volume sixty-eight

this started being about one thing then led to another

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I heard it said this week (I saw it written in a meme) that Halloween is Queer christmas* and I haven’t felt more seen since I discovered the terms for my sexuality. I L O V E christmas, do not get me wrong. It is the best excuse and time to be with family (biological or chosen) and share meals prepared with love. The whole concept of sharing at christmas lights me up. Sharing food, sharing gifts, sharing laughs and memories and stories and games and duties of prepping and clean-up. I cannot wait to spend another christmas down under with my family and soak up the summer sun as I used to when I was a child.

The only other holiday that gave me quite the same amount of pleasure growing up was Halloween. But we didn’t celebrate it. It slowly began to sneak in as I grew up but it is springtime in Australia, not the spooky season. So, the decades of nostalgia don’t hit in the way they do for those of you who grew up carving pumpkins and trick-or-treating and getting scared out of your mind.

For me, it involved watching Hocus Pocus (I mean at any time of the year, I was confused) and popping on a long skirt, grabbing the broom and dancing around the farm singing SJP’s iconic Come Little Children and wishing I was witchy. When I moved to Canada and could start celebrating, I desperately had to hold myself back from being like Fez in That 70s Show and ending up trick-or-treating as someone clearly too old to. 

“they give you candy?”

Instead, I dove into party town. My first Halloween was spent dressing up with the first friend I made in Canada who remains a friend to this day. A friend who I have since laughed with about our love/lust/longing for each other that neither of us acted on… kind of.

She and I spent so much time together, almost every day, so Halloween was no exception. We got ready together, we had pre-drinks together, she told me if neither of us met anyone that night to hook up with we should just go home together and I nervously laughed, not sure whether to take her seriously and not sure what to do with those feelings I couldn’t squash that wanted to just skip the going out at all and stay there with her on the couch all night, and not knowing what to do with the fact that I knew if anyone paid me any attention whatsoever I would be terrified. #justdemisexualthings from someone who was yet to discover the term and have her mind blown.

That night ended as most of ours did, with men throwing themselves at her and us going home separately, however almost always alone. On this Halloween, after a long night of just that, we found ourselves at our favourite 24-hour eatery for a final beer and garlic fingers (Halifax, Nova Scotia baby!) and bumping into a dreamy friend of my roommate’s. My friend was walked home by the man she had seemed to get along with most of the night, I was walked home (literally across the street) by the dreamboat and in a drunk, lusty (in hindsight very unfair manner) I kissed him. 

Then I ran upstairs after saying goodnight. 

He was everything I should want in a boyfriend. A gentleman, funny, kind, generous, caring, tall (I am tall and in my early twenties this mattered to me, okay?), long dark hair, dark brown eyes, a perfect smile, incredibly intelligent and fun to have a conversation with, curious to get to know me, a friend of my roommate’s so, therefore, I trusted him and also, therefore, I knew it would drive my roommate up the wall, who would drive me up the wall daily. But he wasn’t you-know-who and I used him, a few more times after that, even after the power of a sexy holiday costume was lost and rendered me a mere mortal. She would leave alone or with someone else at the end of the night, and I would kiss my handsome should-be crush. Like many men before and after him, I intentionally chose to have him as a crush, not developing the feelings or catching them unexpectedly and floating off swept off my feet. No. I decided “he is my crush” because he checked so many boxes and all my female friends just assumed he was because why wouldn’t he be? “He is clearly perfect and clearly into you, Lauren”. So, I assumed I should reciprocate.

I have done this a lot over the years. I catch myself doing it still now. The truth is I float on through life with no crush at all the majority of the time and that is just fine by me. Even Queer christmas was not spared from (my probably comp-het) confusion of HE MUST BE MY CRUSH that I try to unpack every day (that was always blurred with reality when intoxicated). A reality that I question more and more the longer I am sober and unpack so much of what was numbed, conformed, moulded to suit.

Halloweens that followed were a mix of screaming fights with sharp words exchanged with my Mum that stung — they still sting — I don’t even remember what I said but I have no doubt that my tongue was just as sharp, if not sharper. Halloweens that followed saw my perfect-for-then boyfriend pull my friend aside to ask “what I had taken”, purely because for the first time we didn’t drink at his pace, a normal pace, together. Instead, he joined us later and saw what I was like when I drank at my own pace, which was usually who I was once he left and went home. Halloweens that followed saw me drag myself to parties even when I had spent the day in bed with what was clearly a very seasonal and drastic flu, unable to miss any of the fun and any excuse to drink while dressed up. Halloweens that followed saw me through the stages of “only one person allowed in my home”, and letting that turn into spending the next day in bed until 7pm unable to move, feeling regret that the cat in my care had done nothing but sleep all day with no attention, and shame for the noise complaints received, the broken glasses, the mess, the damage done to my things and to my body and the fact that I considered that so much fun at the time. Halloweens that followed saw me dominate every conversation to the point that I was repulsed by myself for days at the memory. Halloweens that followed saw me say things I shouldn’t or share things I was trusted not to or give terrible advice when not asked for it. They also saw laughs with friends and the handing out of candy to adorable children and exciting costume planning… but none of that really mattered to me then because none of that was what I remembered the next day. I barely remembered anything at all.

