Willingness

This post first appeared in As Diana O Sees It on July 20, 2023

A small group of us walked along a Swiss alpine riverbank. Our new friend, Matthieu*, spoke about run-ins with California state troopers, his alcohol and drug abuse, his personal bankruptcy, divorce, deportation from the United States separating him from his children, and his stay in a Swiss treatment center from which he had just checked out.

Why hadn't he sought help earlier on his path of destruction?

“I guess I needed to feel more pain,” he said with a smile.

Ah the gift of desperation!

I told them my story.

One year earlier on that same riverbank, when I had been living in the Swiss Alps for nearly 10 years and been sober for six, I had had a panic attack while running.

This panic attack had come about after the end of a long relationship that felt like a divorce. I had been using blame, busyness, denial, not eating, and running to avoid feelings.

That February morning, it was about 10 degrees below zero Celsius. Now looking back, it was suicidal to run alone, in that cold, and in that deserted area. About a mile down the snowy path, my body started to shake and sweat, my heart raced, my breath felt smothered, and my chest hurt.

"Am I going crazy or is my heart breaking?" I thought.

A few minutes went by and the dizziness went away. Breathing resumed enabling me to run back to my car. Exhausted yet grateful I hadn’t passed out, I called a friend.

“Don’t panic,” she told me. “Emotional pain will not kill you. Just lean into it.”

I expressed my willingness to go to any lengths to get rid of my obsessive suffering and fear of abandonment.

“A healthy man wants a thousand things, a sick man only wants one,” comes to mind. While the quote's attribution remains uncertain, it is a reminder about pain and its way of narrowing our focus and priorities.

That’s when I started the work.

That “gift of desperation" is something I thank daily.

(*name changed to protect anonymity)

It's never too late to learn rules of the road

I've had my driver's license since I was 16 years old. Granted, the test that I took in Middletown, Rhode Island, was easy. No highway driving and no parallel parking were required, (although I had practiced it with my instructor). All I was required to do was drive around the block, use my blinker and execute a three point turn. Voilà!

The most valuable driving knowledge I have collected during the past 24 years, I've learned on the road.

Like the day I drove a friend from Newport to Cape Cod and forgot to look over my shoulder to check the blind spot before passing a car on the highway. Thank goodness my friend yelped, as I could swerve back into my lane on time and avoid an accident.

Or the four times, I lightly hit a car in a parking lot, because I misjudged the distances or forgot to use my mirrors.

Or when I slid into a speeding car that was going uphill on an icy single lane road. I learned that even though the driver of that car was speeding, she had the right of way being the car going uphill, and I, being the car going downhill, must always have control over my vehicle no matter the condition of the road.

So, after living in the Swiss Alps for the past nine years, I am still learning valuable information about driving, and especially about driving in Europe. And, now I know why I've had the following strange and unpleasant experiences at two intersections in my village:

• Near-collisions;

• Drivers honking at me;

• Drivers wildly gesturing with their mouths open;

• My uttering of swearwords (out of earshot of those outside my car) at what I perceived to be the rudeness of other drivers.

Then, a good Swiss friend educated me.

It's called priority to the right or 'priorité à droite' in French. Here it is. If you are driving along in a village and the speed limit is 20-40 km/hr, anyone joining that road from your right hand side (even if they are on a small side road and you are on a major road) has priority over you. They don't have to stop, (as they do in the USA), you do even if you are traveling at a good clip. This rule is valid unless otherwise indicated by a stop or yield sign or if a yellow diamond sign tells you you are on the main road.

If in doubt, slow down, keep you eyes open and your foot near the brake, and be ready to be courteous (but don't expect any thank yous)!

Staying positive is key

When I first moved to the Swiss Alps back in 2002, my city friends told me I was crazy. They said that I was not only limiting myself professionally, but also socially, intellectually, and culturally. I stubbornly told them that living in the mountains, close to nature, and with so many outdoor activities was healthy for me and my family. I explained that I wanted my children to experience walking to a country farm school every day and growing up without the materialism of the cities. I also wanted my children to get to know their family roots and neighbors. Not to mention, I wanted them to become fluent in German and Swiss German.

I have to admit that there were times since our move, when I joined my city friends in questioning my decision to live in the boonies. Thankfully, those moments of self-doubt were few and far between and only became really apparent during bouts of loneliness.

You see my problem during my first few years in Switzerland was that I lacked friends. It has often been said that Swiss women--like their French counterparts--are not the warmest people on the planet. They rarely, if ever, invite strange new neighbors into their homes for coffee. And, I was too shy to invite them. So, for the first four years living in the Swiss Alps, I didn't make one single Swiss woman friend. And this contributed to feelings of loneliness and uncertainty.

The strongest moments of self-doubt arose whenever I was confronted with what I perceived as prejudice, xenophobia, 'small-minded' negative thinking, fundamental Christian extremism, and less than adequate education. It was during such times that I would start thinking about moving to New York.

One day, I had a discussion with a British and American couple about Swiss education.

"What? Your kids only go to school half-day?" asked the husband. "How can they learn enough in just four hours a day?"

They were outraged when they learned that high school or Gymnasium is not mandatory in Switzerland and that two thirds of all children follow a vocational path after the ninth grade. After that discussion, I found myself googling private international schools in Switzerland and in Florida. But, a Swiss friend reassured me.

"Don't worry, Diana," he said. "To get into a Gymnasium, children have to make it into secondary schools. If your daughter gets into secondary school, she'll get a better education than in any private school."

Ever since then, I've prayed that my children will make it into secondary school. If they don't get in, I don't know what I will do.

In the meantime, I've addressed the lack of intellectual and social stimulation in my life. I've made friends with English-language women. I have come to realize that we share similar experiences and outlooks on life in Switzerland. They, too were thirsty for intellectual and social stimulation. So, we started a book club. At first, the ladies were dead-set against starting something too organized for fear of becoming another typical Swiss Verein or Association. They'd had enough of negative rule-mongers. So, we decided against having a name; it would sound too official.

Nearly two years have gone by and our book club membership has grown to 19 people. Some women have shown an interest in being in the book club but don't want to read the books, showing how isolated a non-Swiss woman can feel in Switzerland. We've created a "social" category for our book club to take care of those cases. There exists a small tug-of-war between some of us who would like a bit of structure and others who want to keep it loose.

We keep it positive, and I think that's what matters most.

And strangely, since the beginning of the book club, I've noticed that my Swiss neighbors have warmed up. Perhaps, they've sensed a change in me. Perhaps, I smile more. Perhaps, I've warmed up. Perhaps, I've stopped caring about what they might think of me. Whatever it is, they now now invite me into their homes for coffee. In turn, I reciprocate. Small steps...