Falling Apart.

I caught myself smiling today.

It was coming right from the bottom of my heart, and this radiant glow was surging through my body while a fervent tingling feeling left goosebumps on my skin.

It was overwhelming, and I had to take a minute to catch my breath and soak up the moment.

Sure. On paper, a smile doesn’t seem like an especially extraordinary thing.

But when you haven’t felt the need to truly smile in a while…

It’s a big deal. 

Here’s the thing:

I think my heart is broken.

Yes, someone pretty much sucker punched it without good cause (for the umpteenth time), but I think it might be broken because it only knows how to love at the highest level.

It’s either no love, or all the love. 0 to 100, but no in between.

When it comes to love, I fall hard and I fall fast – which might be good news for whoever’s lucky enough to be on the receiving end of it, but this scenario usually tends to cause me a lot of grief when things don’t go my way.

For example:

Just recently, I reconnected with someone from a past life. In a new city where I really had nothing to hold onto, I found familiarity and comfort in someone I used to know. In no time, he became someone who I fell in love with, but who ended up breaking my heart and leaving me feeling unstable in unfamiliar surroundings.

I was completely blind-sided by the whole thing.

And then, I lost myself.

When your heart only knows love at max volume and someone turns the love off, the silence is deafening. I was left stuck in this abyss of confusion, unsure of what to do with myself.

I questioned everything.

“If I have all this love to give and the person I want to give it to doesn’t want it – what’s the point? And if the one person who made me feel at home in a place where I have no roots planted isn’t there anymore, why live here at all?”

I felt empty in a city that made me feel like I was all alone. Without my best friends, my family or anything nearby that I felt truly inspired me, I felt lifeless.

I didn’t feel like I had any reason to smile.

Admittedly, I took a few days off work to mope in my apartment and be miserable. I took a week long escape to partially disconnect from my depressing reality. When I finally decided to face the harsh truth, my courage was quickly replaced with anxiety and I panicked hard.

It caused me to instantly feel like my life was about to quickly spiral out of control. I was scared, stressed and fragile. It was hard enough to find the energy to shower and dress like a decent human being, let alone smile about anything.

I fell apart from the inside.

Right now, some of my heart and soul still lie in pieces – but I’ve come to the realization that sometimes when life throws us unexpected and frustrating curve balls, falling apart is the best thing we can do for ourselves.

When we vent, get angry, cry until our tear ducts are empty and sink into our sadness – we allow our souls to breathe and release tension.

In the process of unraveling, we grow.

As we talk to people and spill our emotions, we’re reminding ourselves of who we are, what we want, and why we do and say and think the way we do.

As we dissolve into our hardships, old friends and new friends and people who are good for our spirit reveal themselves. They reawaken our passions, desires, and our purpose.

drumheller

Allowing ourselves to fall apart and feel everything is completely okay – as long as we make sure to get back up and find ourselves again.

It doesn’t happen right away and there might be a million little bits we have to collect and put back together, but we can’t stay broken. We’ve got to pick ourselves up and reconnect the pieces of ourselves, even if it’s just one small piece at a time.

And when our shattered pieces start to come back together and we start to feel a little bit more like ourselves again…

We can smile about it, right from the depths of our heart.

The Struggle is Real

I’m going to start by telling you that moving to a new city is exciting.

For the first month and a bit after I had moved and set up my things in my downtown Calgary apartment, I felt like I was on a mini vacation.

Everything around me was new and exciting. Being in a different city was refreshing and liberating. I could be whoever I wanted to be and there were so many new people to meet and places to explore.

It was an adventure and a big transition into a new life.

But, it’s been a few months now — and as exciting as being in a new city is…

I’m gonna’ be real with you:

It’s tough shit.

I’ve talked about my struggle with eating disorders. Those demons still live in my head, and body dysmorphia is something I face daily. Anxiety, on top of  these overwhelming feelings of missing home, my family, my closest friends – it’s part of every single day of my life.

