Tagged: life
I'm going back to therapy
- by Alyson Shane
I feel stupid even writing this or feeling like I need to say it out loud because I advocate for people to go to therapy
ALL
THE
TIME
but when it comes to my own wellbeing of course that's the thing I'll neglect to the point where I feel like I'm barely keeping it together.
Somehow I've slipped into a place where even the best of days
the biggest business wins
the smallest things that used to light up my world
don't register anymore.
I feel numb and disconnected from my own life and the
many
many
many reasons I have to feel good.
I run a successful company that pays people well and that allows me to live a great life.
I do work I enjoy and I get to do value-driven projects and partnerships that make a difference in my community.
I travel to places where I get to stuff my face with tasty food and have experiences that a lot of people never even come close to having.
I have a partner who loves me
friends who love me
family who loves me
and people in my extended social circle who care about me
but none of that makes a difference. Every day I wake up and wish I was still asleep
(except the nights where I have nightmares and wake up having a panic attack)
or that I wasn't even here
at all.
It's like I'm gaslighting myself about my own life and I feel so awful and stupid and like such a
burden
because of this.
Like why can't I get my shit together?
Why is everything so hard when it doesn't have to be?
Why can't I just stay fixed and stop needing to get someone else to help me glue the pieces of Me back together?
I feel like I let myself down
like I let the people I love down
and like I'm letting my business and my team down because I'm so
so
scared that talking about how hard things have been will impact my business somehow
even though it's the only place I've been able to keep "showing up" lately and tbh I think that's one of the only things keeping me on-track.
But I'm a writer
and writers gotta write, even when it's scary
(maybe especially when it's scary)
so here are the words that say
I Am Not Ok Right Now
but I'm working on it.
Brunch in the city
- by Alyson Shane
On a patio with fairy lights and plants hanging overhead
Nestled at a little table for two, just for me
Between a dad with tattoos on his arms and salt and pepper hair
(When did parents all start to look my age?)
talking to his son about zombie games
“You gotta get the sniper rifle, Dad! Otherwise you can’t take ‘em down in one shot”
and a couple debating a career change.
“I’d love to teach music with Bruce but I also want a job that pays
so I can, y’know
buy stuff.”
Clinking of spoons on the same ceramic coffee cups you find everywhere
A staple of every diner or slightly dive-y restaurant or bar.
The air smells like Clamato and Tabasco sauce and peameal bacon.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been alone for this long,
Away from my city, from my man
I forgot how easy it is to blend in and just
listen.
Absorb.
Be a bystander to other people’s lives.
Little universes playing out over plates of waffles and over-easy eggs.
Winnipeg Fringe 2023
- by Alyson Shane
Image via Tourism Winnipeg
One of my favourite things about summers in Winnipeg is the annual Fringe Festival. I love the theatre and the huge variety of independent productions that come through the city each year, so when I was offered a handful of media passes to check out show shows in exchange for reviews here on the blog, you know I jumped at the opportunity.
In true "Shaner summer" style, I'm barely in town this week and am only able to attend four actual days of the two-week long festival, so starting last night I launched into an intense few days of plays, writing, and hanging out in the beer garden.
What follows are the plays I've seen, my thoughts, and recommendations intended to help you make the most out of your Winnipeg Fringe experience:
Let's dive right in:
The DnD Improv Show
I briefly thought about writing a more in-depth review about this show, but if you know you know.
Just pick a night and go see it; you won’t be disappointed.
The Sidetrack Bandits
Presented by: The Sidetrack Bandits
I was actually supposed to see the opening show but had to work (ugh) so I was thrilled when we managed to find time on Thursday night to catch this hilarious sketch comedy show, especially considering that it turned out to be their third sold-out show this season.
This was actually my second time seeing this group perform (I saw them at last year’s Fringe) and to say that they stepped it up is an understatement. The amount of slapstick comedy was like something out of a Charlie Chaplin movie — there’s one scene in particular where two of the cast members were trying to “save” another cast member from drowning in a flash flood where they basically threw him around like a limp, flailing Gumby.
There were several stand-out skits, including one where a teacher is trying to interpret what her Gen X students are saying in their internet lingo that made me feel both very cool (for recognizing all the lingo they used) and very old (for the same reason), but the highlight of the show was a song sung from the perspective of a little boy who can’t wait to grow up.
