Left a good man in the city Workin' for the man ev'ry night and day And I never lost one minute of sleepin' Worryin' 'bout the way things might have been.
Big plane keep on soarin' Proud woman keep on roarin' Flyin', flyin', flyin' cross the ocean
In my experience running away from pain can be just as intelligent as is lying on the analyst's couch, or on my own with a bag of Oreos! For me, a woman over 50, it was a plane or the couch and I chose a one way ticket to Paris ... for as long as my small savings would last. All I needed was the courage to GO. I went.
I arrived and instantly believed in life and love once again. I chatted people up (many Parisians speak English and are only rude if you are), checked out Craigslist and found fantastic rentals ... both in Le Marais on the Right Bank (the old Jewish quarter and one of the most authentic areas in Paris). I located The Lizard Lounge (called the "American Bar") and I quickly made friends, set up laptop, wrote my articles, drank cappuccinos and made friends. In the evening, this is a great bar, with music spilling out onto the sidewalk. For me, it was my local coffee shop.
My divorce from American reality quickly became an affair with Paris. I roamed the streets, curled up to read Collette on a couch at Shakespeare & Co, met people and was even given the keys to a 13th Century Citadel apt on Corsica for as long as I wished to stay. I never did learn the language!