Okay, so I didn't lose my job, the contract ended, which was part of my plan because I was due back in Canada for a friend's wedding. But the rest of it is all true. All at once, the contract ended, the relationship ended, the housing situation ended (due to aforementioned relationship ending) and suddenly I felt confused about pretty much everything. Who was I, even? What was I doing with my life?
So, I made the trip from England to Canada. Attended the wedding. Went on a road trip with an old friend, driving 20 hours for 1.5 days in New Orleans and 1 day in Memphis. I had a blast, but I was in a daze. Breakups always suck, but when they coincide with the realization that you've lost a piece of yourself along the way, well, my guess is they suck a bit more.
By trade, I'm a journalist/photographer. By passion I'm a lot of things - a writer, a sports nut, a photographer, a do-gooder, a traveler... I have a lot of skills and even more passions, but I haven't been using any of them.
After the road trip, I went to Toronto and Ottawa and met some old friends from university. One in particular reminded me of all kinds of stuff I'd forgotten about myself. He said I was tough and funny and ambitious. We laughed at how I once slept in the campus bar for a week straight as part of a protest against it being closed. He said I was someone who tried as hard as she could at everything she did. I stayed up late that night, wondering when the last time was that I'd flexed those muscles.
I visited my university roommate Pam who works her Monday - Friday 9 - 5 government job. Pam said that she'd weighed up the options, and living a conventional life was what works best for her. She likes owning her condo and her car and her nice clothes. "My job is okay," she told me. "It isn't my ideal, but it gives me the life I want." After a pause she added "I don't know if you'd be happy like that. It isn't what I'd choose for you."
And then Jack Layton died. Suddenly, I felt a tiny flicker of...something. I can't define it. A well-loved politician's untimely passing shouldn't have had the effect on me that it did. (For those of you non-Canadaians or Canadians who live under rocks, Jack Layton was a Canadian politician who passed away of cancer a few weeks ago. He was pretty universally liked, even by his opposition, and the outpouring of grief and respect following his death was nothing short of spectacular. His final letter to Canadians ends with the quote "My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world.")
I remembered that at one point, I too thought it was possible to change the world.
I sent a facebook message to my friend Jon, telling him that I didn't understand why Mr. Layton's death had upset me so much, but I knew something needed to change in my own life. Jon responded by telling me that I should go visit him. Why not? Jon's a dude who lives his life full tilt, and I came away from the weekend more fired up than ever to figure out what it is that I'm meant to be doing, and to get doing it. Jon changes the world with his writing, and in return his writing seems to change him. I want that.
As I was leaving he said that he's excited for me, and he can't wait to see what I'll do next. Me neither.
These past couple months have been like a trip into a different universe. I started with a flat, a boyfriend, a job and a general sense of security. But I was just drifting along, not making big plans, not excited, not shaking anything up. Well, after this unexpected cross-North America tour, I head back to London (England) next week, and I'm so frigging fired up that I could levitate. I guess that means the next step is finding where to put that energy!
Here goes...
Olivia Chow, widow of Jack Layton, reading one of the thousands of cards left for him in Ottawa following his death.
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