we're home, baby.
favourite moments from a november at home
Good morning my beautiful friends,
It’s Friday morning, and it’s officially our last day in Toronto. I’m up at 6 - which is a shock because usually I will find every excuse to sleep until 10. We (of course) have a mug of Starbucks Pike Roast, a litre of water (we have to hydrate), and a bowl of blueberries beside us.
I’m kind of loving these Thursday/Friday newsletters, mainly because I have really been making up for lost time with my friends and maximizing my Friday and Saturday evenings by drinking wine (we love friends with nice wine subscriptions) and singing our queen Lana’s Ride (but the YouTube version where she does her 10 minute monologue). We’re making it our mission to memorize it.
Last night, I was sitting on my couch with my best friend, drinking peppermint tea and eating baguette crisps from Trader Joe’s. We’re talking about the chaos of Rome and heartbreak and life and she looks at me and goes:
“You are not the same person who came back here in June. But in the best way possible. Whatever happened completely changed you.”
And I think we all have these moments of self-actualization where we realize we’ve changed - we react differently to things that would have bothered us, we’re more confident, we’re less scared, we’re running towards happiness instead of second-guessing if we deserve it or not.
We find ourselves getting bored with things we used to love, we’re outgrowing acquaintances, and saying no more and not feeling guilty about it. We’re directing our energy and time on the people who matter most to us, and on what makes us the happiest.
But isn’t it funny how it takes someone who knows you (arguably, sometimes better than you know yourself) for it to actually click. I thank her because I realize that I’ve actually noticed too.
And you know what I credit this change to? Going through a tornado of a romance in a country where you only know two other people, can’t speak the language, and start to melt away in the 45 degree heat because your landlord doesn’t believe in using the AC unit that had already been installed.
I’ll tell you something. I did a really great fucking job over the years by avoiding exactly what I feared the most: having someone turn your world upside down without your consent, just by being themselves. In other words: falling. in. love.
And you know what’s funny? I met up with my dad yesterday, who, for the first time, told me that I’ve handled my mom’s death well. But I realized it was because I actually let myself feel everything, and turned her death into something that now lives forever with me.
So, if I can take anything away from my 28 days of July tears, it is this:
I have always believed we can only run for so long. Run from who we are, run from what we’re hiding from, run from what we’re protecting ourselves from - until we’re found out.
Until the universe presents us with, arguably the hottest person we’ve ever seen, and we have no other choice but to let ourselves fall into the tattooed arms of our demise.
We really lived. And you know what else is interesting?
Nothing has ever made us weaker.
And it can be good, it can get good, and it can get like … really fucking good.
So, without further ado, I compiled a mini list of my favourite moments, memories, and mini-lessons from my really fucking good November back at home:
When me and my best friend were sitting on his couch in his apartment on a Saturday night, drinking rose petal tea, and our other friend stumbles in, drunk, and goes: “THE FAMILY IS BACK TOGETHER!”
Conversations where we talked about what home felt like, and how we looked at each other and realized home was probably there, in that moment. With the organic wine subscription and singing Lana’s Ride monologue and Britney’s Everytime.
I naturally have my hairdresser on my close friends list, so she knows everything about my life. Not only did she fix the orange in my hair (I never told anyone this - but I went to a salon in Rome where they fucked up my blonde) - we went caramel, and then she made me show everyone in the salon photos of my Italian boyfriends. I love getting my hair coloured because it is just 7 hours of pure fun.
Okay, I’m going to be super honest with you. I’ve talked about him before very briefly - back in May (read here) - but I’ve had this “almost” who’s lingered for, I want to say - almost 5 years. He’s morphed into a “friend” (we’re using that term loosely), but something inside me switched - and I have let go of holding on to the idea of someone for the sake of nostalgia and what could have been. And it doesn’t take away from our experience together, and I don’t regret any of it - but I realized I just outgrew living that same story.
I love expensive department stores. They’re so much fun. More often than not, I leave empty handed except for my peppermint tea and pockets full of perfume samples — I really do love beautiful things. But it’s Yorkville during the holidays that always does it for me. It’s the white lights on Bloor and how I now am always getting sucked in to Alo to buy a workout set that I will only use for walking on Bloor (or whatever the Australian equivalent will be) and back into Alo and Holt’s (again - or whatever the Australian equivalent will be) for more Byredo samples.
I’m pretty sure I flirt with every bartender I meet now, and I’m pretty sure I’m not mad about this.
Speaking of, I literally bawled my eyes out at my last writing group. I told my friend this and he goes: “OMG who made you cry” and I looked at him as if that was the most absurd question in the world and said, “Myself. I made myself cry.” My writing group is filled with the MOST amazing and self-reflective writers, and they help me more than they know. (PS. I’m going to start to open spots for our next group in late-Jan/early-Feb so stay tuned)
I’m thankful that everyone stopped telling me how to live my life, I really hated that so much.
Someone messaged me this month and said my words feel like home. Well, I feel at home when I talk to you. I really do.
Which leads me to my final point: everyone will love you if you just let yourself be yourself.
On today’s agenda? A bagel, getting our nails done, and sampling more rose perfume. Some things never change, and maybe, they’re not meant to.
I’ll leave you with my best friend’s parting words:
“Home will always be here for you when you get back.”
Ugh, I love you.
Emily
PS. I was told I need to promote myself more, so you can buy my first poetry collection, Failing Gracefully, HERE.
Ok, that’s all. Love you.