die, die, die. I can’t 🦇 (2017)

Then came the sober Halloweens. Of which there have now been two. The first on the east coast and this year’s here on the west coast. Two very different Halloweens yet eerily similar. The other, my first time socialising in over two years, my first time at anything that resembled a party in over two years, my first time meeting new people in over two years, my first time doing any of that without liquid courage. A party that saw me naturally and unplanned, migrate to the bedroom to chat with the dog for the majority of the night, emerging at one point because I felt I should. Then soon after acknowledging it was just too damn much to be around people but still in my “we stay until the end of a party” headspace, the only one I had ever known. So I awkwardly lingered in conversations I wasn’t following, and broke away from ones spoken in French and dipped outside by the fire where it was more chill only to walk in on a couple arguing about the fact that one ordered Uber Eats without getting the other anything. Hours later than I wanted to, I kissed my furry friend goodnight and went home. 

lesbian gomez addams and a cute little ladybug hide from the party 🐞 (2021)

This year, another party with a difference, having had a year of being back in society between, a year of feeling cautiously safer to be around others with every boost, a party surrounded by strangers but also very familiar faces that I have loved for many years, another year of sobriety and leaning into myself and listening to myself between. A party where I had friends also not drinking to bond with. A party that saw me naturally and unplanned, migrate to the bedroom to chat with two friends for the majority of the night, us all emerging at one point because we felt we should, then retreating soon after as it was just too damn much to be around people. A party where those same two friends and I felt the night switch to that inevitable place every party does, that separates the all-nighters from the rest. This time, we hugged our wonderful friends and thanked them for the hospitality in their home and made our way to the elevator, grabbing a handful of chocolate from the bowl on our way. It was the perfect night.

Are you someone who struggles to leave the party when you want to out of guilt, fear of missing the fun or just awkwardness? Or are you someone who says goodnight when you are ready? Has that changed over the years?

here are three things I struggled with this week:

🛌 I struggled with the fact that I didn’t at all struggle with the fact that I napped, a lot, as I continue to recover from being unwell, and I slept in, and made time for rest and (thanks to loving advice) stocked up on my vitamins and other ways to care for myself. I just listened to my body which is refreshing, welcome and unexpected.

🌬️ Going outside #isthisseasonaldepreshsosoon?

🪴 Getting ready to say goodbye (for now) to my plant babies.

here are three blessings from this week:

🗒️ My to-do list for getting ready to relocate across the world is being achieved at a rate that feels manageable and this is actually all happening.

🧹 October was the month of purging. I shed an entire suitcase full of clothing, a stack of books, cleaned out my desk draw, started using up cosmetics and toiletries that have been lingering in the cupboard, cleared so many things from my calendar I long deemed absolutely necessary and essential, but in fact, were just pressures and guilts (self-inflicted mostly) and declined invitations to social events and meetings that were not crucial or a priority. The results have been amazing. There are ACTUAL gaps in my calendar and I have already attended events or had (not needing to make) time for myself in ways I haven't been able to in so long — things I love that have been so very neglected.

🩺 Healthcare. I dedicated an entire volume to this and have mentioned it before but I will never take it for granted, ever. Healthcare workers are the biggest of blessings and access to healthcare as I have it, is magical and I am so very lucky. This week saw my skin cleared up and the final steps to end my medication for that, it saw me boosted and flu season ready, it saw me prepared for travel and it saw it all done with the help of incredibly kind humans, a five-minute walk from my home.

here are three goals for the coming week:

🚶‍♀️ Get outside once a day (haha, please, this is actually such a task these days).

💗 Prioritise the relationships most important to me to nurture, as I choose how to spend my remaining time here in Canada (for a while) and know I owe no one anything, so anxieties to make time out of pressure from others will only stress me. I will be back. Note to self (and others): Relax.

🧘 Reintroduce yoga into my mornings (gently) as I regain my strength.

here is something I enjoyed this week: 

MY DAMN SELF CAPTURED BY MY OH-SO-TALENTED FRIEND, SKYE PORTMAN!!!

skyeoftheportman

A post shared by Skye (@skyeoftheportman)

skyeoftheportman

A post shared by Skye (@skyeoftheportman)

pics or it didn’t happen:

max likes your yabbos. in fact, he loves them. (technically should have been last week’s pic but I was not in the substacking state)

I love you,

LD

xoxo

*intentional capitalization of Queer and not christmas due to recovering from my catholic (another intentional little “c”) past, a story for another time