On Sunday, my parents came from Montreal to pick up some of my things, and well, to take my cat Cléo. I found Cléo five years ago, during a cold month of January, and it took her years to get accustomed and to even warm up to me, and so it broke my heart having to give her away. I know my parents will take good care of her, and she will probably be happier in a house where people are actually there most of the time, but the fact that she doesn’t realize what is going on just made it very hard for me to say goodbye. She first resisted getting into her crate, her heart beating fast, but then I held her (all that while bawling like a child) and comforted her, and so she went in without resistance. The simple fact that she is vulnerable to whatever a human may decide for her makes me sad. Now I’m sitting in my apartment, which at this point has no curtains, no decorations, no couch, or living room set…The view leaves me feeling desolate. I catch glimpses of my cat’s hair on the glass table I’m sitting at, and I don’t even want to clean it, out of attachment I suppose.
I know that moving away is my decision, and I know that it is the right decision for me, but I cannot help but to feel how I feel at the moment. I didn’t even realize I had all these mixed emotions, until today. On Friday I had a terrible unexplained panic attack, which prompted me to call the paramedics, as I seriously thought I was going to drop dead. After taking all my vital signs, they had no physical explanation for me. It is scary how much we guard repressed. My roommate kept telling me “you have a lot going on, it’s normal that you’re feeling anxious.” But my response was “I am not feeling anxious about the move at all!” Up until yesterday, when I broke down with the departure of my cat. Suddenly, I felt sad about a lot of other things too: I felt sad that after 5 years of living with my roommate, these were our final few weeks, I felt sad that I am leaving my friends behind, I felt sad that I have to put a stop on new friendships that were developing into close friendships, I felt sad about the fact that I have less than a month left in this city, I felt sad that I most likely won’t get to see my aunt again before leaving, or that I most likely said my final goodbye to Lau last weekend.
Suddenly, everything concretized itself: I am going away, and although I know deep down I am excited and happy about it, I’m also contradictory equally sad. I always knew I was the nostalgic type, I have predicted this reaction a long time ago, even when I first decided to move, but I didn’t think it would be before I would actually be abroad. There is nothing more human than that: self-contradiction, seeing charm in everything during its last moments and mourning routine.