Highlighting the naive optimism of a young kid who can’t wait to be in charge of his own life, it’s a stinging and ridiculous reflection of how maybe being a grown up isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
(Except for days when you bike around hopping from Fringe show to Fringe show. Days like that are what make being a grown-up so great.)
This show made me laugh so hard I started crying — make sure to get your tickets for the last few performances before they’re gone!
The Smallest Stupid Improv Show
Presented by: The Improv Company
Longtime Fringe goers probably recognize this title as a nod to the eponymous “Big Stupid Improv Show” and this performance by improv actor (and our pal) Stephen Sim is a unique, intimate, and (of course) hilarious nod to it.
“The Smallest Stupid Improv Show” is a solo improv show that highlights Stephen’s ability to not only think fast on his feet, but to do so with the same charm and wit that any of us who have seen him perform have come to expect.
Based only on audience suggestions, Stephen wove together a completely brand new, never-before-seen story that managed to connect scientists looking for asteroids, a military official visiting a high school gym, and a lonely, bored asteroid hurtling through space.
It’s truly a one-of-a-kind, hilarious show that showcases Stephen’s range and ability as an improv actor, and it’s all backed up by an improvised score by DJ Hunnicutt who was performing live for the first time since losing his sight, which made the performance extra-special.
Six Chick Flicks Or: A Legally Blonde Pretty Woman Dirty Dances On The Beaches While Writing a Notebook on The Titanic
Presented by: Kerry Ipema and TJ Dawe
Besides being a mouthful to say in its entirety, this play is a must-see for anyone who has a deep love of cheesy clicks but struggles to come to terms with how women are portrayed in some of the most iconic “chick flicks” of our age.
One of the things that impressed me the most about this show was the speed with which performers Kerry Ipema and KK Apple run through the plot and characters of each movie, all while providing a searing critique of things like logical inconsistencies (of course perm knowledge in Legally Blonde will always apply to all of Elle’s cases!) and regressive feminist policies (of course Baby is only “Baby” until she gets sexually freed and, by extension, grows up through the male gaze and influence).
An excellent observation punctuated throughout the play was the reference of the “Rose Effect”, which refers to Kate Winslet’s character in The Titanic, pointing out that her character was clearly written by a man because a) she’s totally fine posing nude for a complete stranger, and b) has an orgasm the very first time she has sex.
(All my ladies will be able to appreciate the total absurdity of that experience, I’m sure.)
Jokes aside, an especially poignant moment was when they talked in depth about the havoc that unsafe and illegal abortions wreck on women’s lives (à la “Dirty Dancing”, of course) which felt important and timely considering the recent overturn of the ruling by the U.S. Supreme Court.
As someone who has been fascinated with how movies and culture shape society’s expectations of what “being a woman” is like since I first read Anais Nïn as a teenager, this quick-witted and hilarious romp through some of the biggest cinematic influences of our time didn’t disappoint. Definitely don’t miss this one!
Broadway at The Blue Elephant
Presented by: 7 Ages Productions
As the title suggests: if you love musicals (which I do) then this is the show for you.
My mom actually chose this show as “our” Fringe play of the year, and I was over the moon at the chance to sit and experience some of Broadway's most poignant pieces about love.
Contrary to a big Broadway stage production, “Broadway at The Blue Elephant” is a concert presented as an intimate performance featuring some of the most iconic songs from hit musicals across the years. It’s a simple, stripped-down, heartfelt performance that emphasizes the lyrics and emotion of each song and reminds us as an audience that the power of the human body as an instrument is the most poignant part of a song.
From “I Dreamed a Dream”, to “Send in The Clowns”, to “Some Enchanted Evening” and more, musical theatre aficionados will appreciate the love that has clearly gone into these performances (and some might even make you tear up a little bit — Mom and I definitely both got a bit emotional!)
The vocals are impeccable, the performances are moving, and “Broadway at The Blue Elephant” knocks it out of the park.
Barry Potter and The Magic of Wizardry
Presented by: Dirk Darrow Investigations
Confession: this is the play I was most excited to see at this year’s Fringe. I’ve been obsessed with the film noir-style “Dirk Darrow” series over the years and was super excited to see that Tim Motley is back with a new character and a whole new slew of magic tricks.
