In mid-2020, I had just lost both my grandparents within a month of each other. There was a constant, unbearable tension in my chest that felt like a trapped scream. We were then knee-deep in a pandemic, with no end in sight. I clung to the news, watching every day as, one by one, businesses closed, case numbers rose and panic swelled.
Somehow, in the midst of all that my family and I had been through, one of the things that made me the most upset was not being able to ride the Montreal metro. The subway, or metro, as we call it in my hometown, was the vehicle to all my freedoms away from home. It was the vessel that brought me to my university every morning, it was my ability to stay out late on weeknights after class with friends, or to just play my music on full-blast through my earphones and be swallowed up by the wind tunnel that blew through the metro cars. Usually, when I tell people about my feelings for public transit, they give me a sideways look or wonder genuinely how I could’ve ever enjoyed being on a bus or subway with people pressed up around me, swaying violently as the driver navigated a bustling city. But the truth is, the metro was my time alone, to sit quietly and contemplate, people-watch, or close my eyes for a little while. It was me, getting older, being self-reliant, getting lost, and finding my own way. It was invigorating to ride the metro every day, to sometimes catch a glimpse of my reflection in the glass doors, and dream briefly about the person I was becoming.
So, in June of 2020, just shy of my 24th birthday, I realized I needed to do something big. I had never been away from home alone before for more than two weeks. I had lived for a long time in the shadow of other people, never having truly made decisions solely for myself. I’d also tried to please everyone, to do the things that made the most sense to everyone else, to take the advice I was told would not fail me. Something about that was shameful to me, that I had never truly made a decision alone. And then I began to wonder: if something as mundane as riding the metro every day made me happy, then what would happen if I took a gigantic leap of faith? What would happen if I applied to a university in another province? At the time, it still seemed like a fairly safe bet, a well-calculated risk. Because I had done college and a degree before this one, I had several transfer credits that allowed my degree to be completed in two years instead of four. A large part of me recoiled from the idea and dwelled on the possibility of failing and having to do the walk of shame back home. But I told myself I was killing two birds with one stone: studying something I was passionate about and experiencing something solely for myself, even if it scared the hell out of me.
Since arriving in Toronto and settling into my new place– a cozy corner bedroom I’m leasing in a house full of other young people working and studying– I have been devising a plan for how to make the most of my time here.
Firstly, I have thrown myself head-first into my schoolwork. I figured since that’s what I came here for, it’s what warrants my undivided attention. My grades definitely suffered during my preparation for moving here, so I have some catching up to do. I am also in the process of applying to various internships and jobs in the GTA that pertain to my degree, something that may be able to be done for course credits, or just for the experience. I’m also starting to keep a schedule for myself to visit one Toronto attraction every week. A few that I have on my list are the Gooderham building, Casa Loma, the Distillery District, and High Park in the spring. I’m also determined to find a good place to thrift, a quaint place to study and drink coffee, and a plant nursery with abundant selection. I think this’ll be a great way to become an expert in navigating a new city.
Something I want to fix before graduating is this notion I seem to have about needing other people to do stuff with you. Even though I’ll hopefully see a lot more of the friends I’ve made from my program, I’m also planning on being independent with my upcoming adventures in Toronto. I’m an introvert at heart, and I’ve found that you can learn a lot about yourself that way. At the end of the day, you can and should be your best company. Friends, of course, are a great bonus, and you can learn significant details about a city from someone who’s lived there their whole life.
I’m not going to lie. This whole transition has been pretty difficult so far, and given that my classes only recently started back in-person, I haven’t actually been in Toronto for very long. I have a long way to go in learning this city, settling in, and getting more comfortable using the common amenities in my place. Despite not being alone in the place I’m renting, it’s definitely not the same as living close to your parents or living with your partner. I’m missing my family and my boyfriend terribly, and I’ve been video-chatting and talking to them as much as possible.
As I sit now in the Toronto subway, two stops away from mine, I look around at the other passengers quietly making their way home after a long day. The afternoon clouds are changing colors, and the sun bathes the inside of the traincar in orange light. Commuting still brings me such a sense of calm, and I’m finally beginning to feel like I belong here. I remind myself that this step outside of my comfort zone brings me that much closer to achieving freedom and success on my own terms. I’m so blessed to have loved ones who support my choice to study away from home. As much as I miss them, it also made me realize that I should have started living for myself a long time ago. It’s something I will keep doing from now on. After all, in the end, you’ll either have memories of everything you accomplished, or regrets about the things you didn’t.
