Does Moving to France Change You? | Mardi Musings with Jen

Before we packed up our lives and made the leap across the Channel, I had a very specific vision of what my future self would look like.

I think many of us do when we dream of moving abroad. We don’t just imagine a change of scenery; we imagine a change of soul.

I genuinely thought that as I got older—and especially once we were safely ensconced in our new life in France—I might get a bit more delightfully eccentric. I had a whole mental mood board of the woman I was going to become.

The Ultimate Expat Checklist (In My Head)

In my pre-France daydream, I had a few rules for my impending eccentric era:

• The Wardrobe: I fully intended to adopt a beret. To wear, mind you, rather than adopt one into the family. I imagined pairing it with clothes chosen purely because I liked them, whether they actually matched or not. A unique blend of comfort, style, and a slightly feral outlook on fashion. It’s a thing, I promise.

• The Attitude: I was going to dance wildly and inappropriately at village fêtes. I vowed to be a little louder. Not the obnoxious kind of loud—shouting into my phone or berating poor waiting staff—but rather the unapologetic kind of loud. The kind that says: “I don’t really care if you don’t like me, I’m not going to shrink into a version of myself that makes you feel more comfortable.”

• The Lifestyle: I thought I’d finally develop a sophisticated love of French wine and learn to truly savour sharing the odd glass with neighbours on warm summer evenings.

I thought a lot about what it would be like to come and live in France. I anticipated the paperwork, the language barrier, and the culture shock. But I didn't quite anticipate what would happen to me.

Then, Reality Stepped In...

Turns out? Most of it happened anyway.

It didn't happen overnight with a dramatic movie-montage transformation. Instead, it crept up on me. It happened gradually, and then all at once—and mostly without asking anyone's permission.

I do care a lot less about fitting into a neat little box. I do dress for my own comfort and joy. I have found that unapologetic, slightly wilder version of Jen.

...I never did get that beret, though!

Did France Change You, or Just Give You Permission?

When I shared these thoughts with our community on Facebook recently, I was struck by how much it resonated with so many of you.

Our lovely reader Judy mentioned she actually got a beret as a leaving gift eight years ago, but noted, "I think I’ve become more myself here at home in France." Twyla shared a sentiment that I think a lot of expats feel deep in their bones: "I’ve begun, very slowly, to rediscover the parts of me I loved that became buried back in Canada. Happier, more positive..."

Even my partner-in-crime Jenna chimed in to say, "Ohhhh I definitely changed... became more happy to be me."

It begs a fascinating question about the expat journey. When we move to a new country, do the new culture, the slower pace, and the distance from our old lives actually change us? Or does stripping away our old routines simply give us the quiet permission we always needed to finally be our true, unfiltered selves?

For me, I think France acts like a mirror that cleans off the dust of who you thought you had to be, leaving you with who you actually are. My best self is definitely right now.

Over to You...

I’d love to know your thoughts. For those of you who have made the move, or even those who are still dreaming about it: Did France change you, or did it just give you permission to be more yourself?

Drop a comment below and let’s chat!

Bisous, Jen xx