unless i am myself, i am nobody

This is my first summer in Vancouver.

Now before you start commenting on this and asking me “what the flying f are you talking about Naomi,” given that I’ve indeed lived in Vancouver for almost six years, please give me the chance to elaborate.

This is my first summer in Vancouver that is truly my own.

Let me take you back almost six years ago…

I moved here in the fall of 2020. Yep. Absolutely smack dab in the middle of the worst part of the pandemic.

Looking back now, I’m not sure what the hell I was thinking.

Well that’s not true. I knew what I was thinking: BC was more open than Ontario, I had a few close friends out here, I was struggling to assimilate back into living with my family after four years at university in Halifax, I needed independence again, and I had always alwayssss wanted to live out west.

But I mean, given the same circumstances now, I’m not sure I would have made that same decision to move. Call it frontal lobe development I guess.

I started working in the film industry almost immediately upon arriving in Vancouver, thanks to a mutual friend who got me a job as a COVID PA. Basically I was a glorified hall monitor. I got paid $350 a day to walk 20K steps and occasionally tell someone to pull their mask up over their nose.

I also delivered mouthwash to Ryan Reynolds and helped Mark Ruffalo sanitize his hands, but I digress. Crazy times.

That job kept me busy and carried me through my first winter in Vancouver. Then spring.

Then summer came, and I quit film to study for my MCAT. Shortly after that, I met the person who would become my partner for the next four years, until our split in the winter of 2025.

That summer, the one when I was studying for MCAT, was my first BC summer. My first summer in Vancouver.

I spent it falling in love. I spent it being shown around by someone who had already lived here for seven, maybe eight years at the time. I spent it melding myself into his life and his friendships and his lifestyle.

His spots became our spots.

His hikes became our hikes.

His favourite restaurants became our favourite restaurants.

His evening routines became ours.

And because I didn’t really have anything of my own here yet, it was a lot easier to just let those shared things become my things too. I didn’t spend a lot of time finding things that were just for me.

Now we all know how famous Vancouver is for offering you the summer of your life. A BC summer is like no other. And I can’t really explain it, either. You just have to come out here and experience it for yourself.

But I’ve never really known what it’s like to have my own summer here in Vancouver, one without the influence of the way someone else sees this city. Until now.

Now, if you’ve been following along closely enough, I bet you’re starting to connect the dots and thinking, “waiiiiit a sec, if you broke up in winter 2025, wouldn’t that make last summer your first summer alone in Vancouver?”

And you would be completely right.

Except that last summer, still reeling from my breakup and attempting escape from the most toxic roommate situation of humanity (by the end, she had stolen the batteries out of my appliances and I was sleeping with my desk in front of my door for fear of being attacked), was probably the most stressful summer of my entire life. And I honestly don’t remember most of it because of that fact. Thank you to trauma brain for protecting me with your forgetfulness <3

Last summer was a rebuild season. I was just trying to stay afloat. I became a shell of myself, both physically and mentally. All you have to do is look through my old fit pics from last year (collected in a highlight on my personal IG) to see how hard it was — I was tiny, swimming in my clothes, and withering away.

This summer, on the other hand, I’m entering the longer days with a clear mind. A stronger body. A healed heart. More clarity in my future. More free time in my day, thank you to immense growth in my work. More confidence in myself, thank you to supremely painful (and rewarding) personal work.

More bbqs. More dinner parties. More friends that are completely my own, because I’m finally reaping the benefits of the village I’ve worked so hard to cultivate in this city.

More solo camping trips, because I finally feel comfortable being in the woods by myself. More plans just for me.

I remember how I felt that summer five years ago. I remember entering the relationship somewhat reluctantly, at least at first.

I remember thinking that I didn’t really want a boyfriend at the time. I wanted a hot girl summer (yeah, we were saying that unironically back then). I wanted to spend more time building my own life, without the influence of a relationship.

But falling in love doesn’t wait for you to be ready for it. It just happens. And I surrendered, and thus found myself in a long-term partnership.

