’m no longer used to.
Screen Shot 2014-07-04 at 2.22.17 PMMe and the fella have been together for quite some time (seven years and counting). We’ve worked together, got cats together, lived together, been on holidays together, grown together and even managed to get engaged. It’s not like I’m not used to him its just that for the last four months we’ve been living completely separate existences that we’ve talked to each other about but haven’t shared in the same way.
He’s had to deal with all the realities of our upping sticks and moving to Geneva as I left in a bit of a flash and wasn’t able to help much in the wrapping up of our UK life. He had to move back in his with parents, sort the flat out for renters, notify relevant people/companies/etc. about leaving the country and finish up at work. I’ve had to carve out a new life for myself here, find a flat, find my way around, work out how the public transport works!
This rather special human being has enough faith in me to uproot his life entirely to take a chance on Geneva living with me. That’s a truly wonderful thing, it’s also pretty terrifying. It’s one thing taking chances and trying new challenges that just affect me, it’s quite another taking chances and trying new challenges with the responsibility that if it all goes pear-shaped it wont just be me that suffers the consequences.
Over the course of the seven plus years we’ve been together. We haven’t completed one another but have come to know each other well enough that we can both derive strength from the relationship and have courage to face challenges knowing that we’ve got a bit of reliable back-up in our corner.
He’s pretty good at encouraging me and giving me strength at those times when I’ve wanted to give up and go home. Also he has a marvelous ability to helpfully point out that we can’t go home as someone else lives there now.
Ultimately if Geneva turns out to be a massive disaster that will be on my head, although I can trust that he wont rub it in too much, but without him I don’t know if I’d have had the courage to try.

“Boldness has genius, power and magic in it”

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“Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always in effectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation) there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would otherwise never have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favour all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.” Johan Wolfgang Van Goethe.
I stumbled across this quote in a book of my brother’s, shortly after breaking up with my then boyfriend, whilst I was in my final year at University. It had a power for me then so I wrote it down. Today I have been unpacking the last of my boxes and in a typical act of Pottsy procrastination, whereby I have been compelled to look at every item in detail rather than simply putting things away, I found the book and found the quote.
A large part of my fear of the reaper philosophy has been fuelled by the realisation that sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith. In the past, when considering a new idea, if I couldn’t see the solution to every obstacle I thought of I used this to justify not even trying. Since I became conscious that my life was really in my hands (read more about this in my first blog post) I knew that I didn’t want to be held back by these fears anymore.
I know from experience that those niggling voices of doubt, telling you you can’t do something, are powerful and can hold you in check at moments when you don’t have the energy or optimism to drown them out. A lot of the best decisions in my life have been made when I have acted quickly to tie myself to the course of action that my heart tells me is the right thing to do.
I had became disillusioned with the role, the limitations imposed upon me, and lack of opportunities available to me in my first full-time job. So I decided to quit without a finalised plan of action. Granted I had the reassuring option that I could always move back to my parents but that wasn’t what I wanted and at the time handing in my notice felt like a scary leap of faith.
Providence acted quickly here and the very evening I resigned I came home to a letter offering me a new job. That job resulted in my meeting some great people, including my fiancé, and a wealth of opportunities and experiences that I am incredibly grateful for.
When I was offered a three month internship in Cambodia, that I had applied for without too much forethought, I committed before I could find excuses not to go. I arranged a period of unpaid leave with work, so I could undertake the role and have a job to come back to, and told so many people that not going would have been embarrassing.
As the date for my departure neared the reality of living so far away, in a culture so different to my own, without any income for three months hit me. I really wanted to back out but felt like I had trapped myself into the decision and there was no turning back. Which was just as well as I had an amazing time and would probably never have forgiven myself if I had pulled out because I let that hesitancy win.
Let’s skip to Geneva. Whilst, there were many great things about my old job I knew that I didn’t want to spend the next fourty-odd years working somewhere and doing something that I just wasn’t that interested in.
I had been searching for human rights jobs in London until one day I forgot to add the ‘London’ to the search criteria and the Geneva job came up. Had a quick chat with the fiancé about it, concluded might as well apply and see what happens. When I was offered an initial interview, thought about it a little more but, without worrying about the implications, decide I might as well plug on regardless. Then a second interview and a job offer followed and it was time to make a decision.
This wasn’t quite a blind leap of faith, there were things to consider like would the fiancé and the cats come? What would the fiancé do? What would we do with the flat? What about friends and family? Could we afford to do this? There were a lot of questions but the gut feeling was that I should go and we’d figure everything else out from there. So I accepted the job and moved to Geneva.
It hasn’t always been easy, I miss friends and family, and financial issues that would have been resolved had we just stayed in London have actually got a lot worse since moving here. Had I really thought in great detail about all this, had I focussed on every issue before committing myself there is a good chance I’d never even have applied. But here I am and, on balance, I’m happy with my decision.
Not moving to Geneva would have been easy but I don’t necessarily want easy, I want a life lived as fully as possible. My Geneva book club (I suspect there will be more on that in the future) led me into the path of Marcus Aurelius recently and I think he sums it up pretty well: “It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.” I can cope with financial difficulties, I can’t cope with letting fear of the unknown stop me from living.