Two years ago I wrote a blog about 19 Things I wish I’d known about moving to Newfoundland. The response was overwhelming. Every so often I go back and read that list. Do I stand by those? For the most part. However, I’ve gotten to know this province much better. I like to think I'm over the “honeymoon stage.”
I love this land. Every morning I wake up and can’t believe it’s my home. It might have something to do with the view from my living room, but I think it’s more than that. I walk through the woods and feel a sense of security that I often crave. I stand by the ocean when I’m not okay and breathe in the salty air. I watch the waves crash against the shore and draw a strange sort of strength from the thundering sound.
Sometimes I go to Signal Hill and laugh at myself as I look for “Sex” written in the twinkling lights. I always hunt for my old apartment and think about my year living downtown. A year where I soaked in the music, food, and drained my bank account.
Every Saturday of the tourist season I sit in the waterShed and drink my favourite coffee and drive the staff crazy with endless chatter.
But that’s seeing the province through rose coloured glasses. My roommate moved out this month, and the thought of paying all my bills makes me feel sick in my stomach because it will mean taking money from my emergency fund. Even if it's only something I have to do for one month, it's taking away from another time I'll probably need it more. Each time I touch the thermostat, my mind drifts to what it will cost me next year when the rate hikes kick in.
When I gas up my car, I cringe and remind myself to do as many things as I can in town so I don’t have to waste gas on a trip back. My variable mortgage makes me stay up at night and I wonder why in the world my mortgage broker told me it was a good idea.
My twitter feed is filled with people talking about leaving. I read the articles about the state we’re in. They’re void of hope-- but I make myself read them because I want to be realistic. With every single friend I make, I remind myself not to get too attached, because they might leave like most of those who did this summer.
I don’t go downtown or eat out like I used to. When I buy food from a restaurant now, it’s usually using money out of a toonie jar I’ve set aside. In the last month I’ve gotten into the habit of buying a loaf of bread for PB&J sandwiches at work, and massive amounts of chicken at Costco, so I can cook for the week at cheap prices. It's not that I can't afford anything else, it's that I know worse times might be coming.
In fact, I messaged someone last night and asked them if they ever go really worried about becoming a homeowner in a time that people say we should leave. They talked sense into me. They’re a loyal Newfoundlander, and have far more ties to this land than I do, but they made their point.
It’s an island of fighters. People who made it work even though all the odds are against us. Maybe that’s why I love it.
And you know what? I’m lucky. I have a steady employment that I believe will last. I’m getting raises each year. The fact that I was able to get a house at my age is a bloody miracle. I am by no means poor, and I definitely still splurge on things and treats I love, but don't need, like ice-cream, and gifts for people I love.
Still, doubt creeps in. Why stay? Why stay on an isolated island where I give up things I could easily get on the Mainland for much cheaper? Why stay when getting off this island costs so much more than anywhere else. (I used to get in my car and drive to Montreal for less than a ticket to Halifax.)
And the answer is simply because I can and because I love it. I realize that many my age don’t have a job like mine, and if they do, it’s not what they want to be doing. I understand why they do and will leave. I'll never judge their decisions.
Newfoundland is where I was diagnosed and given help. A family doctor is different to find in Nova Scotia. I had one here as soon as I started looking. It’s the place I feel safe in. Newfoundland gave me Jean.
It’s the place where I walk the streets and smile because the brightly coloured houses cheer me up in the fog and rain. It’s the place that taught me not to let the weather keep me from going out. It’s the place that taught me how to budget. It’s the place I found friends who would open my mind to more ideas.
It’s the place I most recently learned how to be myself. For three years, inch by inch, I’ve been figuring out who I am. When I got scared of who that was, I’d run to the ocean or The Shoe and try and come to terms with it. It’s been tough, and hard, and filled with pain. But you know what? On Sunday evening someone said to me:
“You’re so honest and open now, Kris.”
Maybe those rose coloured glasses are still on. Maybe in five years I won’t be able to financially swing it and instead of a honeymoon, there will be a divorce. Who really knows?
All I know is that right now, I plan to love and live in this land for the long haul.
I’m grateful to be here.
