On Turning 27
“How do you feel about turning twenty-seven?”
In one word, relieved. This past year built grit and tenacity in me beyond limits I thought I’d already exhausted. To finally turn the page feels like regeneration, an opportunity to begin anew.
My twenty-sixth year started with still tender heartbreak from my last relationship and the conclusion of my summer French program. One question loomed over me: with graduate school now done, what was I going to do with my life?
At the time, I thought I would move to Montréal. I tossed my resume out to various jobs, hoping something would land in my lap. Nothing did. The only job I heard back from pulled me back to my hometown. “You’re here for a reason,” said my longtime friends. After eight years away from home, I took that to mean a new chapter, a do-over in the place I thought I’d never return to.
Coming back to Winnipeg was good for a while, really. I fell in love with my gym, my work and a boy who made me want to stay. But my newly rebuilt life was too good to be real, and it came crashing down fast. In November, the truth began to unravel: each of the three men I cared for most—my ex-boyfriend, my ex-best friend, and my now ex-situationship—had massively broken my trust. In January, I found out that the love interest I’d moved home for had used his position of power to manipulate an affair out of me. Finding out he’d had a girlfriend from the moment he started pursuing me was nauseating. In response, I did what I always do - the brave thing - and came forward.
I spent five of the past twelve months fighting a sexual misconduct investigation, yearning for someone to hear me. I was heard, eventually, but only after my ex repeated the same harm to someone else. ,To this day, I remain frustrated that he was allowed to carry on his abusive pattern of behaviour as long as he did. Still, I stand proud with the women who spoke up, because I could not have held him accountable without them.
And then, my mom got cancer. My mother’s lymphoma transformed me from my mother’s daughter to my mother’s mother. That’s not to diminish my mom’s capability - she is stronger than I ever thought imaginable. It’s just to say that my time was no longer just mine anymore. Since May, there have been doctors to visit and side effects to monitor. There has been the emotional toll of feeling weak while having to be a pillar of strength for her. There has been constant worrying and uncertainty about what the future holds. And there has been holding my mom tight, pleading with the universe to give her more life.
I know why I moved here now. And it wasn’t to work my 9-5, or become a fitness instructor, or to date the boy who abused his power over me. It was to be here, with my mom, giving back for all the times she’s given so much to me. It is my life’s greatest honour. And still, to be a butterfly, trapped somewhere I no longer want to be, feels restricting. Winnipeg has become a cocoon wrapped too tightly around me. I am always on high alert, one degree removed from someone I don’t want to see, waiting to run into them. I’ve spent a lot of the past year crying and thinking about how I want to live somewhere, anywhere that isn’t here.
Twenty-six taught me a lot about betrayal. To lose the three men I care about most has been agonizing, and at the same time, I’m so proud of myself for the grit it has taken to hold my boundaries firmly. I still love each of them, but now my final act of love will be becoming the potential I promised each of them I would be. Each of these relationships will weave their way into the book I am writing; the characters just won’t be the heroes I always imagined they would be.
Twenty-six taught me that you cannot rely on any one person to love you, but you can always rely on someone to. I know this to be true in every one of the friendships that have carried me through this past year. When I put on a brave face for everyone and pretend I am a shiny bundle of joy holding it together, my friends remind me that it’s okay for me to not be okay. Friends I’ve known for mere months have let me cry about everything when it gets to be too much. I think of them, and how lucky I am to feel this close to them this soon - and how much, when that day comes, I will miss them when I move.
And when I think of twenty-six, I think of the mountains I’ve moved despite being crushed myself. I think of being named a top 30 writer in the country for a second time, starting multiple new career paths, throwing my first event, running my first half-marathon, and writing my debut memoir in a program sponsored by the world’s biggest publisher. I think of the 8 trips I’ve been on - the most I’ve ever done in one year - and how I travel so much because I centre novel experiences as a pillar of joy in my life. I think of the joy and silliness I bring to the spaces I occupy despite circumstances that would understandably warrant otherwise. I’ve sought out communities and been a villager to them as I’ve let them become a village for me. And mostly, I am grateful for this past year’s in between. One day I’ll move on to bigger things and cities, but right now, I have gyms, run clubs, coffee shops, and DJ collectives who love me. I focus on loving them right now, because if my mom’s cancer has taught me anything, it’s that the present moment is the only thing we are promised.
I’m thinking about twenty-seven, feeling both heartbroken and hopeful. Heartbroken, because twenty-six crushed me and I’m still picking myself up from the aftermath. There are reminders of my exes around every corner, and my mom is still sick, and I am stuck in a city I’ve outgrown without a ton of agency to change that. But I’m hopeful too - hopeful that I’ll make the most of my chapter here. Hopeful that this year I’ll run faster, throw more groundbreaking creative events and above all, finish a book. I’m hopeful, that when my agency returns to me, when I do get to choose where I go and what I want to do next, the right places, people and opportunities will flow to me.
How am I feeling about being twenty-seven?
Heartbroken. Hopeful. Excited. Relieved.
