35 and still alive

My birthday hit a bit differently this year.

Hello friend,

I’m 35 and still alive. That was the slogan for May, a rollercoaster of a month that pushed me to the limits of fatigue.

For every low there was a matching high. Every moment that made me consider booking a flight back to Canada was met with laugh-till-you-cry joy. From a couch to a new apartment; the necessary-but-still-sad end of a friendship to my first full pay day from my new job; loneliness to long hugs from friends who smell criminally good.

My brother and I call this Sissons Luck. When things are going good for us, they’re going really good. When they’re not... well, my brother got hit by a tree once, so take from that what you will. Swings and roundabouts. We’re used to it, But as you can imagine, it’s exhausting. I was just so tired. I am still so tired.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the call of the forests. I wanted to be in my safe space, swallowed up by moss and ferns and sea spray. The only reason I didn’t book the flight home was because I had a castle booked for 17 people over the Victoria Day weekend. People were flying across continents and oceans, ostensibly to celebrate my birthday with me.

It turns out putting 17 near-strangers in a castle for a weekend is a great distraction. Thanks to my No Duds/No Disclaimers Trishmas policy, which means I only invite people who are great the moment you meet them (absolutely no ‘he’s great but…’ or ‘she’s great once you get to know her’—we don’t have time), everyone got along. Some even got along extra well, giving me the gift of gossip.

Over the weekend, I felt very held by my friends—old and new. I have one friend who shows up for me in such big ways, and this month was no exception. Every single time my heart is broken or my head is aching, she books a flight and a hotel with enough room for me and all my feelings. My new friends went over the top, gifting me a Claddagh necklace, making me feel like maybe there was a place for me in this country after all.

But for all the good, I spent much of the weekend fighting the sadness of knowing what this year was supposed to be.