Motley appears onstage as a middle-aged Barry Potter (who for some reason is still wearing his Hogwarts robe) who describes himself as a “down on his luck wizard who peaked at 17” who now tells stories to Muggle audiences using a blend of comedy, magic tricks, and mentalism.
Even though you don’t need to be a Potterhead to enjoy the show, those of us who grew up reading or watching the Harry Potter series will definitely enjoy the jokes and jabs made at the expense of the wizarding world.
Delivered with the same cheesy, smarmy attitude that made me fall in love with the Dirk Darrow series years ago, “Barry Potter and The Magic of Wizardry” is a hilarious and engaging show.
The Family Crow: A Murder Mystery
Presented by: The Pucking Fuppet Company
I try to check out at least one puppet show at every year’s Fringe, and I’m so glad we picked “The Family Crow” — after all, how could I say no to a play that describes itself as “Puppets! Puns! Murder!”?!
The other puppet shows we’ve seen have been more like puppet shows, but this one had a more Jim Henson, The Dark Crystal-esque feel. Between the strategic use of the lights, shadow, and an unbelievably articulate series of movements, this play draws you in and leaves you both intrigued and gasping for air (mostly because of the really silly puns).
Described as “a puppet show for grown ups”, the performance consists of ____ in a caw-stume (see what I did there?) essentially acting out a one-man performance while reciting the story of how a murder has been committed in the mansion of the Family Crow, and how now it’s up to Horatio P. Corvus, Sorter Outer of Murders to crack the case.
Jam-packed with more puns than I thought could possibly get stuffed into an hour-long show, this performance is a masterful example of puppeteering and an excellent example of bringing a unique and creative vision to life.
The Murky Place
Presented by: Subscatter Productions
I’ll be honest: while I love watching contemporary dance, I don’t always feel like I “get it” and that can sometimes take me out of the experience as an audience member because I get caught up trying to make sense of the performance instead of just enjoying it.
Fortunately, this wasn’t the case with “The Murky Place”, a series of three contemporary dance premieres from Oriah Wiersma, Alex Elliott, and my friend Kayla Jeanson.
Set to soundscapes crafted from recorded memories, violin, and Icelandic lullabies, the performances manage to draw you in and leave you almost breathless in some cases. This intimate pantomime of the human experience explored through three different perspectives was as moving as it was intriguing.
The show starts with Oriah Wiersma’s slow, intense build up set to recorded memories and interpreted with tense, staccato movements that leave you almost breathless.
Up next is Kayla Jeanson’s performance, set to lilting violin which builds into a personal, intimate, grasping of self that feels like she’s fighting against herself and left me nearly in tears.
Finally, the show ended with Alex Elliot’s performance. An interpretation of an Icelandic lullaby which she started developing during a residency in its country of origin, the performance works its way from an almost claustrophobic binding to a slow, acute series of movements that leave you on the edge of your seat.
“The Murky Place” was a beautiful and haunting exploration of self and is definitely a must-watch.
Field Zoology 101
Presented by: Shawn O’Hara
I went into this play totally blind (my brother picked it as our Fringe show to check out together) and while I got the sense that it would be a silly romp, I don’t think I was quite expecting the level of crass humour and hilarious, deadpan jokes that this performance delivered.
As an audience, we find ourselves in the classroom of Dr. Bradley Q. Gooseberry (Shawn O’Hara), who strides out in a tilley hat, cargo shorts, and a totally-not-fake moustache. The performance is essentially a John Cleese-style monologue amplified by drawings shown on an overhead projector, giving it a real “classroom” feel for us 90’s kids.
As a class we collectively become zoologists by taking a pledge together, and then we settle in to learn about burning nature-based questions like: what are the beauty secrets of peaCOCKS (his emphasis)? Or what’s the virility of a tiger?
While some of the jokes definitely fall into the cringey so-bad-they're-good category (a which I love) one of the best parts was the improv section where Prof. Gooseberry answers questions about animals written down by audience members in advance, showing off his impressive improv skills.
I’ve seen a lot of comedies at the Fringe over the years, and Zoology 101 was one of the best I’ve seen. I literally laughed until I cried.
So while you might not walk away with a deeper understanding of (most of) the animal kingdom from this play, you’ll definitely walk out with a smile.
