My dad died on Valentine’s Day from a cancer in his brain that he fought for a year and a half. I’ll talk about that more one day, but what I want to say now comes from the buildup and the fallout. What I want to say is not about the suffering and turmoil that I watched my dad and my family experience for that year and a half, or the milestones we hit every day that I never mentioned, like the last day he had ice cream or went outside. I want to talk about him and I will. But today, I want to talk about the aftermath. People don’t know what to say about death and dying. They tell you they’re sorry and they could never do what you’re doing, they tell you how strong you are and graceful you’re being, admire how you’re “back to work” or “still able to have fun”. Grievers are told time and time again, nobody knows what the right thing to say is. And we have grace. Giggle it off and nod our heads, tell them thank you and it’s okay. Because it is okay. They aren’t doing anything wrong t...
I always knew I needed to get out of my hometown. It’s not that I didn’t love it, or the people, but I was outgrowing it. And I could feel the box getting tighter as I got bigger.
So when I was seventeen, I left. I moved to a city eight times it’s size, lived with 3 strangers (my now best friends) and changed my entire life. It was amazing.
But now it’s worn off.
And suddenly...I feel claustrophobic in the space. Is it possible I outgrew this place too? I mean, I could go bigger: Vancouver, Toronto, New York maybe? But would I outgrow that too?
As I started to feel the new wearing off, I immediately looked for a new place to go. Now I’m here, in this new place, and it still doesn’t feel right. I feel in the way of other people’s lives, and more importantly, not on the path of my own.
I do this. I bounce around, from place to place, person to person, hobby to hobby, and after a period of time, I get this overwhelming urge to change things. And so I leave people behind. I leave places I thought I loved. I bury memories I thought I’d cherish forever. I put away things I used to care about.
I specifically remember realizing this about myself. I used to decorate my room with all sorts of rainbow/sparkly/pink things and lights and colours and rugs and everything I loved. And I was laying in bed one evening, and suddenly I tore it all down. I just took it all off the walls, changed the blankets to a simple white, rolled up the rugs, and put everything in a bucket under the stairs. It didn’t make me feel better but it made me feel different.
And then I understood.
I get tired of feeling/seeing/being a part of the same thing for any length of time. As much as I like change, I’m seeing a pattern here. It doesn’t make me feel better to go and do these things, but it makes me feel something new. Like I’ve been searching for this place or this person or this feeling for so long and I don’t know what it is but I know I have to find it.
And there’s a feeling that comes with being the new person in a place. People don’t know your story, they don’t know rumours about you, or who your family is. They don’t know you: and I live for the rush of that, too.
And so, when the new wears off for them, and I settle into the Haleigh I always was, I feel like I need to leave and start over again. People my age are dreaming of their lover, their wedding, a beautiful house and babies and I am dreaming of running far and fast away from everything I’ve ever known.
I’ve had people reach out and grab my arms to try and stop me, keep me with them, and for a second it almost feels right; but something is pulling me and I have to go find what it is. Maybe I’ll come back some day.
And when I’m done being new, and it wears off, I get scared that people won’t like me anymore and so I leave.
So I’ll keep running. Farther from what I knew, closer to what I’m searching for. Whatever it is. I’ll keep pretending like these people are replaceable and I’ll have new memories to make. I’ll run from everything I felt comfortable doing and I’ll pretend that I’m not scared mostly to death.
I know it’s not what I should do. I should give people a chance and try to slow down or even stop running. To stay in one place. But I must keep going until I have the: this must be the place moment. And I thought I had it, lots of times.
So, I guess, if I’m gonna act like this, I need to make the best of it. I need to screw things up sometimes. I need to allow myself to do things wrong. To let go of people who don’t care about me. To let go of people I don’t care about.
At the end of the day, nobody’s opinion on my life & my choices matters besides my own. What I think it comes down to is not taking anything or any moment for granted. These “new” moments wear off so quickly that, before we know it, it’s already gotten old. And that goes for people too.
And maybe things are just as good when the new wears off. Maybe things will be okay if I could stop running away from them. I don’t know if I’ll ever know. I’m going to find my place, wherever that is.
BEFORE YOU GO
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