53: The source - Part 1

A forgotten moment now remembered for always

Five minutes of talking was all that was needed to relay a life-changing event that I had forgotten about—we might now say buried or repressed—for roughly a dozen years. It had just poof! disappeared into a part of my brain, and then randomly reappeared one night.

It is only within the last few years, more than two decades after the reappearance, that I view the event as one that had an undeniable impact on my emotional health and shaping who I’ve become. The source of some of my most problematic facets. It is only within the last few years that I might let you call it a moment of trauma. The car wreck will only live on as a harrowing adventure, while this moment seeped in and silently twisted my brain.

Unpacking the memory has shockingly never brought anger. Instead, I’ve only had lightbulb moments of self awareness. The lack of anger and resentment has been a relief given how easily I can feel it. What I haven’t gotten relief from is wondering if this was ultimately the source of my unrelenting despondency.

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Winter 2002. Toronto.

The city was just getting out of a weeklong snowstorm. It was my first experience of just how bad winter in Mid-Atlantic Canada/USA could be. It laid the foundation for my belief that albeit much less lengthy, winters in this part of North America are more difficult and annoying than the forever-long dry winters of a place like Edmonton. The humidity can feel worse than a wind chill; a larger amount of snow in a shorter amount of time wreaks much more havoc; and the infrastructure (the insulation!) is not built for half the year being cold, so when it is cold, you feel colder.

Anyway. We were in the car, my boyfriend and me, making our way to an Indian restaurant to pick up some takeout after just watching a movie. After a few days of heavy snowfall and the city basically shutting down, exiting hibernation was possible and streets were safe for driving. Leaving a home pod of comfort for the cinema pod of comfort for a matinee was an easy choice during Oscar season.

As he drove up Yonge Street, the story just bubbled up.