Mind the gap between my brain and my heart

I think the saddest part about returning home from a trip is the realization that life just keeps going and the clock keeps on ticking. People move on and continue their lives with or without you in the picture.

I was really looking forward to coming home from this last trip. Not because there was anything wrong, but rather because London always breaks my heart a little and I know that if I overstay my welcome, I might actually dread coming home. London was my last stop of this trip and the place I always long to go back to because of the way my heart feels while I'm there.

If you've been here for a while, you'll know that London is the place I first had my "Lizzie McGuire" moment - as I have referred to in the past. You'll know that a piece of my heart was always left in London. That was seven years ago. When I reminisced with my friends there about that, we all couldn't believe that we have left seven years take this space in our lives without any visits from one to the other. Life gets busy and frankly, had it not been for this cheap return flight that I found out of London, I probably would have left more years pass us by until my eventual return to London. The more years that passed, the less I thought about what London meant to me back then, but also thereafter.

I will say though that the beauty of long-distance friendships is that no matter how many years go by and messages that become more and more infrequent as the months and years pass us by, somehow, someway, you can always find your way back to each other and it always feels as if no time at all has passed. No grudges held, no expectation, just the desire to have your paths cross again at some point in time, in some corner of the world.

My nephew came to pick me up from the airport, despite us having last talked maybe a handful of years before. He hugged me and welcomed me back to London. Catching up felt weird because where do you start when literal years have passed and you know nothing of one another other than the scattered Facebook posts you interact with a few times a year? The car ride felt both short and long at the same time. There was a lot of ground to cover and a lot of awkwardness to get through since we have changed a lot since we'd last seen each other. He decided to start shaving his head and I have been growing grays for some time. Before I knew it, the front door opened and my aunt welcomed me with open arms and a smile that felt so warm - it felt like home. I've always thought of home as a fluid concept defined by moments, people, and less so by places. When she hugged me and asked me if I like schnitzels, I really felt like home. Over the course of the night and as my cousin eventually joined us, we took a walk down memory lane, sharing stories of our childhood, the places we've been and the places we wish to go. We talked about the present and where we wish to be in the future. Glasses were emptied and refilled, laughs were shared and the light in the room felt a little warmer than when I had first stepped in. It felt even more like home.

The problem with any one place when I am travelling is that as comfortable as it may seem, it never really is like the comfort I feel when I am sleeping in my own bed at home (in Toronto that is). And so, I tiptoed through the night to the bathroom and stubbed my toe once or twice because the layout of their home was not nearly the same as mine. I washed my face with hand soap cause after all, I was only staying there a night and taking out my skincare from my suitcase was a nuisance I didn't want or need.

When morning came, coffee was shared around the same table from the night before, now blurry with the thought of dehydration from the alcohol that filled our glasses just eight hours before. Hugs were exchanged and before I had time to process it all, my suitcase was once again in the trunk of my nephew's car and we headed over to my girl friend's house that I hadn't seen in seven years. Hours passed before we caught our breath to even think about doing anything else. We couldn't stop yapping. I guess that's what happens when you let so many years pass by. Her hug felt like she had been waiting for me forever, warm and filled with love. The truth is, we only technically met seven years ago when my childhood best friend introduced us, so technically, it's not like we were ever the best of friends. However, in that moment of reunion, I felt as if I was hugging my long lost bestest friend. Everything felt new in all the most familiar ways. She now lived elsewhere in London and my childhood best friend that introduced us all those years ago, had since moved back to Romania. She spoke differently but I couldn't pin what exactly changed because as much as I keep mentioning it, seven years is an awful long time and while it felt like only a month went by, everything was different even if our hearts were purely still the same.

Over the next few days, we got drinks, we went out, we smoked enough ciggies in between yapping sessions to truly create a smokehouse. I saw London again with her and heard the ever so familiar "mind the gap" through the automated voices of the metro. I love girlhood and the ability to connect with a single look we exchanged when a hot man passed us by or if we were ever so bothered that a single look was enough. I loved being in her presence and feeling like the nights were always young and coming home didn't necessarily mean that we had to go to sleep. There was no beginning and no end. I felt so invigorated in her presence. I wish she knew how much she healed me during those few days.

Our time was shared with a new friend too, a sweet girl I was introduced to by a mutual friend over the course of the pandemic that I had met in person only a week before coming to London, despite having been online friends for the last three years. I think the coolest thing about this kind of girl friends is that we genuinely have no room for evil. We cheer for each other in the background, we exchange wishes of well, we uplift from thousands of miles away. And so, with meeting her, I was able to introduce my two girl friends to one another and hoped that in my absence, they would continue to hangout and form a beautiful friendship. After all, they do live in the same beautiful and heartbreaking city.

