I don’t know about you, but around six months ago, my plans for the summer changed completely.
Pre-COVID, I had planned on spending some time back home with my family- but the original plan was to only go back for a couple of weeks.
Instead, I spent roughly three months back in my hometown of Kelowna, BC. While it was an adjustment switching from dorm life to living with my parents again (especially considering I’m an only child), all while adapting to online classes with a three-hour time difference, it was a relief to be home. I was already stressed enough trying to figure out what my next steps would be, let alone handle the emotional turmoil that came with coping and processing the effects of a global pandemic.
I eventually adjusted to living at home again. I was thankful for routine and relative normalcy. I could eventually see my friends again and we celebrated the province’s reopening with socially distanced drinks on patios and days spent tanning while catching up on the beach.
As more of my life went back to normal, I began to miss the life I had created for myself at school. I missed living in the city and my apartment. While I considered moving home for the fall semester, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being disconnected from my regular I had created in Toronto.
I felt incredibly disconnected from Ryerson, and from Toronto for that matter- as if the entire school year was a lucid dream and it never actually happened. I knew that I could manage working from home for a semester or two, but I couldn’t stop wondering what it would be like when I did end up going back. It would be nearly impossible to fully maintain the few close relationships I had already formed– I already struggled with adjustment as is and I was concerned that [staying] would only make this worse.
And then there was the fact that I missed my independence. I had already lived away from home for two years at that point, so I was used to making my own choices and setting my own routine. Not to mention that my parents had moved out of my childhood home the summer before, and with my grandma temporarily living with us, there were four adults trying to peacefully coexist in a small two-bedroom apartment. Not to mention, we now lived in a different neighbourhood than all my friends, and with a lack of reliable transit, I feared that I would be even more isolated (and no, even though I am 20 years old I do not have my driver’s license).
So what did I do?
Well, I admittedly wallowed in self-pity for the less-than-ideal situation I was in. Then I decided that this was the time to pick myself up and start putting my life back together.
I had enrolled for an online course over the summer with a friend I had made in j-school, and I began searching for a summer job in Toronto. Once I was finally employed, my parents and I began creating a plan for how I could safely return to my old life.
The first thing my parents especially worried about was how I would be getting back. There were limited flights back to Toronto, and many went through urban hubs like Montreal that were in the midst of a terrible outbreak in cases. Although I knew I was capable of taking the precautions needed to protect myself, my already worried parents weren’t so sure. Eventually, it was decided I would fly through Vancouver- somewhere with fewer incoming international flights and fewer cases overall.
Then there was my living situation. I had lived in residence the year before and luckily my lease would take me to the end of the summer. But of course, what would happen if I was exposed to the virus and had to self-isolate? I had nobody to care for me- what if I fell ill and was completely alone? What if my roommate came into contact with or contracted the virus? What if I gave it to him? On top of that, I knew I would be moving into a new suite at the end of the summer with a new roommate that I had never met before. I had no idea who was included in her social bubble or what precautions she was taking to protect herself and, by proxy, me.
Finally, there was the question that had been looming in the back of my mind the entire time- would I feel isolated living so far from my friends and family? This was the first summer I lived away from home, and these unique circumstances made the transition that much more difficult. Not to mention that my social base was much smaller than the one I had established for years back home. In these uncertain times, I was even more uncertain as to whether I should stay within my comfort zone, knowing I had the support of my loved ones, or try to face this on my own.
The entire flight back to Toronto, I was filled with dread. I was so worried that I had made the wrong decision that I felt physically ill. I continuously kept breaking into silent tears as I once again mourned the sense of normalcy I knew I was losing, just as I had three months earlier when I went home in the first place.
Ultimately, I am so happy I made the decision to make the move back. Living on my own in a scenario such as this has forced me to grow up faster than I possibly could have imagined. I no longer feel the sense of disconnect I so strongly feared a few months ago, and actually feel closer to my friends in Toronto, since we can now say that we have been through this together. While obviously the choice I made may not be the right choice for everybody, I am ultimately grateful that I did not let my fears interfere with my life. I now feel that if I could completely reinvent my life in the midst of a global pandemic, I can take on anything life throws at me.