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Everything's Gonna Be Okay (and Other Things I Tell Myself at 1:00 a.m.)

I'm floating in a state of self-managed chaos these days. Floating from one apartment to another, from one job posting to another, from one life vision to another. "I could see myself doing that" applies to a vast array of possibilities, only to turn into "something I could never see myself doing" less than 24 hours later.

I'm lost finding myself. Perhaps there's no need to find yourself if you've found what you're looking for. As for me, I'm still looking for a lot of things. I guess that's because I've lost a lot of things, including myself. I'm hoping I find myself in the process of finding everything else.

I've spent a number of years living inauthentically, but inauthentically with a steady income. I haven't had one of those in a while, but that's okay. Everything's gonna be okay. It's true, because it has to be.

It isn't comfortable existing in a state of constant uncertainty, but it's also the case that if you live in chaos long enough, it starts to feel normal. Only to a point, though. I've been pushing it in 2022. I don't know what my next job is going to be. I don't know where I'll be staying four days from now. I don't have a clue where I'll be by the end of this year.

All I can say is I'm here. I'm alive and I'm me. And I'm in much better shape than I was living in Burlington the past six months or so. Not better shape financially or physically; just better shape in my heart, mind and soul.

I don't have a house to call home, but Toronto itself is home and always will be. It's good to be home. All I need to do now is find the roof over my head and money in my pocket that will allow me to stay here. The suburbs weren't built for people like me: single, carless, careless, childless, unemployed, creative and chaotic.

I'm grateful for the shelter I had with my friend in Burlington, even though it wasn't easy adjusting to life in the suburbs. I'm grateful for the apartment I'm borrowing in Toronto, where I'm sitting at someone else's desk, writing these words. What happens tomorrow, no one knows. That's nothing new, though: "tomorrow" is when a pandemic descended; "tomorrow" is when I've lost jobs, quit jobs, started jobs; "tomorrow" is when I've met men who changed my weekend. Or my life. (Usually just my weekend.)

I don't have a house to call home, but Toronto itself is home and always will be.

The only choice we really have is to live today. But I'm keeping a foot in tomorrow. That's where my hopes reside. Just because I didn't find what I was looking for today doesn't mean it won't happen tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow is where I'll find another piece of the puzzle of everything I was always meant to become.

Everything's gonna be okay. It will. Because I don't have a backup plan. I'm living for the best-case scenario.

- M.B.

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