Confessions of a Church Girl

I had a lovely birthday. My friends are sweet and thoughtful and kind. This is what Thursday night looked like at the bar downstairs:

Perfect, right? 

I don't mean to come across as ungrateful because I'm not. Almost five years out though, it's still an uphill battle some days to feel at home in the life I'm in now. Do I feel loved? A thousand times YES!  

Is this home yet? Not so much. It's actually a lot like it was moving from PEI to Toronto. A big scary place where I felt I just didn't fit in. I made friends, I learned how to survive in a different place, play by different rules, but that process took time.

When I was a JW, one of my elders told me once when I was considering moving away with my BFF at the time, that I wasn't like her. I need to plant roots to feel grounded. Roots take a hell of a long time to grow. 

Before all the ex-jws who blog stalk me get their panties in a knot, I have to say, I'd never, ever consider going back. There's something about your birthday though that makes you crave family, consistency, structure. Things I don't really have anymore. 

I'll tell you a secret. If I could get a "day pass" back to my old life, I'd do it in a minute. Not forever, not undoing any of the progress I've made the past few years. Just a visit. 

I'd wake up in my old apartment in the Beaches, next to my ex-husband and roll over for a cuddle. He'd go across the street to Starbucks and get me a coffee while I took a shower. Cat would be there, whining at me for wet food. 

We'd go see my baby, he'd hang out with her dad, speaking Vietnamese while I helped her pick out an outfit for some upcoming, important event while we sang along to Taylor Swift.

I'd have lunch with my three best friends in Yorkville, the girls I grew up with since I was a kid. We were all bridesmaids in each other's weddings and I honestly thought we'd still be lunching together when we were old ladies. 

Maybe then we'd go see my mom and sister, and everything would be normal again. We'd come home, walk to the pub around the corner from our place and as we were walking he'd say what he always said: "People who are in love hold hands."

I'd go to bed feeling anxious, the same way I do now, but for different reasons. 

So I can't go back. I can't think of anything worse than a life of being bound to a cause I just don't believe in. But I still miss the people. It would be nice to visit. :)

"I can't go back to yesterday, because I was a different person then." - Alice in Wonderland