A big thanks to the Winnipeg Fringe Festival for the opportunity to review some plays and get the most out of the Fringe experience this year!
We can live like Jack and Sally if we want
- by Alyson Shane
It's Friday and I'm sitting on the porch in the shade
slivers of sunlight warming my feet
it's finally hot again; real July weather
the dry smell of a Manitoba summer hanging in the air.
Judy is down the street, tending to her garden
perennial flowers and shrubs
unlike mine, which are mostly edible perennials
fiddleheads and rhubarb, blueberries and two types of raspberry
three asparagus plants
chives with flowers we put on our omelettes in the spring.
Around them we've planted bleeding hearts and
hens and chicks and foxglove
delphinium and silver mount and stonecrop
and milkweed to attract the monarchs
(which I saw today and tripped over my chair rushing down to get a snap before it flittered away like a burst of fiery orange light across the neighbour's yard.)
Growing up I dreamed of a space like this
a porch wide enough for glasses of wine and games of cribbage
and my laptop so I can work and write and watch the world go by.
As a girl I lived on an street that later became a thoroughfare for a new development but in the 90's was a single street with two back lanes and ditches and
huge, sprawling fields on either side
I would sit on the hill at the end of the dirt road or stand at the edge of the train tracks and
listen
watch
to the frogs and the crickets and the grasshoppers
(which I barely see here in the heart of the city)
sing cacophonous songs about the seasons.
Now I practically live out here in the summer, perched on a chair with a drink or a jug of water
with a book or my phone or sometimes with nothing at all
sitting alone and soaking up the sounds of the neighbourhood
my downtown oasis in a city fuelled by cars and wide roads and construction.
The hum of the bees, the the kids down the street.
It's not the same, but
perfect
in a different way.
A ghost just needs a home
- by Alyson Shane
it's mid-afternoon and I'm sitting on the couch with the window open
drinking oolong tea and
watching White House Plumbers
and working on some business stuff.
Last night we went to Art City's annual fundraiser and danced like crazy
spent time with great friends
caught up with acquaintances
and bought some art
then we came home, put on some music
and stayed awake until the sun came up.
It's been a long time since we've done anything like that.
This is the first Art City party since the Before Times
and it feels like all the old, cool stuff we used to do is firing
back up
all the familiar strangers coming out of the woodwork
dressed in the gaudiest,
most mismatched clothes they could find
(the theme of last night's party was CLASH DANCE)
to dance and laugh together in a big old
Winnipeg warehouse.
Yesterday we cleaned up the garage and Will came over for a bit
and had a beer with us while we swept and organized and threw stuff out.
After he left we BBQ'd steaks
made wedge salad with blue cheese dressing
and cracked a can of beans
(my favourite)
and ate it in the backyard while the sun went down.
Friday night we ate schnitzel, pickled cabbage, and potatoes
over beers and laughs with Koop and Christel
and after dinner when we were sitting in
the front yard around the fire pit
a neighbour from up the street came over
just to say hi.
It's been a nice weekend.
Just back where we belong
- by Alyson Shane
We've been back for just over a month and everything still feels surreal
like my reality is still back there
on the top of a canyon in Thailand
in the back of remorque on the back roads of Cambodia
drinking a latte on a balcony looking out over the noisy streets of Hanoi
wandering through the tiny, people-filled streets of Kyoto
so I walk through the big, airy rooms of my house
filled with familiar shapes and smells and
so, so much more space than I got used to while we were gone.
It's funny how quickly you accustom yourself to small spaces
crammed into tiny one-room hotels and one-bedroom apartments
bunk beds on a train, chairs on a shuttle bus
somehow I learned to sleep sitting up
(and that was a godsend).
In Vietnam we booked an overnight cruise to Ha Long Bay, and after shutting down the smallest karaoke party on the boat with Marvin and the Gang
(aka, a bunch nice old old men on a "guy's trip" who were the only other ones on the boat who wanted to sing karaoke)
I pulled back the curtains the next morning to see nothing but water and sweeping, massive limestone cliffs.
Before breakfast we wandered to the top of the boat and stood in the middle, watching the mountains loll by as the cruise headed back ashore.
I looked around and thought "I can't believe I'm here".
