Day 6: Home is Where the Heart Is (Yes, I am using a cliché, because clichés are clichés for the simple reason that they are true enough to merit becoming overused)

Vancouver, in the kitchen I grew up in

An unnecessarily exorbitant sum of money, a suitcase full of regrets, and an exhausted, heavy heart later, I am back where I first started, but unexpectedly and perhaps oddly, I don’t feel like I’ve taken steps backwards or come around full circle.

This past week of traveling from place to place on airplanes, trains, and buses seemed to be an apt reflection of my mental and emotional journey. I’ve felt like I’ve been in limbo, straddling the fine line between being free and being lost due to having no real destination yet simultaneously having the ability to go anywhere I wished. Floating would be a good word to describe how I’ve been feeling, except… I was not being honest with myself. I refused to acknowledge the leash I felt squeezing my chest every moment I walked around Montreal and Toronto. The end of this leash (or noose?), I hated to say, led back to the hands of a person I loved, who tried so hard to provide a home for me. I had unwittingly made and found a home in Vancouver, but I was too embroiled in self-doubt and confined within a mental box of my own making to see it.

While I was busy staring dreamily out train and airplane windows this past week, I was also occupied with thoughts about the mantra in contemporary popular culture in which people say one should live  her life as selfishly as possible because that’s the only way to live the most authentic life. Most people in this generation have probably encountered one of these inspirational “live your best life” sayings at some time.Do not change for anyone. Do not let yourself become tied down. Be a free spirit. Always put yourself first. Be your own hero. Do what’s best for you. Give yourself the life you want—yes, yes, and yes to all those things. Being independent is important. Having dreams and aspirations for yourself is important and noble. Who can’t admire a person for daring to overcome their fear of change and the unknown to become better versions of themselves?

But how big—how far-reaching—can your happiness be if you keep it only within yourself?

There comes a point when being selfish creates a mirrored wall so high around your heart that you are unable to see the good things for what they are, because you are too busy focusing on yourself. There is no marked sign that will tell you this, but once you pass this point, you start taking life’s gifts for granted. If anything, these past two months leading up to my departure has shown me that life moves too quickly and unexpectedly to not enjoy the good things while they are still present. While life deigns me lucky enough to keep them.

The desire to include other people in these dreams we have for ourselves has become so taboo; people frown and shake their heads upon hearing that you want to wait for someone you love or want to change for them. But why is it less noble to see something special and worth investing in in a person outside of yourself? Isn’t it braver to take that risk, when people are such variables?

Perhaps the only reason we believe in selfish living these days is because we’re all just scared. Life happens at an expedited rate in this digital age, at one too fast for us to truly process or comprehend. Perhaps we seek safety in ourselves and in staying “independent”, but in doing so, we forget that being independent doesn’t necessarily mean being alone.

We encourage each other to be the person who leaves. We tell each other—and ourselves—to move on and to find the next best partner, destination, or job when we forget the search will never end if we keep convincing ourselves there is “a next best thing”. Yes, if the situation is toxic and hurtful, you should leave. If you have outgrown a person or a place, you should also leave. But I’m talking about leaving something good for the mere illusory prospect of finding something better, because the simple truth is that there will always be something “better”. The world is such a vast place filled with billions of people, and the possibilities are infinite. The real problem is that we are taught to never be content with what we have and to keep reaching for more. What we don’t realize is that at some point, if we never learn to be happy and thankful for our lucky stars, we will end up grasping at a dark sky.

The places you want to go to will be there a year, two years, five years from now (unless global warming fucks us all before then), but we can’t say the same for the people in our lives. Who’s to say a terrible accident won’t befall any one of us at any second (an incident involving the friend I was staying with in Toronto showed me that with frightening clarity), or the people we love won’t suddenly decide they don’t love us enough anymore to stay?

Me? Having gone on a wild goose chase across the country in search for fulfilment I thought I needed in the past few days have made me understand irrevocably that I was a fool to not choose the good thing when it dropped into my life. I was stupid for not being confident in my inner voice and letting other people convince me to find better. I should not have tried to find better. I should have tried to be better.

Six days may not sound like a long stretch of time. It’s not even a full week. But for me, it was 86 400 missed opportunities each day to be where I wanted to be, with whom I wanted to be with. It was 86 400 seconds of convincing myself to be in places not meant for me and doing something everyone else thought I should be doing.

One, two, three, four, five.

Six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Repeat throughout the day.

Each second another breath, another precious possibility to pursue what I wanted to be doing, and I wasted each one. I wasted all these opportunities to be true to myself because I was running away from my problems and bought into a bullshit, arbitrary golden rule for living. These past six days were 518 400 opportunities to lose someone I love and who loved me as well as the potential for the life I want to be living. Logistically, the chances of that are too good for me to feel comfortable.

Sitting here in my parents' house where I spent my last few days in Vancouver before my trip, I find it ironic that it is only with clarity at the end of my journey, not at the beginning when I was wrapped in uncertainty, that I feel truly afraid.