Before and After a New Beginning

A few excerpts from my written journal from shortly before and shortly after moving to London, UK.

Thursday - 09.07.23

I leave for England in less than two weeks and it feels like there are still so many things left up in the air. The only thing I’ve really done in preparation is buy my flight ticket.

I wonder how living in a new continent will change me. I hope I get to see more of the world. I hope I meet new people and make new friends and memories. I hope life opens up for me in new and beautiful ways.

I feel myself changing, and I feel myself staying the same.

I still notice something on the floor - a pair of sunglasses, a stick of deodorant, my Burts Bees lip balm - and neglect to pick it up; I still leave a trail of clutter on every available surface; I still put off doing things even when I know they’d be so easy to get done.

Sometimes it seems like I’ve been stagnant for years - like I’m caught in a loop that resurfaces with every new moon - but I can also feel how much I’ve grown.

I’m no longer as messy or chaotic. I have a better head on my shoulders. I understand my actions and reactions just a little bit better.

I’m slowly outgrowing my vices. I have a better grip on self-control. I don’t always need the false promise of a late night that bleeds into the morning. I no longer feel the craving to lose myself in another person’s body, tangled up in misguided encounters in the name of some carnal satisfaction.

I’m not as easy to convince or persuade. I have a firmer stance on things. I’m so much more okay with being on my own. It feels less and less like I’m desperately grasping for things, and I feel closer to God.

All of this is to say that I’ve grown and I’m growing. When I think I’ve taken some unfortunate steps backward, I remind myself that progress isn’t linear; it happens steadily, in swaths and trends that I can often only see when I have enough time and space to glimpse the big picture. It’s always hard when you’re still in the middle of it.

I think my 20s were about figuring myself out; getting to know myself and learning who I am, what I stand for, and what I believe in. They were about about trying new things, testing new waters, and seeing what works for me - and what doesn’t.

I hope that my 30s are more about embracing who I’ve found myself to be; settling into myself, accepting myself, and loving myself so much it spills out to everyone else.

Thursday - 09.24.23

I should be looking at apartments, or working on my portfolio, or doing any of the thousand things I need to do in preparation for the Big Move.

But I woke up today at noon, after once again sleeping at 3am, and instead I’m paralyzed, lying in bed and lacking all sense of motivation or urgency.

I’m thinking about my youth: high school summers spent at late-night parties or on midnight prowls, stumbling through the dark blossoming of adolescence, reaching out and grasping at anything that might support the weight of who I was becoming.

It’s a sad and sobering shame that it’s impossible to remember every detail; that all I have left are tiny snapshots and moments - little pieces torn out of the complex tapestry: holding someone’s hand as we strolled down empty streets, glistening in the heat of another sweltering night; sitting on a grassy hill watching far away lightning rip through the sky, leaning on each other in the pouring rain; a soft and quiet kiss through a chain link fence; naked bodies finding each other, innocently, in a closed pool.

These are the images I return to time and time again.

Strangely, I think of a friend I once had years ago. I would visit her at work and we would explore the rooftops of downtown Toronto, late into the witching hours. I remember being happy to always have someone to walk with. I wonder where she is now.

It’s strange and sad how people often drift apart. It takes so much effort to keep people close, and it seems like everyone is always so tired. But when you have true friends - people who’ve really seen you, and might know and understand you - isn’t the effort worth it? Making and keeping those friends - as I grow older and older, I sense more and more how hard it is, and how we shouldn’t take it for granted.

And still, as the eternal optimist, there is always that ever-living hope burning somewhere in the pit of my heart: the hope that friendships - all relationships - are never truly over, and reconnection might always be a simple message away.

You can never truly get back the magic of who two people were together at a moment in time, but perhaps you can build toward something new that might honour it.

I guess as I prepare to embark on a new chapter in my life, I’m starting to feel nostalgic about everything I’m leaving behind - all the different versions of who I am and who I was, for the sake of who I’m becoming. I’m taking some time to look back and try to piece together the things that gave my life meaning, once upon a time.

When I think of the joy of my youth, I don’t think of university, or music festivals, or nights blacked out in some insufferable club. I think of high school summers, when everything felt free, expanding with possibility and bursting with gold.

Somewhere out there, a part of me will always be running around those immortal city streets - breathless, in the dead of night, full of life, with the people I loved.

Thursday - 09.19.23

By this time tomorrow, I’ll be on a flight, heading toward a new life. I have a lot of prayers for myself. I truly hope I can let pieces of my old self go - prune the plant to make room for new growth.

I want to be strong in my convictions. I want to not get carried away or swept up in currents I don’t belong in. I want to surround myself with people who bring out the best in me and make me a better person.

I wonder where I’ll end up living. I wonder what I’ll end up doing. I wonder who I’ll end up meeting.

The first blank page of a new chapter is always so exciting. I hope I have a better head on my shoulders.

As always, I guess only time will tell.

Tuesday - 10.10.23

The storm brews slowly. I find a home in the midst of it all and I approach it with a nameless trepidation. I make excuses before learning how to settle - before learning how to lay everything down.

I weave new memories together. I say hello to strangers. I go to strangers’ homes.

I almost lose one thing (a bag), but instead lose another (the strength of my conviction).

I tell myself that progress isn’t linear, but surely it must be more linear than this.

I don’t know what I want. Competing voices echo endlessly in my head. How do I drown them out? How do I focus on the one singular true thing? The sound of God in the buzz of the city.

Can I forge something new for myself here? Can I take hold of something better? Or will I be stuck in the same old cycles, with these old tricks played on new days?

There is a sense of hope floating over everything and maybe once I’m truly alone, I’ll be able to grasp it.

I can carve a space for myself here. I can grow into my own. I can find a home for my becoming.

Everything moves fast and slow.

Almost a month goes by and I’m only now about to leave square one. And then, hopefully, take off.

Sunday - 10.22.23

Things change so quickly all the time. My feelings fluctuate constantly and it’s difficult to keep track of where I stand. The world spins in violent ways and at all points of the day, there is a heavy exhaustion.

Something deep and vacuous settles on the landscape of my thoughts and actions like a snowfall. I’m left wiped clean in maybe the worst way.

And still, sunlight spills through the window, and I can look out onto the garden. Still, the sky is blue and almost clear for the first time in a long time. And still, even in this strange limbo, there are bursts of pain and bursts of joy.

Sunday - 11.05.23

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind, but I think I’m finally settling into a groove. I’ve made an intentional effort to make my room cozy and cute, and I’m finally starting to feel at home.

I go on walks, I jot things down. I see old friends and I make new ones. I drink tea and cook simple meals. I stumble into a steady rhythm.

The weather turns cold but things feel strangely warmer. I’ve finished my portfolio and I’m ready to get back into the swing of things.

The setup has been stressful and draining, but now it’s almost done.

I think I’ve managed to carve out a space for myself here, and while it’s been hard and sometimes lonely, I feel like I can finally be excited for what comes next.