Part 1 Apathy; The Beginning of the End
The first of 4 instalments on my journey back to myself and my home
Sep 18
She cracked open the spine of a new notebook. New notebook for a new beginning… again. 3 years can go by so fast, yet she can easily remember months when time was crawling by.
Here she was in a new apartment, half unpacked, dog toys scattered across the floor, asking herself a familiar question, one that she had been asking herself for the last 3 years.
Why am I here? And somehow simultaneously, did I do the right thing?
The light above her flickered. Was that a wink? A chuckle from the Universe? Was it a coincidence that since moving in 10 days ago, 3 lightbulbs had started to flicker on and off?
She made notes about her day to distract herself: her work tasks, dog care, quick sex in the bathroom in the dark (a fun treat), and her class tonight.
She didn’t eat enough today. A late lunch and now a protein shake. No wonder her body felt vibrate-y, not enough protein to repair her after all that exertion.
Today, her sleep was better than the last few days; not as much tossing and turning. Overall, she felt a little better—more balanced, more grounded. She was starting to get used to this place. Did she like it? The jury was still out. When you miss your home, you always find ways to compare it to where you are. You make lists of differences, pros and cons, to prove something to yourself.
Her birthday was a few days away, but she wasn’t excited. She hadn’t been excited for a birthday since she turned 29, up at the cottage with her friends. She loved to celebrate her birthday. Ever since her father introduced her to the concept of these annual celebrations of birth at the age of 6, she treated them like her own special holiday. She would usually plan things months in advance and get all her friends to book the days off work - if they couldn’t make it, she would take it as a personal attack on their friendship.
But ever since she turned 30 in a strange city, under ridiculous restrictions that had her sitting outside eating a poke bowl in 12-degree weather, birthdays just didn’t feel the same. No friends to see her, no big celebration. And this year was no exception. She’d been putting off choosing a restaurant for the last 2 weeks, and now it would be too close to make a reservation. But nothing seemed good enough. The places she looked at were either trying too hard or not trying hard enough.
She just wanted to be surprised. To let everyone else take care of it, so she could just show up. If only. But this year she was all alone. At least she had a new dress and nice boots, and a man who made her feel loved. For this year, that would have to be good enough.
Her nervous system still wouldn’t settle. She got activated so easily those days. And it took forever for her to fully relax. The city was so stimulating and nerve-wracking. So many noises, smells, people, traffic, construction.
Julian started to play the piano, and she could feel her muscles relaxing, her stomach digesting. Her body felt like it had finally been unplugged from the socket. Electricity was still running through it, but the current was slowing down.
Her pen slowed to a stop.
Sep 19
She left the restaurant and walked towards the station. She checked her map quickly, and it told her that taking the bus would be faster. She listened to the app and walked the 5 blocks to get to the bus stop. She was wearing her ragged 7-year-old jeans that had holes worn into the knees and bum, a clean grey “nice” tee shirt she just got and her chunky runners. She had just eaten dinner with C, who was visiting from the island. They ordered red wine and gossiped over pasta. They reminisced about all the bad men they had in their past and all the lessons they learned from these terrible relationships. They reflected on those hard times and then boasted about the good relationships they were finally in. C was sweet, smart and very mature for being 10 years younger than her. She held herself well and had good values underneath her slutty idgaf exterior. She was still a chaotic Aries after all, and she was marrying the Navy man next summer.
Thinking about their wedding made her stomach tighten. Would she still be here at that time?
The bus was taking a while. Both buses she could take on this route were not coming. She could see the flashing lights of an ambulance or a cop car in the distance. She figured there must be some type of delay. She didn’t really want to wait. She decided that the skytrain would be a better route after all and walked back down the 5 blocks, took the stairs underground and hopped on the train.
The transit here frustrated her because she did not know it well. In Toronto, she knew the alternate routes wherever she went. She knew the most reliable bus routes and the subway schedule. She knew what connected where. She could pivot easily, and she liked that. But everything here was new. Everything seemed unreliable and unpredictable.
She used to be able to ride the busy subway and not need to hold on for balance. She would surf along the middle of the car for 10 or more stops because she knew every twist and turn like the back of her hand. She had ridden the trains hundreds if not thousands of times. She knew them all by heart. She knew that if she started walking through the train from the last car at Spadina station, she could walk through to the other end before she hit St. Clair station. She knew the stations where the train was most likely to be delayed, which way the doors were going to open, where to stand and where to get off the train to access the escalator at any given stop, what time the trains stopped running, etc. It was logged into her memory like a map she could not forget. And not knowing any of those things here made her feel lost and slow.
She had been moderately excited to move here after going back to Toronto was off the table. But after the stress of the move, she felt more apathetic than anything else. Like she just didn’t care anymore. She hoped that writing again would help bring back her care and excitement for being in this new place.
She got off the skytrain and waited for the bus. She reminded herself that big transitions were always hard and that it took a very long time to get her footing on the island, and she was able to do that. But she didn’t want to be here for another 3 years. Nothankyoujusttakemehomenowplease.
Finally, a bus that could take her home pulled up. The #100 was a new one for her. She logged its route away in her brain. But it detoured from what it showed on the map and went 6 blocks past her house instead of dropping her off right at home. Unreliable. She rolled her eyes and got off the bus, and walked the rest of the way home.
Oct 4
2 weeks later and 1 year older. September was over. It flew by and didn’t wait for anyone to catch up. Her birthday was simple - one day, nothing special. Not her usual 3 day or week-long extravaganza. Was she maturing or just depressed? She couldn’t quite tell.
Her morning was spent at the 3-hour dance training that took her an hour and a half to get to. It felt good to be dancing and moving her body on her birthday, but it still didn’t remedy the loneliness she felt.
The restaurant she chose was quaint and simple, but the food, oysters, and wine were all exquisite. To get there you had to walk through a back alley, embellished with needles, broken glass, purple street lights (to hide your veins) and crackheads shooting up in the corners.
Her nervous system wasn’t settled yet, and this didn’t make it much better. She tried to remind herself to be grateful that she was in a beautiful new dress that showed off her delicate collarbone, one shoulder and a little leg. And that she was with her man, the one that she trusted with her life. He was truly all she needed. That would have to be good enough to get her through. After paying the check, they hunted for a place with good dessert - she had her heart set on a chocolate cake. Unfortunately, the only place that had anything close (brownies) was a pub. The brownies were warm, but they were stale. She had 3 bites and some scoops of ice cream and wanted to go home. She didn’t take any of it to go. After the long and full day, she was truly exhausted.
It wasn’t the best birthday, but it also wasn’t the worst. This year it was just a day, and now suddenly she was 33. And though the birthday was not particularly special, the year would be. She vowed to make sure of that.