There were so many moments like that on the trip:
A look around
a slow, deliberate breath
a commitment to catching every dance of light
every detail
knowing you won't
knowing you can't possibly
but trying to anyway.
We were gone for almost three months, the longest I've been away without moving
(which, in itself, feels like a dream now)
and I settled into the routine of change; thrived in it, really
being away opened up something in me that I'd forgotten was there
and a lot of things changed.
I changed.
But I still caught myself, catching my breath.
And while we were gone for so long that I almost forgot what it's like to be here
I'm still in awe of this place we're building together
to wander around the rooms of my house
large but filled with love
and character
and memories
and catch myself catching my breath.
A post for Toulouse
- by Alyson Shane
who is sitting in my lap right now.
This morning I woke up and felt his lil furry back curled up against me and realized how much I'd missed him while we were gone.
I've had Toulouse
(or Tig, or
T., or
Little Baby)
for basically his entire life.
I got him for free off Kijiji after showing up to look at a different kitten who was being advertised for $5, but we got there the woman who was selling the two kittens told me that the kitten I wanted
(a cute red tabby; I've always wanted one)
was gone, but THIS LITTLE GUY, she gushed as she scooped a very small kitten up off the ground
was still waiting for someone to take him home. He was scrawny, loud, and though the raccoon-mask pattern on his face was cute.
He wasn't the cat I'd come for but I didn't want to be rude, so I accepted the kitten when she handed him to me
held him up to my chest
right away he climbed under my hair
and I knew he was mine.
Since then he's flopped all over
the internet
the house
and my heart.
Like me, my cat isn't afraid to ask
(demand?)
for attention, and has a big, big personality.
He isn't shy and loves to "huss around" rubbing, meowing, putting his hands on you to get your attention
or straight-up jumping into your lap when you're in the middle of something to meow in your face.
We've been through a lot together, T. and me.
At first we were part of a different family
with another man
and another cat
in another apartment
in a different part of town
in what almost feels like a dream at this point.
The part that feels real
the part I can go back to so easily that I can almost touch it
is the little family John, Toulouse, and I started building.
In bed in my old apartment on Spence St, reading "Reunion" with the window open
Toulouse burrowing into the pillow between us
and never sitting still.
Now almost a decade later I'm sitting in my dining room, writing this, his soft purring warming my legs
and I look down and see the white fur on his ears
that wasn't there before
and I think about the time we have left
how fast it's going, slipping through my fingers
how many days of tummy rubs, belly flops, head pats, snuggles and kisses
(the latter of which he just tolerates)
we've already had together. The small habits and patterns we've developed over the decade we've been together that define so many of my days and nights
and I feel guilty for how long I was away.
But still, I'm happy to be here
watching his slow, easy breathing
knowing that he feels safe with me
and I hope that makes him happy, too.
It's cloudy in Hoi An
- by Alyson Shane
(A nighttime scene from Hoi An, where we were a few days ago/where I wrote this post)
I’m sitting on the side of the road
on a small plastic chair
next to a small plastic table
small enough that adults wouldn’t sit in them in North America
I’m drinking a Larue beer
which is a local lager that has a tiger face on it
it’s the third beer I’ve had today.
We had two during our lunch after our tour of the My Son sanctuary
where we braved the rain to explore ruins of temples from the 7th to the 10th century
climbing the stones in our ponchos
posing for cheesy photos
peering down into craters
left over from the bombs
the Americans dropped when they were trying to wipe out the Viet Cong.
Staring up at the crumbling
ruined
state of centuries-old places of worship
witnessing the carnage war leaves behind.
After our tour guide took us to his "friend’s house"
(which might have been a bit of a racket but who cares
people gotta hustle)
and she cooked local food for us
banana flower salad
fried spring rolls
stir- fried chicken
glass noodles with veggies
steamed rice
morning glory stir- fried with garlic
and bananas for dessert.
We showed our guide pictures of
cars covered in snow
our frozen rivers with skaters and skiers
and the pop-up restaurant we build on the ice
and watched as his eyes widened
because he couldn’t imagine anywhere
being so cold.
But now we’re on the pier next to wooden boats decorated with
lanterns
and Christmas wreaths
hiding under umbrellas to avoid the drizzle
talking over the sound of street vendors
and inboard motors
and endless motorbikes
soaking up the soggy sounds of the old city.
