I’ve been procrastinating big time when it comes to writing another post but I’m really excited to get in the habit of posting more regularly now that I’m in a new place again, making another home. But I’m taking it slower than usual.

I’m somewhere old, somewhere new. And I feel like I’m experiencing myself as someone old and someone new at the same time.

The photo above is one I took about 5 homes ago, in the room which was mine.

Each time I move to a new place one of my fears is that I will isolate myself physically in the new space. It’s like I have anxiety about leaving the house but once I figure out a walking route in my new neighbourhood I’m basically set. Because I know how to move my body in this new space.

Sometimes I think I have too many things (mostly just too many art supplies) but when I see a photo like this I’m reminded of how beautiful and creative my things make me feel. Most of the items in this photo are back in Ontario because I couldn’t drive out West with a lot of stuff. But I miss that lamp. And that little bedside dresser. Both of which came from the end of peoples driveways. I miss my plants.

I’m excited to have things of my own left on tables and window sills again. Right now I constantly prefer to declutter and keep my space organized because it is a shared space. Not solely mine.

I look back on a photo like this and I am so proud of myself for all of the ways I’ve inhabited spaces. I’m so grateful for all of the rooms I have been able to sleep, sing, cry, journal and laugh in.

There have been a lot of winter mornings spent in cold rooms - mornings where I wake up and the thought of coffee with my roommates is the only thing that gets me out of bed.

There have been moments since I got out here where I feel so afraid that I’m going to feel the same way I did 9 years ago when I first moved here for school. I’ve been so afraid of making the same mistakes. I’ve been internally bludgeoning myself when old ideas/behaviours/thought patterns resurface. Ones that feel like they should be history already. But we are creatures of habit and I need to be more graceful with old, new Han.

There are moments where I feel scared still but mostly there have been a lot of moments where I feel astounded at how good it feels to be alive. When I’m alone, when I’m with people, when I’m doing laundry or making coffee. When I’m on a walk, with someone or alone. I feel proud of how far I’ve come.

It feels a little odd to write about making a home somewhere new when it seems like so many people in the world are displaced right now. It’s a privilege to move simply because I wanted to and I’m not going to take it for granted.

I’m going to find all of the paths and places to walk.