And again, I’m starting anew. 

I figured that if this was going to be the fresh start of a crisply turned page, the first of the month is the perfect time to begin a new chapter.

But let me take a step back, and begin with an explanation (because everyone loves a story with a qualifier). I am not good at sharing a half-baked story. I’m one of those ‘never count your chickens pre-hatch’ kind of people. I am bizarrely open with my feelings and thoughts with almost every person I share a “hello, my name is..” with, but I hold goals and plans in the innermost pocket of my wool coat — tucked away from everyone but my four Ms (Momma, Mare, Megs, and Mitchell).

My mom, sister, soul sister, and boyfriend are the ones who hear the star-gazing dreams and one-day-I-would-like-to-bes. Other than that, I share as much as people ask. And, honestly, many people don’t really dive into the root of things — questioning enough to present an interest without holding the weight of the aftermath. 

But Megs and I started this blog as a place to not only share the depth of our feelings (the roots) or our aspirations (the reverie), but to also create a space for others to feel seen, heard, and respected — a community of shared learning and listening. And how can the two of us build this space if one of us only shares as much as people ask. 

So, here goes nothing! 

I used to start this story by sharing that I once lived in New York City, and that after the last election I became a statistic — an immigrant being asked to kindly go back to where she came from in less than 60 days. But three years (almost to the day) later, I have learned my story doesn’t start with this end.

I have always been drawn to storytelling, pulled towards words strung together in such a way to make people empathize with one another’s circumstances. For as long as I can remember, I wanted to use words as a way to share thoughts, programs, policies, and collective hope. I know that this next part of my story may cause eye rolls BUT stay with me.

I also fundamentally believe in the importance of government and politics. Whether we like it or not, it is those people in those rooms sitting at those tables who make the decisions for us. So, you can either fight it and complain about it, or you can pull up a chair. (Understanding that my whiteness and middle-classness and English-without-an-accentness and straightness and Christianess affords me the opportunity to have access to that chair to begin with. And also learning how those ‘ness’es give me the responsibility to find more chairs and, at times, give up my own for others.) 

Nearly three years ago, I decided my love of words, coupled with my determination to have a chair at that table, paired with a conversation with a woman who instantly filled me with hope over the soundtrack of a hockey game — was the start of an adventure I could not say no to. 

Somewhere on this blog or our Instagram page I wrote that I worked in communications for a firm that is too big to fail. This is a little true. But really, I worked for our government. And I will forever be grateful for the lessons learned — the affirming highs and the crushing lows. I am proud to have been a member of a team who doesn’t always get it right, but never stops trying to make our country a place where it doesn’t matter who you pray to, the language you speak, the colour of your skin, or whom you love, building the kind of country where young people’s voices are heard, the climate has a fighting chance, and where everyone has a fair shot at happy, safe, and secure.

I am also exhausted. No one tells you going in that you will give more of yourself — more time, more energy, just more — than you can begin to imagine. I would give it all again, and I would choose to leave again. 

Because, M is finally moving to Canada and I want to build a life that allows for an evening together without the blue hue of a work phone lighting the way. I want to build a life where I can read my book-club book within the designated time-frame. A life where I can go for a walk with my pup without choosing a trail that doesn’t lose service part way through. I want to cook (instead of ordering) dinner and eat at a table instead of infront of my computer screen. I want to find my way back to my yoga mat and be able to take myself to a spin class (when it is safe to do so). I want to volunteer my time for causes I care about. I want to take a bath and not bring my phone into the washroom. And I could go on, but I am positive I’ve lost many who have continued to read this long.

I guess my point is: I want to build a life that is full, harmonious, sustainable, and mine. 

The thing is, once I said this — once I quit my job to move to a new city with M after three years of long distance — so many people started sharing their stories of burnout, anxiety, and fatigue. 

These stories didn’t just come from political staffers. They weren’t industry specific or years-on-the-job contingent. The response from nearly every 20 or 30-something I shared even a snippet of my story with was:

“I wish I could do that. I am so tired.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this for.” 

“I wake up feeling stressed and go to bed exhausted.” 

“I haven’t slept through the night in months.” 

“I don’t remember the last time I had vacation without my work phone.” 

“How long have you felt that way? Everyone else always seems fine.” 

So, I’m doing what I never do — I’m sharing my half-baked story, sprinkled with goals, one-days, and maybes.

I am funemployed. I am anxious about finding a job, and content with slow days of reading, eating good food, and writing.

I am still exhausted, but I sleep through the night without waking up to check my work phone.

I am ecstatic to finally call M my roommate, but I can’t think about leaving my sister (my current roommate in Ottawa and always best friend).

I want to find a job that fulfills and thrills me in the same way that my old one did, while also allowing me time to reset.

I cannot wait to once again live in the same city as Megs, and there is no balancing emotion for that one!

So here goes nothing.

I’ll share my journey here, partially because I think and feel through writing and also because I don’t want anyone else to feel like everyone else seems fine.

I’m off to heat up some leftover pizza for lunch and to read my book!

Talk soon, 

L

Xo

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