Day in and day out, I worry about everything and overthink my entire life. I battle with this need to be ‘perfect’. I constantly wonder if I’m even doing anything right or if I’m quite possibly awful at “adulting”.

These feelings aren’t new to me. I’ve experienced all of these things for years – but I spent a lot of that time living in the comfort of a city I had grown up in, with familiar people around me that I wasn’t afraid to be myself around. It was a little easier to manage then.

Now…

I’m somewhere new. I’m still fighting all of these wars, while also trying to maintain this sense of cool and create this rad new life for myself.

The struggle is real.

Throw in a new job, a never-ending list of things to do (find a new doctor and dentist, switch my car insurance, switch my medical services plan, get a new drivers license, etc.), plus freeways and off ramps to memorize and navigate. I love meeting new people, but making new friends- good, solid friends that can temporarily take the place of the friends I left behind- is not easy. Don’t get me wrong — there are a lot of really fantastic people here who I’ve met or talked to online or heard about, but I’m just worn down from repeatedly sharing my story and making good impressions and trying to build my own life up in the meantime.

Oh, and of course – there’s that thing about how I already let someone wiggle their way into my precious little heart, only to have them break it.

Do I sound like I’m whining yet?

In all seriousness, I often feel like I’m rambling on about things that I should probably stop complaining about. Because as annoying and tiresome as all of this is when you put it all together, I’m generally okay.

Yes, life is hard – but how boring would it be if it was easy? If it always made perfect sense, and everything just fell into place without a challenge?

Think about it.

Yes, moving to a new city is scary. Starting from scratch, being the new person at your job, at your gym, in the neighbourhood – is intimidating. Leaving behind my friends and my family and a place that made me feel at home, stings my heart and soul.

I’ve stepped out of my safe zone. I’ve moved from a place of comfort to a place of vulnerability.

I have serious fears of the unknown, but I’m taking a risk.

Because, I truly believe that that’s what makes life interesting – when we mentally challenge ourselves, push boundaries, allow ourselves to feel, absorb and breathe new experiences; when we open ourselves up to other people and form new connections or let them teach us something about life, or ourselves, or shift our perspective.

None of it comes easy to me, but all of it gives me goosebumps in the best (and worst) way possible.

In the past 5 months I’ve had a lot of good days. I’ve also had bad days, and other days when I can’t stop crying or wishing I was home.

I won’t shy away from the truth: There have been plenty of times when I’ve gone straight home from work to just fall asleep – so I can forget about trying to keep all the pieces of my life together, while the world keeps spinning around me.

But in those same 5 months, I’ve learned a little more about who I am and who I want to be. I’ve grown, I’ve shared love, I’ve tried new things and opened my mind to all sorts of brand new information that’s made my life better and made me a little, tiny bit wiser.

Earlier this year when I made the big announcement that I was packing up my life and relocating to a city I’d only visited for a weekend once before, there were a lot of people who commented on how “brave” I was.  As I sit here and write this, I’m perplexed by that statement.

I don’t feel brave at all. I haven’t felt brave through this entire process. I especially don’t feel brave right now.

Current status: I’m nervous for what the future may or may not hold. I’m still wondering if I am enough – and if I’m capable of everything I want to commit to. I’m homesick, I’m exhausted, I want to book a vacation and not tell anyone where I’m going and throw away my cellphone.

I feel so many things right now.
Brave, is not one of them.

The struggle is very real.

But, as much as I sometimes want to step back into my comfort zone and keep myself safe – I know I’d be missing out on a lot of really cool, new experiences that will undoubtedly make me and my life even just a little bit better.

The lesson?

I’ll let Benedict Cumberbatch tell you first:

“The further you get away from yourself, the more challenging it is. Not to be in your comfort zone is great fun.”

In my own words:

It’s perfectly normal to feel unsure and wonder what might happen to your life if you step away from what you’re used to, but there’s a whole lot of stuff – including yourself – that you could be missing out on if you don’t.

And if you need a hand to hold or a hug when life feels really hard…

I got you.