volume ninety-four
it’s not you, it’s me
Thank you to reader, Auddie B, for the suggestion of the topic for this week. If you have something you want me to write about, let me know in the comments!
Tell me about going back to a place where nothing has changed but you…
I have moved many times, I have moved homes, cities, countries… I travel a lot now too, taking care of other’s homes, and getting to see more of the world as a result. Each time I get to a new house, there is a feeling of moving, of unpacking, of setting up, of settling in. When these moves and travels happen, even though there may be some lingering sadness at leaving people or places, or the physical exhaustion of packing and unpacking, none of that matters when you have a new place to explore.
What bakery is closest that makes a good oat latte and vegan sweets?
Where is the best Thai restaurant?
Where might my stack of journals sit best in this new room for easy reach but to aesthetically please me?
How far do I walk for dairy-free ice cream?
What parks are nearby for laying in the grass and reading, or pretending to read but instead eavesdropping?
What is the water pressure like in the shower?
Where will I do my groceries so that I can support local and also my budget?
Where are the recovery meetings and do they end before my bedtime?
Do all of the elements on the stove work?
What Artist Dates are possible and how many of them are free?
When does the sun hit the front of the house and the back, so I can follow it?
How do I get to the ocean from here?
Coming back to Vancouver, I know where to get my overpriced oat latte, sold by people younger and cooler than me, with mullets and clothes that make me look boring.
In Vancouver, I know what neighbourhoods to avoid because they bring up uncomfortable feelings, memories, and past versions of myself I haven’t made peace with yet.
In Vancouver, I know there is a meeting two blocks away from the house and I can leave 20 minutes before it begins and still help to set up and have fellowship and cookies beforehand.
In Vancouver, I know the water pressure is better than at Nan and Pop’s place and I missed that.
In Vancouver, the family who live in the building across from me and I still awkwardly catch eyes while I write in the morning and they eat their breakfast. Their children have grown in size but the eldest still sits at the window and sings throughout the day.
In Vancouver, I know what parks are close, and that most of the time they’re too soggy from rain to lie in.
In Vancouver, my bedroom was set up just as I left it. The frames hung on the wall — various prints that inspire me, move me, tell me I am the love of my own life — hung with a simple tack, strategically, to hide holes left by other careless roommates past.
In Vancouver, all I had to do to settle in was unzip my suitcase and unpack my clothes and every skincare product known to man. Then I pulled my carefully washed, dried, folded and stored bed linen, and made up my place to sleep.
Maybe the lack of excitement in this not-so-new place was what made it feel shaky coming back. Maybe it was the jetlag. Maybe it was the sadness of leaving Nan. Or maybe, Auddie, it is like you said. Maybe it is that nothing has changed but me. I craved the familiar so much and now I feel I have outgrown it. Vancouver has served its purpose for me now, perhaps. Maybe I can see two futures: one where I keep coming back, different every time, or one where I take this different version of me and bring her where I feel she can blossom.
The version of me now doesn’t need a busy city with late-night bars, because she is sober and is in bed by 9pm, most days. The version of me knows first-hand, how she is a different person when the sun is out, and no amount of snuggly movie days can compare to sitting in the sun with a book or a pet or a person. The version of me now loves early starts, her morning routine is non-negotiable, it is quiet and ritualistic and is made easier when getting out of bed is as warm as being in it. The version of me now knows the lure of many different delicious cuisines at my doorstep is not as appealing to me as the ocean in walking distance. The version of me now would prefer the mystery of silence, so that a rustle of a tree is a reason to imagine what is outside — a possum? — instead of being woken by sirens and folks chatting on their walks home after nights out. The version of me now saw what was possible when she went on stage in a new place, when she sat to write at a new desk, when she cooked dinner for her Nan when she visited her, when she put her mosquito-bitten legs in salt water, when she wakes craving coffee and not another drink to get her upright, when she gets an upset tummy and can begin to pinpoint ways to eliminate things to take care of herself, instead of it being the norm for her to feel queasy.
The version of me wants to slow down a bit, Auddie. Maybe that sounds impossible to do if I am constantly moving, but I think it is where I go on these moves, that makes the difference.
Vancouver hasn’t changed, but I have. Vancouver is exactly what I needed when I needed it, and now I need something less so I can open myself up to feel more.
Lovely reader, tell me about going back to a place where nothing has changed but you.
I spend many hours a week writing, recording and preparing these love letters for you and it brings me so much joy. I want these to always be free so in order to support my work and keep these coming at no cost, you can:
🧡 forward it to just one friend! just one! telling them you love it, and you think they will too!
🧡 leave a comment on this post telling me what you think of this volume!
🧡 join the hi, lauren deborah! chat, another free space for fun and silly conversations! you can now access it through your desktop so you don’t need the substack app to join in on silly conversations discussing things like this proof that I did it:
here are three things I struggled with this week:
🥴 Do I actually function better when I am very busy? Is this just what I have told myself and done for most of my life so I don't know differently? Am I terrible at “spare time”? It’s a work in progress.
🌠 The jealous pang when I learn my Dad and Aunty are spending the weekend with Nan or when I call my niece for her birthday and she’s camping with my sister and their whole family. Maybe jealous isn’t the right word. I just want to be there. It’s more a wish that my patience needs to get on board with.
✔️ To-do lists and letting them creep into my sacred time.
here are three blessings from this week:
👅 I purchased a tongue scraper on the advice of a friend and I am disgusted. And delighted.
🌞 My morning rituals are bliss and I only keep enhancing their deliciousness to start my day.
🕮 Housesits mean new bookshelves to peruse. Lovely.
here are three goals for the coming week:
🌲 Spend more time in the sun, eating delicious sweets, enjoying wonderful conversation with my friend Abra, as I spend time visiting Vancouver Island on this housesit.
🌻 Get through the last of the cold for the season. At the time of writing this, I have two more days before the temperatures give me summer vibes. At the time of you reading this, imagine me outside in the sun, because I am.
🚶♀️ Walks! Walks! Walks!
here is something I enjoyed this week:
A friend
has recently started a substack, , and it has been so wonderful reading it.The most recent volume weaves a late grandmother’s handwritten recipe book, childhood tastebud memories and family detective work to bring a meal to life. I love Silvano’s storytelling and highly recommend subscribing to his substack.
pics or it didn’t happen:
I love you. I’m so grateful to those who read my substack 🧡 because I really love writing it to you.
LD
xoxo
That feeling of needing to be somewhere else. Definitely can relate!
Your take was so beautifully written! I loved it, thank you 🥰 Also, it came at the perfect time for me.
The place I’m currently living in definitely served its purpose and I cannot wait to leave. And go back to my hometown/homeland where nothing really changed but me. I love it there it’s quite and people are friendly enough, they just aren’t my tribe. But now I’ve learned that I could (almost) go anywhere, the more important is the amount of everyday joy I can create within my self and/or the people I love.