A knot formed in my stomach as the days got closer to getting to see the last person I had to see in London. Him. Though we had been in touch on and off quite regularly over the last seven years, none of the scenarios I had playing in my head quite accounted for the moment I spotted him walking towards me. My insides were unwell. He was older, taller than I had remembered and finally grew into his body of a full ass man. The crinkles around his eyes indicated the long hours he works on the daily. He was rigid at the touch, similar to how we left things off, seven years before, in front of the art gallery that I now refuse to go back to.

Stolen glances that I just had to have because I couldn't believe he was real, the playful winks he'd send my way from across a room of art and culture enthusiasts. The gentle arm he wrapped around me once we sat down at the front of the top of a double-decker bus that drove right past the Big Ben. The way our fingers intertwined and the slow burn of a kiss on the lips I wondered if I'd ever get to kiss again. And then, the next morning, wondering if it all was a fever dream. A promise that this was not goodbye, but rather a "see you soon".

He winked at me once more as he started stepping backwards and I took into account that a piece of my heart would once again be left in London, this time at a train station. Something was different this time though - I left that piece there willingly. He didn't rip it out of my chest, he didn't beg for it to be given to him. This time, I was willing to walk away without a piece of my heart cause the truth is, I didn't long for it anymore.

On the way back to my girl friend's house, I picked up some redbull. I had 24 hours left in London and I fully intended to make the best of what was left. She made me a coffee and breakfast and we got ready to take on the day. I feel butterflies in my stomach from the memory. It was so mundane and normal and yet, I couldn't help but think of how much I miss having someone around me more often. I guess I really didn't know that I had been feeling lonely in my day-to-day life until just then.

One last meal in a crappy chinese restaurant, one last yap session with my two girls, a pack of cigarettes and couple of cocktails. Before I knew it, we were saying good bye again. We promised not to be sad, we'd see each other soon after all. We wouldn't wait another seven years again.

It's been about a month since I've been back home and my heart still hurts a little when I think of how blessed I am to feel this way. To be able to book a flight and board a plane solo and go to countries around the world where people that I've spent time with maybe just for a day or two in the past, they take me in to their homes, they show me their cities and bless me with new memories to carry back home with me. How fortunate and rich am I to be able to have these experiences, share these moments and truly have my heart ripped out of my chest with each and every trip.

I hope that each and every one of you reading this gets to experience this one day because you will feel richer with each and every one of these beautiful unique moments. I hope you feel love, joy and the yearning for life.

As always, and although I know I haven't written in ages, thanks for coming to my Cez talk.

Embracing impermanence

The last couple of months have really been a whirlwind of emotions. I hate that sometimes I want to write something with so much depth in it and my words fall short in the process. This is partially why I haven't been writing lately. I have a lot to say but I feel like I am lacking in certain areas that would otherwise assist my creative brain. So bear with me, I am a little rusty.

I have been working pretty hard lately on something that has the ability to shape the entire rest of my future and that has been a very interesting change of pace. I have been sober for about a month and a half in an effort to concentrate better and not lose days nursing hangovers. That has been interesting too especially with summer still being in full swing. It hasn't changed much in my life, probably just my tolerance so I know that one beer will feel like a dozen when I eventually do drink again.

All that being said, I have found myself feeling lonely these days. This time commitment has forced me to isolate myself a fair bit and I don't love it but the solitude has made me notice more of the things going on around me.

For starters, I am noticing that a lot of people are breaking up and that has been tough to watch especially if the people going through the breakups are close friends. On the other hand, I am noticing the people that are falling in love and that is quite beautiful too. In some ways, there is beauty in impermanence - seeing a chapter close only for a new exciting and maybe even scary one to begin.

I am noticing that I am starting to care again and that's been a new feeling lately. As much as I am a romantic, I have a hard time giving my all to someone and I guess that also goes right back to impermanence. I am scared of falling again or caring too much only for that care to be taken for granted and abused. I've done that a lot and I don't think I was wrong to care, but I almost always wish I was better at slowing down and loving from afar. I get too excited, too hungry for that heat of the moment lust. I am the literal definition of a hopeless romantic. I experience one beautiful moment and I want to write novels about it, sing my heart out for the world to hear. I guess I am just hoping that there will be someone out there one day who will want to write novels about me and sing their heart out to the beat of my heart too.