Without you I'd be a stranger
- by Alyson Shane
I follow an Instagram account called We're Not Really Strangers
(which TIL is based on a card game of the same name)
and the other day they shared an IG Carousel with a series of reflective questions about 2022 that got me thinking about the year that's passed.
A lot happened. It was the most difficult year I've ever had.
There was a lot of bad, but also a lot of good.
Some years just really do be like that, I guess.
My first thought was to use these prompts in my art journal
(which I will)
but as I get older I'm more and more appreciative of this blog
and the memories
experiences
ups and downs
and little snippets into my life that I've shared here over the years.
So in the spirit of that feeling, here's to 2022:
Who are you glad you met this year?
Unlike most years, 2022 wasn't a big year for meeting new people.
Coming out of the pandemic I barely went to any networking events
and I didn't really develop relationships with brand new friends
but I deepened my relationships with people I admire and respect
like Florence, Christopher, and David
who are all people who push me to think outside my comfort zone
who ask smart, thoughtful questions
and help me expand the boundaries of my life
(and social circle)
in unique and interesting ways.
Who helped you a lot?
John, Jasmin, Luke, Tineke, Christopher, and Alex-lee were my rocks this year.
I lost a lot of people in 2022.
There's a photo in my dining room from our wedding
our arms around each other, smiling
and some days I can barely look at it
because several of those people aren't in my life anymore
and I lost them all within the same month.
The period between the end of January and start March 2022 was the lowest I've been in a long, long time.
Blizzards
COVID lockdowns
losing people I loved
and feeling trapped and isolated
left me in a dark emotional place
that I was only able to pull myself out of because I had people in my life who cared.
Each of these people went out of their way to check in on me
send me kind words
gave me space to talk about what I was going through.
2022 was more bearable, better, and healing because of them.
Who did you crush on?
Loop Daddy. I'll never get another vaccine or jab without thinking of VACCINATED ATTITUDE, and seeing him live in Toronto
(while wearing a trashy onesie
fishnets
a crimson robe with feather trim
and sneakers
with two of my favourite humans)
was one of the highlights of my year.
Who did you fall more in love with?
2022 taught me to fall more in love with myself
my life
and the people in it.
Loss cleaves you from everything you knew
about your life, about yourself
makes you stare into the mirror, bleary-eyed
asking
"Was I enough for them?"
"Did they know I thought they were enough for me?"
Did I
send the message
write the email
pick up the phone and cry into the receiver
"I love you and you are precious to me"
often enough that there was never a shadow of a doubt?
I'll never know and it gnaws at me, hurts me from the inside.
Because grief is like a weapon.
We can wound others with it
or we can turn it on ourselves
slash at our lives and leave ourselves alone.
And for a while
(longer than I'd like)
the losses that defined the start of this year caused me to
cut at my life
(metaphorically speaking)
but the people who love me rallied around me.
They'd say
"did you work in your art journal today?"
call me, send me voice memos
wrap me in their arms
allowing me to sink into the safety of their heartbeats
the softness of their chests
ask me
"how are you doing?
How's your heart?"
every day
for weeks on end.
These people helped me stitch myself up
(metaphorically speaking)
and over time, with care
I started to mend my heart.
Picking up pieces of myself
building a new version of me
based on the
cracks and fragments of what I went through
who I thought I was
who I was working to be.
The people who love me
helped me fall back in love with my life
to feel grateful for all I had
remind me that just because you break
doesn't mean you're broken.
So I built something new
not trying to hide from my pain
loss
mistakes
but embracing them
creating something new out of the gathered-up pieces
like kintsugi for my soul.
Who did you let go of?
More people than I'd have liked.
I lost Adrian, one of my best friends for a decade
and by extension Carlene, his partner and my friend
because he wouldn't accept that what someone had done had hurt me.
This person drove a wedge
caused a rift
in our social circle by accusing me of things that weren't true
wouldn't acknowledge my side, apologize for the hurt
or even be in the same room as me
and when I explained how hard this was
how I just wanted an apology
an acknowledgment of my feelings
so we could just move on
(not as friends, but for the sake of preserving our social circle)
Adrian
someone I loved like family
wouldn't give my feelings the time of day
and ripped a hole in me.
