It’s all got to be done with at some point. Sooner or later, we all got to say goodbye. I’m honestly not sure of how six months could have flown by just like that. The Whistler dream; I guess its a short but loud bang, an epic firework bursting in your life with bright colours, explosive noise, and so much excitement that at times you are not even sure if this is real life.
But, it can’t last forever. Maybe for some it can, except I am the kind of person who hates it when it gets quiet, when the mundane things become reality. I’m a strange creature, if I must admit. I purposefully sabotage my own life, uplift the rug from underneath my feet so I’ll fall and have the breath knocked right out of me. Is it all because I’m a masochist and enjoy the pain of falling apart? Or is it because I know that deep down inside that I can grow and strive to bigger and greater things in life? Who knows? There’s a good chance I’ll never find out, and I think I’m alright with that.
I’m a mess, that’s something I’ve been trying to deny for quite some time now. I drink a little more than recommended, and when I do, I always make the wrong decisions. It’s a way for me to escape, to take a break from real life for a while. The sad thing I always have to deal with is that it never lasts long, so I have to drink more and more to keep forgetting, to stay on “vacation”.
Six months ago, my best friend, Emmy, had passed away. I was in Vancouver when I had found out, staying at the Cambie Hostel in Gastown. Suddenly, the things in life didn’t make sense anymore, my mental state didn’t want to cooperate, my emotions seemed to have disappeared, hid deep inside to the darkest parts of my soul to never be seen again. I was lost in a place I knew so well. My life wasn’t my own anymore and I had to find someway to make it right. I had no idea I was falling apart, I thought I was fine, but I wasn’t. My heart felt ripped apart, my lungs were to the point of collapsing. I didn’t know what else to do but drink, to keep indulging in all the things that were drowning me, that were slowly killing me. Next thing I knew, my life was all about the whiskey, the cigarettes, staying up late, too afraid to sleep, and consuming whatever drug came my way. I let the horrible sickness take control because it helped me not to feel. I kept at it until there was nothing left in me, just a cold, empty space in my chest. And strangely enough, that was when I “woke up”. The city was too loud, and the people were all staring at me, like they knew I was broken. There was only one thing I could do, and that was to flee Vancouver and go somewhere that was new, that was a fresh start and that had no idea about my life and the horrible toxic slime that was in me.
This is what led me to Whistler, the idea of a blank slate, of being able to pretend that I was alright and happy with the life I have. I had some friends living there, and I knew that if I saw them, I would be alright. I sought out my friend, Dan. I had met him a few months previous in Toronto in one of the hostels, and spent sometime with him in Montreal. I knew he would never ask personal questions, just be happy that I showed up. And so I did. Suddenly, it was the Whistler dream staring at me right in the face. It’s such a fast paced town, considering that it’s not that big (with all the people flooding in and out). It was a winter wonderland, and it was bringing me back to reality. Things kept happening the longer I stayed. I met beautiful people to call my “Whistler Family”, and I had found a sweet deal where I didn’t have to pay for accommodation. It was almost as if all of this was waiting for me, carrying patience, because I was a wandering soul, constantly going this way and that.
I had hoped that I would be able to sober up, and deal with things like an adult, but I that didn’t turn out so well. Instead, I had found people who drank as much as I did, who craved it just as much as me. There was drugs, alcohol, late nights, and even more bad decisions than I anticipated. But, nothing stops in Whistler, it all kept going round and round until my head spun. I kept meeting new and exciting people, I had learned how to snowboard (to some extent), and I found another job working on the mountain. Everything was in motion, people had left, my snowboarding was put on hold due to many bad hangovers, work kept me busy until my bones felt like they were about to fall apart. I didn’t have a moment to breathe, to catch my breath, to collect my bearings. It was all like a rollercoaster ride, screaming my head off, and no one cared.
A lot of shitty and horrible things have happened to me in the past six months, but I can say the same to that an equal amount of wondrous and amazing things have happened as well. There have been days where I couldn’t get out of bed, due to a crippling sadness. But, there have also been days where I have danced underneath the stars because of pure bliss, because I felt alive, I had adrenaline coursing through my veins. I laughed like a maniac and hugged complete strangers, and celebrated all the little things that had come into my life. I had fallen in love, not caring that the only outcome would be me having my heart ripped out. I have seen a lot of beautiful things, and met amazing people, and cried shamelessly at the sad and unfortunate things that happen in life. To say the least, it never got boring. I was on a six month circus ride that turned my whole world upside down, and I don’t regret a damn thing.