I’ve been home for 23 hours and I still don’t know how to feel about. I really don’t even know where to begin with this post.

121 days ago, I left my home country once more to move to France for the second time, with zero expectations, a little fear and a lot of excitement. Yesterday, I left the city, and my beloved France, with a very heavy and full heart.

I managed to fuck my trains up which came as a bittersweet blissing. Basically, I’d booked my second leg of the trip on Tuesday and my first leg of the trip on Wednesday and I rebooked it so I was leaving Wednesday as it was cheaper. As lucky as I was to even notice this on Monday, and to have the extra day in Bordeaux, it made the whole moving back a bit weird.

On Monday night I’d planned to have a couple ofย very last drinks with a couple of people and we went out but because the idea that I was leaving the next day was stuck in my head, I was in a bit of a crap mood and didn’t enjoy myself that much.

However, the next day, the extra free day I got in Bordeaux, I was all chirpy and when we went out later that night, all I wanted to do was stay out (which I did, woops!) as it didn’t feel like I had 15 hours of travel the next day.

Even the whole day on the train I didn’t cry. At a lot of moments, a deep sadness overwhelmed me and I’d text Hannah to tell her I miss her or look at photos which made me worse. But in the back of my mind I felt like I was just taking a weekend away or something, not actually leaving.

When I finally got off my last train, after being delayed, seeing my family changed things a little bit. On one hand, I was completely over the moon to see them all and just chat and catch up on everything. But every time a little silence came in to the conversation or I had a second to pause and think, I got deeply sad about being back in Scotland and not being in Bordeaux.

Everyone told me before I left that Bordeaux would just feel like this distant dream. And that’s exactly what I would’ve said to anyone had they been in my situation, considering that’s what happened when I left Aix. However, I just knew something would be different this time around. Ironically, now it feels like I’m in a dream away from my beautiful reality in Bordeaux. A terrible dream.

I know my sadness stems from the fact that I’ll be living in Dunfermline, where there’s absolutely nothing to do, and not in Glasgow. That also eliminates a lot of my freedom since I’ll be living with my parents, and as much as it’ll be great to have their company for nine months, I haven’t lived at home for four years and I’m extremely used to my own space and doing my own thing.

I honestly don’t even know what to write at this moment. I’m struggling to express my sadness to myself, never mind writing it down. However, I’m waiting for the moment that it truly hits I’m not going back to Bordeaux. I’m not looking forward to it, at all.

I don’t even want to write my next words, they make my heart ache…

Goodbye Bordeaux.

ร€ bientรดt !

On 1st May 2016, I decided to write a blog post on the first day of each month (at least throughout the summer) to kind of pinpoint this period of my life, which I’m spending living in the city of Bordeaux. The only condition to this series is that I must read my previous post before I write the new one.

Here’s the full series:

1 May: Blind, Unknowing, Zealous Jenny

1 June: Determined, Powerful, Optimistic Jenny

1 July: Poor, Content, Hustling Jenny

1 August: Changed, Stressed, Bittersweet Jenny

1 September: Leaving Bordeaux 121 days later