Fish out of Water
I was headed to the bus depot, to hop on a Mega-boring-bus to Montreal, and I realized I had forgotten my favourite companion, my journal, for the trip. I popped into Shoppers and picked up a cheap composition book, one I thought could at least get me by for the duration of my weekend getaway.
Little did I know it would become the launching pad for transformation.
I moved to Toronto 2 and a half years ago, and I cannot believe it. Sometimes I wake up and decide I'm going to visit my sister on the South Shore later that afternoon and then I remember that I live 400+ kms away from her.
The hope was, back when I first got here, that the momentum I felt in my comedy life in Montreal would automatically translate to this new city. The total confidence I had on Quebecois stages and streets, I thought, would carry me swiftly to a variety of venues and shows here in Toronto, even though I don't really know too many people, or am actually terribly terribly (terribly) socially anxious.
Suddenly, as if a flurry of obstacles were flying towards me at warp speed, I found myself trying to juggle a whack-load of life components that you need to have in order with an unstable lifestyle: a part-time job (or several), an affordable apartment, a social life, creativity, confidence, money for food and classes... all these things that I had in the bag in Montreal.
In Montreal, I had my 9-5, I had my community, I had my niche fat and sad characters that I loved to portray, I had a festival I helped bring together, I had.. it all!
So why would I leave it behind for a minimum wage salary, a severe hit to my self-esteem, a chunky gap on my professional CV and so... soo much more shit I can't even begin to list.
On the first page of this composition book, I began to list all of the different ways I felt in Montreal: hypersocial, fearless, very much in control, etc. Next to that column, I listed how I felt now, after a year in Toronto: Introverted, fearful, a lot is out of my control, directionless, difficulty understanding people, etc etc etc, a stark contrast to the way I felt in my hometown.
It's the first time I've really struggled. I played it safe in a lot of ways, and really thought I had all the tools I needed for success, it was going to be a breeze!
Well that breeze quickly turned into a gale force wind and struck me down.
I was broke. I was depressed. I felt hopeless and my anxiety was through the roof, but every time things got hard and I would call home, and my family would encourage me to move back, some little stubborn troll in me slammed its foot down and I'd say no, no not yet, there's something here for me. There's something bigger here for me, I just need to stick it out and find my way.
Eventually things started to turn around, after facing several challenges, and I began working with incredible people and discovering new skills I didn't know I possessed. I started making new friends, and my feet started to move a little lighter, my chin was held up a little higher, and that confidence started creeping back in.
A year after that weekend trip, I went through my composition book, and I crammed in another column to recognize how I'm feeling now.
It's not perfect, and I still feel super awkward around people most of the time, but I've come to understand the balance between fate and stewardship of your life. Here I sit, in a place I never could have fathomed 3 years ago. I'm in the unknown, and there's still so much to discover- what it is and who it's with is not clear to me yet, but it will be, soon. That troll is a pretty stubborn little bastard.
Ty Segall,
Katie
Little did I know it would become the launching pad for transformation.
I moved to Toronto 2 and a half years ago, and I cannot believe it. Sometimes I wake up and decide I'm going to visit my sister on the South Shore later that afternoon and then I remember that I live 400+ kms away from her.
The hope was, back when I first got here, that the momentum I felt in my comedy life in Montreal would automatically translate to this new city. The total confidence I had on Quebecois stages and streets, I thought, would carry me swiftly to a variety of venues and shows here in Toronto, even though I don't really know too many people, or am actually terribly terribly (terribly) socially anxious.
Suddenly, as if a flurry of obstacles were flying towards me at warp speed, I found myself trying to juggle a whack-load of life components that you need to have in order with an unstable lifestyle: a part-time job (or several), an affordable apartment, a social life, creativity, confidence, money for food and classes... all these things that I had in the bag in Montreal.
In Montreal, I had my 9-5, I had my community, I had my niche fat and sad characters that I loved to portray, I had a festival I helped bring together, I had.. it all!
So why would I leave it behind for a minimum wage salary, a severe hit to my self-esteem, a chunky gap on my professional CV and so... soo much more shit I can't even begin to list.
On the first page of this composition book, I began to list all of the different ways I felt in Montreal: hypersocial, fearless, very much in control, etc. Next to that column, I listed how I felt now, after a year in Toronto: Introverted, fearful, a lot is out of my control, directionless, difficulty understanding people, etc etc etc, a stark contrast to the way I felt in my hometown.
It's the first time I've really struggled. I played it safe in a lot of ways, and really thought I had all the tools I needed for success, it was going to be a breeze!
Well that breeze quickly turned into a gale force wind and struck me down.
I was broke. I was depressed. I felt hopeless and my anxiety was through the roof, but every time things got hard and I would call home, and my family would encourage me to move back, some little stubborn troll in me slammed its foot down and I'd say no, no not yet, there's something here for me. There's something bigger here for me, I just need to stick it out and find my way.
Eventually things started to turn around, after facing several challenges, and I began working with incredible people and discovering new skills I didn't know I possessed. I started making new friends, and my feet started to move a little lighter, my chin was held up a little higher, and that confidence started creeping back in.
A year after that weekend trip, I went through my composition book, and I crammed in another column to recognize how I'm feeling now.
It's not perfect, and I still feel super awkward around people most of the time, but I've come to understand the balance between fate and stewardship of your life. Here I sit, in a place I never could have fathomed 3 years ago. I'm in the unknown, and there's still so much to discover- what it is and who it's with is not clear to me yet, but it will be, soon. That troll is a pretty stubborn little bastard.
Ty Segall,
Katie
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