Self Help

Things fall apart

So I packed my bags and prepared to leave behind everything I'd ever known. I'd literally been born and raised in the tiny perimeter of about 15 blocks, and I was going to trade that comfort for a city where I knew no one. My town didn't even have public transit for christ's sake.

The six hour drive to Ottawa felt excruciatingly long. It was as if with every hour, I felt the distance between Aidan and I growing. This distance felt tangible, like a giant weight on my heart.

My parents and Megan came to move me in to my residence room, and after some unpacking and errands, they were ready to go. As I watched them pull away from my residence building, the reality of the situation hit me like a ton of bricks.

What the fuck was I thinking?

My new roommate was a complete stranger to me, and now we'd be living for the next eight months in a tiny cinderblock room that was painted white and orange (and had blue carpet - yuck!). She smelled like cigarette smoke, and spoke both Polish and Italian fluently, being careful to almost never speak English in my presence. She would use a real clothes iron and a piece of cardboard to straighten her hair, but that's besides the point.

Needless to say, I quickly realized just how far away I was from everything that made me feel safe or comforted.

So I had a meltdown.

After only two weeks away,  I found myself on the Greyhound headed for home.

But I didn't give up. Once I'd figured out how to make the journey home (in just seven hours of travelling!), I didn't feel so isolated once I knew that I could come home any time I needed. Aidan re-assured me that as hard as it was, I was where I needed to be. I got on the bus after that weekend feeling motivated and capable.

I settled in to my classes and even made some friends. The girls next door (who we shared a bathroom with) were wonderful and I spent a lot of time in their room hiding from my roommate. I liked my courses, and found that University was something that I could excel at.

I'd chosen to pursue an Art History degree, because it was always a subject I'd been interested in, and I'd done really well in the history portion of my highschool art classes. Since I was little I'd wanted to be an artist, but with no natural talent, I pursued the "those who can't do, learn!" approach. I had no idea what I would do with my degree, but I knew that the first year of an arts degree would be so general that I could easily switch majors and transfer my electives if I found I wasn't where I should be.

During this time Aidan was beginning to make the huge decisions that come with graduating. He was still dreaming of life with me in Ottawa, but now came the practicalities of achieving that dream. Where would he study? When I would visit him I would study beside him as he dutifully worked on completing his portfolios for any school with an animation program. He applied to a couple of programs as back up, but his heart was set on us being together, and he knew that dream was dependent on him getting in.

Aidan's parents' divorce was now going full speed ahead and his father's absence in their house was more obvious than ever. His mom was spending less time out with friends and more time alone in her room. His father was dating someone new. And his twin brother was no where to be found, always with his girlfriend. Everyone was doing their best to put one foot in front of the other, but no one had the strength to support anyone but themselves.

I felt completely helpless, listening on the other side of the phone from my dorm room as Aidan described how much he missed me, how hard things were with his family, and how lonely he was finding school now that I'd gone. I knew I had to go to University, but I felt as if this was all my fault. As if somehow, if I had been there, I could have saved him from all of his pain.