BY: JASON RAYNER
Me in Berlin, not the most excited to go home.
If you’ve read this blog, follow me on Instagram, or have had a conversation with me in the last few months, you know that I recently spent a month in Paris, Barcelona, Munich, Prague, and Berlin. Being wildly neurotic and having a naturally uncanny ability to get ahead of myself, I spent a good portion of the time before I left worrying that I would not only have a terrible time but, that I would also come back without a Julia Roberts/Reese Witherspoon Eat Pray Wild Love mash-up transformation.
What happened was beyond anything I could have imagined. It was a month where I was able to focus on my own art and the art of others, expose myself to various cultures, and physically remove myself from many of the issues and struggles that had been plaguing me over the last year (you know stress about the future of my career, terrible body image, my deep rooted fear of commitment and dating, grief. Basically name a common issue, and I’ve probably got it!).
What I didn’t anticipate was the feeling of true, honest dread of coming back to Toronto. About halfway through the flight back home it suddenly sunk in that I was going to return back to a life that I had essentially repressed memory of. When we began our descent, I looked out the window and saw Toronto in all her glory. It was dark, and Toronto was bright and vibrant and just like Mimi talking about the ghost of Angel at the end of RENT, she looked good. However, as we got further to the ground, I felt a sharp sinking feeling that was far more vivid than the usual “oh how sad vacation is done, I don’t want to go back to work”. I felt like I was risking losing a piece of myself that had grown while I was there. It was as if I was on my way to my boyfriend’s house, knowing full well that I want to break up with him.
I had fallen out of love with Toronto.
While away, I felt myself changing. I found myself in a more earnest and sensitive mindframe. I would allow myself to take time to emotionally connect to what was around me - whether it be a painting at an art gallery, the surrounding architecture, or focusing on the song that I was listening to while exploring the city. I was taking time to be sentimental and to my surprise, it was nourishing. I felt like I was being a little bit more like something that I’ve heard discussed on an Oprah Super Soul podcast.
Allowing myself to be in touch with my emotional state, also allowed me to be more productive with my work. In the time that I was gone, I found myself worrying less about quantity and more about quality. The result, ironically enough was that once I let go, I wrote enough for a feature film worth of material. By allowing myself to connect, the words poured out, and it didn’t matter how many hours a day I spent writing it, or how many pages a day I wrote.
Most importantly, it affected my everyday life. I was more patient with others but mostly myself. I was gentler and kinder. I was open to experiences and people. The tension in my shoulders that I had carried from stressing myself out that I wasn’t enough had dropped. It was like I learned how to live life like my hero, Paddington Bear.
In Toronto, I find myself constantly overwhelmed. North American culture thrives on hustle, especially with a career in the arts. There are always emails to answer, there are always multiple projects to balance, and there is always (unfriendly) competition. If I’m not overwhelmed by my career, it’s usually pressures regarding how much money I should have, or what things someone my age should have either accomplished or should own (isn’t capitalism grand?), regardless if they’re things that I want.
Before I left I was becoming someone I didn’t entirely recognize. I was becoming jaded and petty to the point that I was shocked when someone called me positive - partly because if felt like an insult implying that I was naive. I would stress myself out to the point that I would have extreme emotional overreactions to things that didn’t really matter. I was spreading myself thin and I wasn’t happy. I was losing touch with things that I loved and myself. I wouldn’t allow myself the luxury to be vulnerable.
Of course, I’m also aware of the travel haze. Being away means exposure to only the best parts of a place - eating great food, going to the most beautiful attractions and galleries, and partying in all the best spots. Travelling is essentially a Madonna Greatest Hits package of a city - everything is a massive bop because track 10 from True Blue was cut (fun fact: there is no track 10 on True Blue - ha!). The last thing I want to be is the person who spends the next three months talking about how everything is better in Europe because I spent a month there and lived the best possible version of life.
Taking that into account, I’ve never felt more alive than I did when I was in Paris or Berlin. To me, Paris is the most romantic, beautiful, and electrifying city in the world. I feel confident declaring it my favourite place to visit but it doesn’t quite feel like a home. Berlin, on the other hand is a different story. It is such an exciting, wild, weird, and progressive place. Within minutes of walking through the train station I didn’t just feel connected, I felt settled.
So what do I do? I feel like the version of myself that touched down in Toronto is a more authentic one. I also don’t know how that version fits in with life in the city.
The reality is I live in Toronto. My career is establishing itself here, and the vast majority of the people I love - and I cannot overstate the importance of this - live here. I also know that being physically away from problems can allow for fresh insights but picking up and leaving won’t magically solve everything.
That being said, I don’t want to make any decisions until I’ve done everything I can to repair my relationship with the city.
Which is why I’ve made a pact with myself to give the city a year. Most of the things that I loved about my trip - the culture, the art, the food - are all things Toronto has. For the most part, a lot of my dissatisfaction with this city is my own fault. I’ve become complacent and stubborn and hesitate to go anywhere that is farther away than a 30 minute walk. I’ve somehow convinced myself that I prefer staying at home watching whatever streaming service currently has the most pop culture-worthy TV show instead of connecting with people in real life (sorry, liking someone’s social media post is not the same as a conversation). I’ve created a bubble that I never break out of at the expense of experiencing the city. The city has so much to offer, and I spend most of it sitting at home drinking wine (not to disrespect wine - although it seriously is overpriced here).
The goal is to actually live in this city. Just like if I was a tourist, I want to experience everything it has to offer. I’m going to say yes to things (like Shonda Rhimes told me to!), and not let distance, or HBO get in the way of it.
As for my perspective change? I think the most important thing I can do is apply those things I’ve learned while away to my life here. I can’t change the culture as a whole but I can change how I interact in that space. The noise and distraction will always be there, but it’s always been up to me when choosing to listen to it.
For the longest time, Toronto was one of my great loves. Born and raised here, being a Torontonian has been an essential part of my identity and it feels strange to doubt that. I don’t know where the future is going to take me entirely but I feel different and I feel like I’m on the verge of a new chapter. I just don’t know if the next chapter in my life involves living in Toronto. There’s a very good chance that chapter will happen in Europe. But I don’t want to break up with Toronto without giving them a fair shot.