I also lost Colin, another good and longtime friend
to the same social rift
though, in a weird
(or maybe not-so-weird) way
his loss stings even more.
As things were falling apart
just after Connor died
I reached out.
I told him that Connor's death had made me realize that
time is short, and we need to cling to the people we love
I regretted that we hadn't seen each other in a long time due to the pandemic
and we would love to have him over.
He told me that sounded great and he would bring some cellar beers.
Then
a few days after my falling-out with Adrian
he texted me
and said he didn't want to be friends anymore.
He told me I "hadn't come over enough"
"hadn't accepted his offers to hang out"
(ignoring that we were in a pandemic
and that the hangs I'd declined were with that problematic person).
He said he wasn't interested in continuing our friendship.
Fuck my loss
fuck my grief
fuck my efforts to reconnect
fuck me, I guess.
I should have seen it coming. He was friends with the girl who started all of this.
But his decision to dump me and John, knowing we were grieving the loss of another close friend
was callous and mean and something I'll never forgive, even as I work to let go of a friendship that helped define a decade of my life.
The hardest person to let go of was Connor.
I met Connor when I was 20 and he and Amber
(one of my best friends and "chosen family")
were a safe space for me as I navigated through years of emotional baggage
partying to mask and attempt to avoid dealing with it.
They were people I loved dearly.
We'd been through so much together.
Then, in the fall of 2021, Amber and Connor moved across the street.
They took over our old rental and it felt like the start of a whole new era on our block.
I loved looking out the window to see Amber gardening, BBQing, and hanging out on the deck.
I looked forward to the end of a long workday when Connor would invite us over to hang out, decompress, and shoot the shit.
We were building a beautiful future together
I thought
never guessing what was coming
what lay on the horizon.
One January morning I saw Connor was shovelling after a big snowstorm
so I ran over with my parka over my PJs and said
"you know this is included in your rental fee, right?"
Connor put down the shovel, smiled at me, and said
"I know, but they won't do it the way I like"
which was such a Connor thing to say that I burst out laughing.
Just like I always seemed to when he was around.
I stayed across the street in the deadly -40C cold
balling my hands into fists to stay warm
Connor shifting from foot to foot to stay warm
as we talked about how life had been.
I told him about some challenges with my company
how much I was struggling lately
he told me about work
about feeling dejected but trying to make the best of it
and when I got too cold and needed to go back home, we hugged
we said we loved each other
and I said "I'm glad I came over, it's been so nice catching up with you"
and Connor said
"Alyson, seeing you has been the best part of my weekend."
I'll hang onto that memory forever.
Who did you miss?
Of all the shit that happened in 2022
of all the people I lost last year
I miss Connor more than anyone.
The last time I saw him was a fluke
it wasn't supposed to happen.
John and I were supposed to go to Falcon Lake for a week
just to get away from the house, the struggles, the stress
the low place I'd been in recently
but a blizzard made it too unsafe to drive on the highways so we had to cancel
and I was devastated.
I barely got out of bed for two days
I didn't shower
I didn't post on social media
I was embarrassed by how much my mental well-being was hingeing
on getting a fucking break from things.
But somehow, I forget how
Amber and Connor wound up coming over
we made popcorn and snacks and watched Connor's favourite movie
Interview With the Vampire
and after the movie ended we all stayed up too late
drinking wine and talking into the wee hours of the morning
until we got so tired and tipsy that we stopped making sense
(just like I'd done with Amber and Connor a million times before)
and it was what my soul needed
and I couldn't have loved them more.
That was on Saturday.
Thursday, he was gone.
It still doesn't feel real.
I still look across the street and expect him to be there, sitting on the deck.
I mourn the loss of my friend and the new chapter of our lives we were starting together.
I miss Connor every day and I don't know when that will stop.
Maybe it never will.
Maybe that's how grief works.
Maybe it'll get better.
But it hasn't so far.
Who did you spend the most time with?
Virtually, I spent the most time with Jasmin and Alex-lee.
I can't thank those two enough for their time
patience
support
and dedication to our relationships
especially during this last year.
My two best friends may live far from me
but they're always in my heart.
In person, I spent the most time with John, Amber, and Adam and Brittany.