In other news, I have been giving a lot of thought to the concept of permanence or lack thereof. I'm not going to lie, I really was bummed out over that guy from the last blog post. That situation bothered me for a while and it got me thinking that perhaps I really need to take a break. BUT... in true Cez fashion, it's as if I have a gift for attracting people when I am at my most broken.

I came across someone that I frankly thought I'd ghost within the week because he lives in Michigan and I cannot stand the idea of not having someone physically with me these days. I never thought I was a physical touch love language kind of person until recently I guess, and now, I'd rather bang my head off a wall full force than think about anything long distance again. Been there, done that, hated every minute of it. However, he did not fuck off LOL.

As the days passed and the conversations went from one day to the next, I grew a bit of a soft spot. To be completely candid, I did try to tell him to let go of the idea of me (on two separate occasions). It didn't work. As much as he didn't want to let go, I don't think I did either. Until about two days ago, I did not think I cared that much. I have been trying to practice slowing down and boundaries if you would believe. I tried keeping him in the background and focusing on what or better yet, who is in front of me physically. I felt guilty.

And so, two days ago, without meaning to, he scared me by saying "Hi Cez". He usually calls me pet names, something cutesy, literally never by my name. I swear that although I had no reason to think this, I could have bet my life on the fact that he was calling me Cez because he was about to break us off (a relationship that isn't a relationship for total added clarity LOL). My heart sank to my literal stomach. It wasn't until that exact moment that I realized I actually cared for him and whether he stays in my life in some capacity.

This type of caring though has been weird, maybe even different than before. I feel like I am getting to a point where my heart has a lot of bandaids over it and it's not regenerating in the way it used to. If anything, it's kind of used to this idea of impermanence and that's kind of sad. When my heart sank to my stomach, it was an almost expected feeling, as if I knew exactly how to rip open the bandaid package already and place it carefully over the wound. I was already ready for the heartbreak.

There was nothing wrong though and he just wanted to switch it up from calling me pet names all the time.

But me, I was ready to embrace impermanence.

Fireworks and butterflies and the heat of a moment that is nothing but a mere moment

I haven't written in a while and I'm sorry for that. June tends to be that way every year. I am now a year older and closer to 30 and that scares me a bit. Only eleven months left of my 20's.

I was talking to this Irish guy about two weeks ago that sent me a podcast episode (Mel Robbins Podcast - 13 things I wish I knew in my 20's) to listen to on my drive from Windsor to Toronto. His mom had sent him the episode and he shared it with me too. I resonated with a lot of it, as I'm sure many people my age would. The thing is that most podcasts are put out there to appeal to the masses so it only makes sense that these lessons or pieces of advice would be quite broad and applicable to us all.

That being said, one of those 13 things was of particular interest to me, which is the point of what I wanted to write about today. It said something along the lines of "date people for who they are and not the potential of who you want them to be". Frankly, I had to stop the episode right after she said that line because I needed a moment to process before I could even listen to her explanation of what she meant by it. Date someone for exactly who they are and not their baggage, not their work-in-progress attitude, not their immature inability to be a good partner. They might have potential but that doesn't mean they'll reach it.

I thought back to a few weeks prior. I had met this really awesome guy in a bar. I was very heavily under the influence and not at all in a position to meet anyone. I was sitting at the bar in one of my favourite places on King West with my good friend. This guy comes up and sits next to me and tries to make small talk. I remember not caring much about what he had to say because my eyes were locked in on the bartender who was ignoring the crap out of my drink order and I just wanted to drink my troubles away. In an effort to make this guy go away, I told him that I'd only give him my attention if he was able to get the bartender's attention so I could get a drink. He smiled and yelled out bloody murder to the bartender as if someone really was chasing him down with a gun. I never got a drink so quickly in my life.

Now, stuck with my promise, the guy wanted my attention. Once I finally got a good look at him with my drunk goggles on, I realized he really was quite handsome. After a few slurred exchanges, smiles and flirty eyes, he got up and asked me to dance. Ok yeah he was not only hot, but he stood at a gorgeous height above me and kissed my forehead. I was rather enamored. Although we mutually wanted to take each other home, we settled for some stolen kisses and intertwined fingers. He said he would message me to plan something proper when we aren't drunk. I agreed.

