THE CATALYST

I remember being back in high school when friends around me started losing their grandparents to sickness and old age. I felt so fortunate for the fact that I had never lost someone close to me. I was the only kid I knew that not only had all four of their grandparents still around, I actually had five.
 
Then my Dad my got sick.
 
He was diagnosed with cancer when I was in my early 20’s, and within a year and a half, we lost him.
 
I was a wreck to say the least.
Saying we were close doesn’t cover it. We shared a personality.
 
Shortly after losing my Dad, I planned a trip to Southeast Asia. I had time off from both school and work, so I was able to go for a couple months.
 
I spent that time in Thailand and quickly fell in love.
 
Of course, the country is beautiful.  Nothing tops the coasts of Thailand in my books, despite some of the stunning sights I’ve seen.

It was more than beauty though. The lifestyle there seemed simple and slow paced. The people were warm, friendly, and relaxed…the opposite of how things felt back in Toronto.
 
At the end of the trip, I spent the plane ride home in tears. Likely in part because I knew I was going back to face real life without my Dad, but also because of what I was leaving behind. I vowed to go back for longer next time – maybe a year or two, to get a better taste for life in Thailand and see if it suited me.
 
As time has gone by however, I’ve settled deeper into city life.
 
I have a good job in the tech scene that pays enough money for me to second guess walking away. I have a partner who grew up here and we have his family in close proximity. And we both have ample job prospects, here in the startup capital of Canada.
 
Everything in my logical brain tells me I’d be wrong to leave this city.
But the longer I stay, the more I feel like I’m missing out on the life I’m meant to live.

Toronto has been great to me. But ultimately, we aren’t a good fit. It’s busy, loud, and fast paced. The air quality sucks and it’s hard to build connections when you didn’t grow up here. Everyday life, for me, is accessorized with dull but persistent anxiety. I hold a constant knot in my chest, always aware of the next thing I have to do or place I need to go. I found out recently that I have high blood pressure, which could be hereditary but sure feels like it’s exacerbated by life in this metropolitan city.
 
When my Dad was alive, he had this dream to move to the country and live in an old stone house. He eventually made it happen but only got to enjoy it for a couple years before he passed.

Life’s too short.
It’s too short to spend eight hours of my day in meetings discussing company strategy or sitting behind a computer screen checking off tasks.

I took a job so I could make money to cover my expenses. But I’d rather lower my expenses if it means gaining back some of my freedom.

I genuinely believe in the mission of the company I work for. Collectively, we’re making the world a better place.
But this company can still achieve this mission without me.
 
So here I am.
Figuring out how to pack up my life and move it out to the countryside. I’ll be looking to build a small homestead and find work that is both meaningful and enjoyable. Along with discovering what I want to do for work in the coming years, this adventure will have me re-evaluating how I spend my hard-earned money, and the environmental footprint I’m leaving behind.

To me, these are the things that matter.