I saw more of Amber because she lives across the street
but also because she went through a tremendous loss and needed to be
somewhere, anywhere else
so she spent a lot of time at our house
out camping with us
and going out to events to help get her mind off of things.
I'm grateful that she lives so close so I could be there like that for her.
I also spent more time with Adam and Brittany this year than any other year.
Part of me thinks that it's just the natural ebb of friendships
some seasons bring you closer together
part of me thinks that
it's because they know how many people we lost
who we loved
and wanted to make sure we still felt loved, too.
Whatever the reason, I'm grateful for it.
I love those two with all my heart.
I also spent more time with John than I did with anyone
and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Who did you become?
I've been sitting on this one for a while because this year really threw who I thought I was for a loop.
When people you love
who you thought knew you deeply
drop you when you need them most
what does that say about you?
(What does that say about them?)
But the experience of losing so many people in such a short period of time
made me take a step back and re-assess the person I thought I was
and the person I was trying to be.
So here it goes:
At the start of 2022 I became an angry person
someone who felt betrayed
and who let those dark feelings
lead how she felt towards others
I became mistrustful
resentful
lonely.
I isolated myself because
(for a long while)
I didn't think I deserved any better.
But I worked hard to pick myself back up
to throw myself back into my business
(which I love)
and the people in my life
who I love so, so much.
And I tried to let go of this
phantom
spectre of me that
this person who hurt me tried to turn me into
and who people I thought knew me
believed I'd become.
Over the course of 2022 I've worked to be
a more honest friend and partner
to express how I feel, when I feel it
to recognize my needs
and to ask others what they need from me
so I can be there for them.
I've done my best to be a better
daughter
sister
auntie
niece
to forgive and accept without compromising my boundaries
and my needs.
(Which isn't always easy
but isn't that family?)
2022 has been one of the hardest years of my life
I doubt it will be the hardest
and while that makes me
nervous
sad
anxious
afraid
it gives me cause to pause in my body
to breathe, let go
and be present
to look around a room
a party
a campsite
at the people I love
the humans who I've chosen
who choose me
who make every
day
experience
moment
worth holding onto.
Clinging to, even.
Because, if anything,
that's what 2022 taught me:
someday we might be strangers
we might lose each other
but right here, right now
we're together
and I'm grateful for that.
All the best in 2023, pals.
In my heart there's a Christmas tree farm
- by Alyson Shane
It's Saturday night and I'm home for once.
Our holiday party plans got cancelled so I'm at our dining room table with the lights low, sitting in silence broken by BJ's chatty MEOWS ringing up and down the stairs.
(I'm pretty sure he likes how they echo.)
I'm drinking tea but there's a bottle of wine in front of me that we were planning to take the party that I'm sure we'll crack sometime later tonight
probably when we dig into the dip I made
(also for the party)
and hopefully over a game or two of cribbage while records play in the background.
Earlier today John sat in the kitchen with me and helped "map out" all the cooking we're doing for Christmas Eve. My parents and brother are coming over next Saturday
which means I'm hosting my very first Christmas
and I'm cooking enough to feed an army.
Stuffing
Ham and cheese pinwheels
Cole slaw
Fattoush
Potato wedge "nachos"
Baked ricotta dip
Sausage rolls
Bourbon meatballs
Plates of cheese, meat and pickles
and grebbles (from my Grandma's recipe).
I'll have bacon and rye bread for bacon sandwiches in Christmas Morning
(my dad's tradition for as long as I can remember)
and he's bringing a kielbasa from his favourite North End butcher to fry up late at night when we're full of wine and scotch and beer.
Everyone is sleeping over and we'll be spending Christmas morning here, at our house.
Opening gifts and drinking cup after cup of coffee
(or tea in my mom's case)
and I'll be sitting in the living room in my pyjamas
soaking it up.
There was a long time where I didn't think I'd celebrate Christmas with my family again.
The hurt felt too deep
the pain felt too raw
and I'd cry at least once over Christmas because I missed the feeling of "home" that had always felt so palpable during this time of year.
And sure, this Christmas hasn't been without its drama
and there have been times when I've felt like
throwing in the towel
calling it all off
and going on without my family this Christmas
but I'm glad I didn't.
I'm grateful to have this time with them
making memories in our home
filling them to the brim with food
muddling through
miscommunications
and disagreements
and figuring things out
together.
