Alright alright alright!
I tried to procrastinate this post for so long because of the simple sense that until very recently, it was difficult to resonate with the positivity needed to write something out. You might think my humour gets better the more I am alone, but ironically enough, it is quite the opposite.
Being alone is amazing. When you actually choose to be. When you’re forced to? Somehow my pisces introvert instincts completely dissipate and I am left craving all realms of social and physical interaction. Perhaps it’s the fact that I have not been able to tongue my girlfriends on evenings drowning in tequila and Jameson, or that I have no been groped or prodded by any drunken CEOs or finance men since being laid off from work, or perhaps it’s my inability to continuously spend evenings with all of the wrong men. To be honest, I believe it’s a little bit of all of it.
Now since this “isolation” period has began, I have moved in to an actual house, with an actual backyard, a front porch, a garage, a walkable neighbourhood and (dare I say it) a roommate. You all must wonder just how in god’s name was I capable of pushing myself to such a venture given the way I had sworn off living with anyone, quite possibly even a husband. The answer here is simple, no person deserves to carry your own baggage, and my god did I ever luck out. I ask myself where I would be had I stayed in my 500sq. ft tiny apartment with no outdoor space and a major lack of sanitation on the management’s choice. Probably ill with Covid. Alas, here we are, thriving, pushing one another to improve and do better. I could not have asked for a better situation.
Fast forward to day 35 of this. I have spent one hell of what one would call, perhaps, too much time revising old choices, habits and reflecting on just what it is that has brought me to this stage. Well kids, listen up, because I have learnt a fuck ton about myself.
First and foremost, my spending habits. I haaaaaate that I am saying this in writing, I still have yet to fully accept it on my own. So here it goes: My spending habits are the literal and sole cause of why I was in debt and the reason had very little to do with how much it costed to live in BC. There. I said it. Now I’m going to go kick rocks because I am a fucking asshole. But SERIOUSLY, I am currently living at a reasonable home, with a very cool roommate, I have a pretty rad jeep, amazing animals, and paying off debt while learning to cook and bake all in the same time, while on EI. I am living my best version that I could possibly be in this moment (give or take a few too many Jamesons here and there) and my income is more than halved. I was the problem, it’s me, it’s always been me.
Which leads me into the second great reflection, my choice to move here. Oops. Hell, I will be very clear on this: I do not for one second regret my choice to end up in Calgary. This city is like no other, it is a city with less traffic, better affordability, opportunity to actually own a home without my financially absent parental assistance, ability to succeed in wildly creative ways, all with the characters of small town people. I love this city. But I would be lying more than all of my exes combined if I did not admit that had I realized just how much I spend, I could have very likely discovered that I could have stayed. But I didn’t want to listen to that logic. No. Of course not. My wildly millennial BS would’ve never allowed that. So here I sit, in my own anger and bitter resentment of myself, stuck between this incredible city that I see so much success building and the mere realization that I could likely survive and even thrive while being only a few blocks away from my mother and my dearest friends whom I am tragically homesick for these last few weeks.
And last but certainly not least of my toxic cycle… I have learnt a lot about the choices I make in relationships, the people I choose to keep closest to me, the men I choose to run away from and quite honestly, I have come to terms with the fact that I have made the largest mistake in human history (Sorry Trump, I take the cake) by running from the one perfect individual that I was so afraid to love. Somehow this “me” being the frequent conflict is seemingly repeated more often than a broken record cycling over and over that one “For Emma” lyric on my original Bon Iver vinyl that I fell in love with. To say the least, this is no longer a “whoa is me” situation. Once again, it’s me. I am the problem. And I hate myself for it.
So what the f@&k is next? Well, the world is broken, we are all in pieces, scraping up whatever leftovers we had once had from our plans and goals. This is not a world in which we need to make drastic life changes. No, this is a world of reflection, of revision. We are in a beautiful position where no person has a place to be, a thing to buy, a city to fly to. Take this time (like I am doing all too well) to genuinely look at who you are, who you have been and who you want to be. This is the perfect scenario to reinvent what you choose to be. Become painfully honest with yourself, look at the hard truths, the difficult paths and turns you have taken and options ahead of you. Come out of this ready, focused and set on your goals. Become the person that you never had time to become because you were always “too busy” to take the time.
Good luck. Lord knows we need it.
Neesh Media 