detours

The photo above is from a roll of film I took when I was in Chestermere, Alberta last winter. I went on a particularly chilly walk with my niece who was in an on again, off again relationship with her mittens the entire time. I completely relate.

The other day I was driving to work with my once-partner-turned-bff, Mar, and she stated that moving to Ontario feels like one of the weirdest detours ever in both of our stories. She said it feels like a side quest we decided to take for a little while. And it could have not happened at all, but it did. It’s funny how hearing her say that felt like a massive exhale for me. The last year and a half has been one of the hardest seasons of my life by a long shot but it didn’t have to be. We didn’t have to be here, but it’s like hearing someone say how hard it was made it real that we’re nearing the light at the end of the tunnel somehow.

It’s going to be summer soon and summer means sunlight. It feels like it’s been a really dark time since moving back to Ontario. We moved in with my parents in October 2023 and then a month later a family member passed away really suddenly. I was working at the cemetery as a full-timer for the first time and the learning curve was steep. That winter was slow and I felt kind of useless in my role. I was in an existential spiral about what I was doing and where I was going and nothing felt right. I didn’t really have friends in my vicinity for the first time in my life. I didn’t really know why I moved back here. And I couldn’t just get up and leave anymore because I had decided to take on a contract that I was determined to finish. And I also had moved back here with a partner (which is something I’ve never done. Basically all of my adult relationships have taken place in BC, so this was a whole new ballgame).

I used to need to talk about how I wish things could be different but honestly I don’t really want to play that game anymore. I really just want to keep moving forward, keep figuring out what’s next.

I think I’ve come full circle with some things over this last cycle, season, episode, whatever. Recently I’ve been reflecting on how insane it is to regret life decisions when they are things you chose at a certain time when you were going through a certain thing. It’s okay! I’m realizing there are a lot of things I’ve chosen and then later blamed someone else for inspiring that choice when it was always mine to make. And I was probably just too scared to do the thing I really wanted to do. Oh man, have I been scared.

So I’m looking at my life and wanting to choose “better” for myself, which could mean a lot of different things. I’m not trying to choose “stability” or “conventional” or even “realistic”. I’m trying to choose what feels authentic for me, and isn’t motivated by fear. I guess I’m understanding that I might always feel like a chaotic little tornado and I need to act accordingly! I don’t want to shame myself for being who I’ve always been. I’m unpredictable. I’m messy. I collect things I don’t need to collect. Like tiny little rocks and mini animals my friends have mailed me over the years and buttons and beads from friendship bracelets I remember making at the dining room table of my grade 3 best friends’ house. I want to travel light but I also have too many art supplies. I love propagating plants but am never in one place for long enough to really watch them take off. I keep a jar of googly eyes on my writing desk. They inspire me but also I can always here the voice of my dad in the back of my head telling me to put everything away once I’m done using it but I just like having things on my desk to look at all the time. I keep paintings I don’t like because maybe secretly I actually do. Or because maybe I don’t want to believe anything has to go to waste. I believe in the potential bloomability of things.

I am realizing that the things I collect also stress me out but they only stress me out because I don’t have a forever home yet. I didn’t really used to think about having my own home. When I was younger I always imagined my sisters and I having a home together but I never wanted my own place. I liked the idea of living around other people but always having the ability to go be alone to write and listen to music and write some more. My sisters were always my home. Now my sisters and I all live in different provinces. Ontario, Alberta, BC. So where is home? I’d like to think someday I will know where home is again but it’s hard to know.

I don’t know if maybe I’m going to turn into the person who wants to have her own home. A place where people can come for tea and a cry. A place where I’ll garden and cook and play loud music. Maybe I’ll continue to be on the move for a while, who knows? It certainly feels like I’m rounding a corner with work and home and I really don’t know what’s next. I move out of my current apartment at the end of May. The rest will come in good time, I’m sure of it. But for now, I feel ready to look at a compass and get back on the road. Accepting the detour for what it has been. Believing there is another adventure to be had just around the corner. Excited to meet new faces along the way. Motivated to keep writing about it. Determined to let myself be seen in the midst of evolution because something inside of me has clicked and understood that the assignment wasn’t to excel the fastest or achieve the things that would ensure success. The assignment was always to figure out who I am and how to be here. So I think I’m doing okay. Bring on the detours.