on the heels of my 32nd birthday
It is Sunday, and it is 6 days before my 32nd birthday. I’m wrapped up in my white duvet, it’s almost 11 AM, and there’s a freshly brewed coffee on the table beside me.
My bedroom smells like fresh laundry and dried lavender. There’s a book I’ve been meaning to read, but for now, it’s a holder for 2 heart-opening essential oils, 1 lip peptide treatment, 1 all-over body oil, and 5 lip balms.
Gwen Stefani’s Cool is playing as I type this to you. It’s healing, reminds me of forgiveness, and the video is just - an Oscar award winning masterpiece. But I still stand by the fact that you will never, ever, ever catch me in a villa on Lake Como with my ex boyfriend and his new girlfriend.
Can I tell you something?
I’ve never really had a corporate job past the age of 22. I remember spending some university summers working in my uncle’s law firm, or getting a summer student position at government offices. And I liked getting dressed up in the morning, getting my Starbucks, swivelling on those black office chairs and being filled in on office gossip. But staring at a blank computer screen or shuffling around file folders made me…I don’t know. Feel bleak? I remember thinking - this is what I’m supposed to do. So I should be happy. But at 22, maybe I thought being happy was just being grateful that I had my life, and not someone else’s.
Being with my mom while she was sick - was the most fulfilling job I will ever have. I graduated university, my friends started their careers, and I stayed home. I’d make espresso for us in the morning, watch the Marilyn Dennis show with her in the afternoon, then I’d busy myself while she slept. We were fortunate enough to have a nurse come in, almost daily, so my “role” felt more emotional. And she made it easy for me. And I know you’re reading this right now - but you did, Mom. I think you just wanted a friend, you needed a friend that would read you celebrity gossip if your eyes were too tired. You never made me cook. You never made me clean, or do anything, other than sit next to you and hold your hand when the pain was too much. But even then, you would smile. You’d give me money to go out with my friends and to get my nails done.
And now, looking back - it wasn’t a job, it wasn’t a role.
It was simply being, and experiencing what it meant to be human. What it meant to love, what it meant to live, what it meant to hold on to something as tightly as possible. What it meant to make sense of emotional pain, to wonder why bad things happen to good people, what it meant to say goodbye, what it meant to practice dying. What it meant to wonder - where does it all go? Who will we all be after? Who are we now?
I don’t, and won’t ever believe in the “shoulds” and the timelines that society has placed on us. The prescription for happiness looks a lot like a glamorization of being tired.
It wasn’t difficult coming back to the city in October. But sometimes, it does feel difficult existing in a lens that doesn’t look comfortable to a North American city. I love my slow mornings, my first coffee, then my second coffee. I love the neighbourhood strolls and chats I have with every single shop owner that I come across. My solo aperitivo is now my solo happy hour - but I’ll still call it aperitivo, anyway. I’d rather stay in on a Friday and Saturday, and write and paint in solitude - than go to a crowded bar.
I don’t know if I want children, I don’t know if marriage is in the cards for me. And frankly, I don’t really care.
And here’s what I believe. You might regret spending 8 hours at your partner’s family dinner table, having them dissect you, while subtly being reminded of how lucky you are to have him. But you won’t ever regret buying your favourite gluten free pasta with a gluten free rosé sauce (the Italians are shaking), lighting a candle on a Friday night, listening to Carly Rae, and water colouring roses.
If I was to get into a relationship, it would be for me. There’s a quote I saw - about how people think healing is building walls and protecting yourself - but in order to rewire your nervous system - you have to teach it new ways to survive. Meaning - responding to situations in new and healthier ways. Confronting the beast, instead of running from it. Conflict resolution.
My friend
said - “MFB hates himself - which is why he can’t commit to anything. You’re aware of your flaws. And you’re open about them.”I don’t believe in victimizing or villianizing - but in my writing, I will tell the truth. Even if it takes me a long time to admit it. It took me two years to tell the audience that PN’s girlfriend owned the bar in Rome (lol). It took me…a while to fully admit to myself and everyone else that I was, in fact, a bit traumatized after the Plan B experience with OFM. And it also took me some time to admit that I was open to exploring something more with MFB. Not a forever thing, but maybe just a … small thing. A moment or two or four or six.
Here’s the thing. My heart will remain open. It always does. But most importantly, my heart remains open for myself. I don’t feel the need to be anything, to go anywhere, to aspire to have more or be something greater than I already am right now. In bed with a bun on her head and glasses on.
So - with it being a few days before my 32nd birthday - I want to leave us with some words.
I want us to remember how important it is to live, and not just exist. To not feel the need to box ourselves into a “should” - based on whatever baseless rule society created in order to keep us small and non-threatening.
Remember your agency and autonomy, remember the power of free will. Remember your creativity, your capacity to love, and what makes you different from everyone else. Remember to express your joy and express your pain, remember how it’s impossible to feel one without the other.
Sleep in on a Sunday, on a Tuesday, on a random Thursday. Get day drunk on a random patio, and call your psychic while doing so. Believe in magic. Call a guy the wrong name in bed. It’s good for their ego. Fill your apartment with dried flowers, name each bouquet after a fictional character you idolize. Do a face mask everyday. Tell yourself how beautiful you are, and remember how beautiful life is. What’s meant for you will never belong to anyone else. And what’s meant for you is already yours.
That’s really it.
It’s really all so simple, isn’t it?
I love you. And I really, really, really love the woman I’ve become.
Never stop choosing you.
Emily