I have no regrets by the way, and as much as I shit talk that relationship, I do not regret entering it by any means. If I hadn’t, I would not be the person I am today. I wouldn’t feel as happy as I do right now, in this very moment, at 10:46pm on a Tuesday, writing this alone on the seawall after my post-bike ride ice cream cone.

As cheesy and probably annoying and insufferable as it sounds, I am the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.

Being a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) means that I feel things very deeply. The stereotype is that HSPs are sad and emo and crying all the time. But that’s not true. Feeling deeply includes the good things too, and it’s one of my favourite things about being sensitive.

I truly feel like my joy is spilling over and gushing onto these pages. Every day feels colourful and vibrant and warm. And yes, I do realize how manic that sounds.

Each month, for the last eight or so months, I’ve reflected back on the previous one and declared it my happiest month to date. And it just keeps happening. Again and again and again, I keep having the best months of my life.

And I feel very strongly that I’m about to have the best summer of my life, knowing that I am experiencing it completely alone. Completely myself.

In many ways, I feel like this is the summer I was supposed to have five years ago. The one without any pandemic closures or nerves of a new relationship. Nobody else’s personality bleeding into my own. Nobody else’s decisions or plans influencing or overshadowing mine. Nobody to use as a crutch to keep from experiencing the inevitable discomfort of putting down roots in a new place.

Literally nothing except me.

Gosh, I know right? When will this b**** shut up about her freaking breakup already!!! Move on!!!

Yeah, I feel like I’ve been talking about last year’s breakup on here for way too long. It feels like eons.

I’m sure, to the judging eye, I appear to be stuck on it. Still at the restaurant (my fellow Swifties know what I mean by that).

I guess in some ways I am, in the sense that I do think about it from time to time. I reflect back on what I was doing two years ago, or three, or four, or five, when I was with that person. I still remember what it was like to be with them, to be in love, and to then fall out of it. These days, I sometimes find myself thinking about my happiness then and comparing it to my happiness now. Or occasionally letting my mind wander and wonder what I’d be doing differently now if things had gone in a different direction. So I guess I am stuck on it. But, to contradict myself in the same paragraph, does moving on from something mean that it never crosses your mind again?

As big moments and milestones continue to happen in my life, I spend them reflecting on what I was doing the year prior. I’ve always done that.

Every Christmas, I think about what I was doing during the previous one. Every November, I think about who attended my birthday party the previous year. Every September, I think about my university and high school days, and remember what it felt like to go back to school.

I guess I still think about my breakup sometimes because a year ago, I was thinking about my breakup.

I’ve never really known what it’s like to just be happy in Vancouver, as myself. This is the first summer I’m getting to do that.

And I’m hoping, with the passing of this summer, with the experience of it completely by myself, that I’ll be able to stop relating so many things in my life to that relationship, because my life will become much bigger than it ever was.

Looking back on my writing from even just a year ago (check that out below), I know that it already is. This time next year, I’ll be thinking about my insufferably happy summer of 2026. And you’ll all be like, “holy shit can this girl ever stfu about summer 2026???”

This is my first summer in Vancouver, because it’s the first summer here that I feel proud of my work. The first summer here that I feel grounded in my hobbies and confident hiking alone and taking my own little camping trips around the province. The first summer here that I feel unconditionally loved by the people around me. The first summer that I’m not riddled with anxiety or uncertainty in the quiet*, in-between moments of my schedule. The first summer that I’m not waiting for someone to come save me or take charge of my day for me. The first summer that I’m not questioning my worth. The first summer that I feel unapologetically, authentically, and wholly myself.

*not written by chat gpt, despite the use of the word “quiet” that AI writing seems to be obsessed with. promise!!!

I hope you feel that way about yourself, too. And if you don’t, I wonder what you can do to make this summer (and this life) a little more your own.

I love you guys. Thank you for reading my writing, which is basically like reading my heart bleeding out on the pages.

With love,

Naomi

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I’m a Registered Holistic Nutritionist & writer based in Vancouver, BC who helps you change your life by changing what you eat. You can learn more about me here.