Many people say how much they love adventure, how much they just love spontaneity. I’m sure they do. To a point, I do as well. But if we’re being honest, I’m not that big on change. The first night I moved into my dorm when I moved a mere hour and a half away to college, I cried. It was a change, and it was hard for me.

At the beginning of last week, I would have told you that I had my upcoming trip to Toronto all planned out. I would’ve said that other than a couple small things, it was done. All that needed to happen was for time to pass and for me to actually get on a plane and go. Not so anymore. Without going into too much detail, a rather large shift is happening the first half of the trip. I have to do something that I originally had not planned on doing. I’m going to admit that even after figuring out how to handle this shift, I was angry. After the initial phone conversation, I actually threw my phone (into a pillow, mind you). I was so incredibly angry that it took me longer than normal to let it go. God, I was furious. But it took another stunning conversation to make me question my anger and figure out what and who I was really mad at.

On Saturday, I had a Skype date with my best friend Eileen who is currently in London. Other than this immediate past event, she’s kind of up to date on everything. Naturally, we start talking about this trip to Toronto, and I mention my anxiety about it. It’s been progressively building and when there’s two anxious people in an equation, the outcome can be very negative. And I’ve steadily been realizing this, especially after this news that I’ve received. Without her knowing any details, Eileen asks me what I would be feeling if the situation was reversed: if I was being visited in Orlando instead of going to Toronto, how anxious would I be? My answer was to the effect of: yeah. Pretty damn anxious. I see your point.

So Eileen and I continue our Skype conversation, moving on to other things and basically planning her month long sabbatical back to Orlando in August (i.e. Disney, the beach, her birthday). My brain is still going over the first part of the conversation though, and eventually when we hang up, my mind settles into a startling realization. Suddenly, there is nothing resembling anger or frustration anymore. Nothing. All there is is the knowledge that I have reacted abominably. I’d behaved like a 6 year old who didn’t get exactly what they’d wanted, and I was ashamed of that. I just don’t react well to change, no matter how old I get. How could I continue to consider myself a friend when I was so incredibly inconsiderate? What had it cost them to tell me in the first place? A lot, I’m sure. They must already be under an intense amount of anxiety and pressure and I literally did nothing to help.

Just thinking about that conversation on Thursday and how I was such a childish piece of shit to a really good friend makes me angry at myself now. Tickets to a Jays game do not even begin to make up for it. But you can’t buy your way out of something like this. The only thing I can do is to reassure them that I’m not angry, frustrated, disappointed, or any conceivable negative emotion. At all.

At the time of this being published, in approximately 3 weeks, 0 days, and 6 hours, I’ll be in the True North. Until then, friends. -L

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