A mere 48 hours later, he picked me up for our date. I mostly agreed to be picked up because I couldn't for the life of me remember what he looked like once I sobered up. I didn't regret it though. Not only did he have good taste in cars, but he looked fine as hell. Dress pants, button up white shirt, gorgeous flowy hair that just about touched his shoulders. Right, I remembered the hair. Soft-spoken, polite, opened every door. He couldn't take his eyes off me and quite frankly, I couldn't believe how gorgeous this man was. I think that if he had brought me flowers too, I would've sworn off any other man for the rest of my existence right then and there. That's how perfect that was.

I was a bit embarrassed because I had spent the 24 hours prior trying to remember our interaction at the bar. I had snippets of memory fill my brain and those snippets were far from the attitude I would've had with this beautiful of a man. He laughed when I said that and said he actually was the one who sought me out because he thought I was beautiful. I was blowing him off so heavily though and so I asked why he continued trying even though in those moments I had zero interest in anything other than my tequila soda. He thought our interaction was different than what he usually gets so it was actually quite refreshing. I was drowning in embarrassment.

One thing led to another and the lights were starting to turn off at the restaurant he took me to. We had been talking for so long that the whole place cleared out in the meantime and we were the only two left. The owner eventually came to greet us and told us how she was admiring us from afar and didn't want to kick us out because we were just radiating in each other's presence. I couldn't have imagined a better evening.

He drove me home and took the literal longest way home. We couldn't stop talking. Not a single pause, not a single defect. Eventually, even while parked in front of my place and about a dozen goodbyes and goodnights, we continued talking. Another hour in the car and my mouth was beginning to need water. He asked if I had tea. Of course I had tea.

Normally, I wouldn't invite a guy upstairs after a date. It's just not my style. But him? I didn't want this conversation to end. It was so good that I wanted to live in that moment forever. We connected in a way that I only felt before with one person. You guys know cause I've written about that guy so many times. Except this felt even better. I know this is an insane statement of me to make.

We both settled on sparkling water and sat back down, this time on my couch and continued talking. We talked like that until 5 in the morning, until we eventually fell asleep in each other's arms. A mean alarm woke us up at 7:30am. It was a Tuesday. We both needed to go to work. I had the best night I ever had with a man and all we did was talk. I was still wearing the same clothes from dinner. It didn't feel real. I didn't think real life had the ability to feel this good.

A week or so later, it all imploded. Shocker.

Although I'd like to put the blame on him, I'm not sure that's fair. I seem to have a knack for finding men when they're in their healing stage and they need to work on themselves. We all need love though, and I guess I give him grace because he was 6 months freshly out of a relationship and our connection felt great in the moment when you can lose yourself for a night and be vulnerable with another. I don't think that it wasn't real but I can appreciate the raw realization that dawns upon us when the night turns into day and reality kicks in. He wasn't healed and a connection like ours made him realize there were other things he needed to focus on. This wouldn't have been just a fling and so the realization that he was nowhere near healed enough for more, must've been scary. I can't blame him. Sometimes you really don't know that you need to step back until something or someone pushes your boundaries.

I was okay to let him go. I didn't want to date the potential of him or the love I desired. I was interested in him, but not the unhealed version of him. I didn't want to fix him. I didn't want to wait on the sidelines until he was ready to give me that unfiltered version I got to see that night. I wanted that all the time and he was not in a position to give me that.

On the other hand, I am healed. I am ready for more. I am ready to stay up all night with someone I vibe with and talk about every subject in the book, from A to Z and speak about everything in detail. I am ready to pour into someone but in such a way where we only complement each other and don't become co-dependent. Two whole people, completely ok on their own, who seek the companionship of one another. I don't need a project. I don't need insecurity or to keep looking at my phone waiting for a text or call to come in. I don't need to wonder about what they're up to, why they're not texting, or why they can't make time for me.

I listened to that podcast episode about two weeks after this whole thing imploded with the beautiful man. I felt good knowing that although I knew I made the right choice, someone else validated me. Date someone for who they are, and not their potential to be who you think they could be. This beautiful man could have one day grown into the partner that he gave me the impression he could be on that first date. However, he was not there yet and quite frankly, I didn't know whether that day was coming anytime soon. I couldn't wait for him to get there when he himself had doubts about what he could and could not give me.

I'd do a disservice to myself if I allowed someone to take up space in my heart if they didn't know that I like flowers and I want them often without having to ask. Similarly, if their day doesn't start with the thought of me and greeting me, well, why not? I don't want to find excuses for why I am receiving less than what I want and desire and dream of having. Love should feel good and secure and it should make me cheese my way through every day. The cool thing is that I've experienced snippets of this and I know it exists. Now it's more so finding the one that doesn't implode so quickly.

As always, thanks for coming to my Cez talk xo