In a previous post, I explained the various complexities I faced when growing up, including the dynamic between me and my parents – particularly my father – and how that created an environment that essentially guaranteed I wouldn’t be able to truly relax. It was my time in college that would ultimately lead to me seeing my value and finding peace – in a sense, I would feel most at home on campus. However, right out of the gate, my studies came with an additional challenge: how far I lived. I briefly mentioned this in past articles, but I’ll make it abundantly clear in this post: put simply, I didn’t drive, so it would take me anywhere from 1.5 to 2.5 hours to get to school, and another 1.5 to 2.5 hours to head back. I had two public transportation options – three buses, or, two buses and the metro. Both were bad – I just had to choose the lesser of two evils depending on the timing. (I’ll write a post in the future that explores why I didn’t have a driver’s license and why I didn’t drive – there’s a story behind that.)
If you imagine a typical college schedule, where classes were usually scheduled between 8am and 6pm, this meant that when I left my parents’ place in the morning, it was dark outside. And when I got home at night, still dark. Now, of course, I was a computer nerd, so I mostly spent time indoors staring at glowing monitors. To me, sunlight could have easily been defined as “that which makes a monitor hard to see”. But even then, I could feel that the overall lack of sunlight was a problem – sometimes, the sun is precisely what’s missing. Thankfully, there were some semesters where one of my high school friends would have a day in his schedule where he started at the same time as me, so he’d invite me to join him as he drove to school – it only took 45 minutes by car. That was certainly appreciated. At school, I also had some teachers who understood exactly how far I travelled to get to the college – and if they knew I only had one lab on a given day, they would tolerate me skipping the lab on account of the knowledge I demonstrated while I was in class.
Suffice it to say… I was enduring a grueling amount of transportation time. I remember at one point, near the end of my studies, I thought it’d be interesting to calculate how much of my life I had spent in transportation while pursuing my college education. It totaled up to around 6 months of public transit time. Absolute madness. You might think, well, listen, with that much time in public transportation, at least you’d be able to get plenty of sleep in. Yeah… about that… I always struggled to sleep in cars, buses, planes, you name it. I’m just far too aware of my surroundings and as a result, I generally have difficulty dozing off. Instead I relied on music, my thoughts – I couldn’t read because if I did, I’d usually get car sick.
Add on the troubles at home, and you can probably understand why I developed a tendency to stay up late to compensate for how little time I had for leisure. My studies also suffered as I certainly didn’t want to spend the little time I had studying. This led to sleep deprivation, there’s no better way to describe it – and I couldn’t sleep in transport, so I would simply be tired most of the time. I remember one specific evening where I was so particularly exhausted, sitting in a dark bus, listening to the album The End of All Things to Come by Mudvayne, one of my favorite nu metal bands. I had heard their album many times before, but in my fatigued state, I had a brief moment where I thought I was hearing voices. I remember pulling off my headset and waiting a bit as a sanity check, but deep down, I knew that it was simply my tired mind starting to blend reality with the music – and if you’ve heard a Mudvayne song before, you’d probably understand – they have a particularly unique vocal style.
So that was my day-to-day life. I had good base Computer Science skills but continued to struggle grade-wise, especially in unrelated courses – I only had so much energy I could give. As you might imagine, this meant things were only getting worse at home. Then, out of nowhere, at the age of 19, I was given a golden opportunity – a chance to escape what had grown to be a highly oppressive home environment, and, on top of that… the possibility of an 8-minute walk from the college. Eight. Minutes. A classmate that was in my program said that he was looking for a roommate, and that if I was interested, he could potentially get me a job interview as well. I took the leap, got the job, and confirmed that I would be moving into the apartment. I also made a vow that I would never return to live with my parents.
So I packed up my belongings and moved into the apartment with the help of my mother, and proceeded to work my new job during the summer. I didn’t have any appliances or anything, but my roommate already had his own, so I didn’t need to purchase anything. While it was initially a bit of a shock, in terms of how it disturbed my norm, I would soon discover that the decision was a truly life-changing event. At school, I felt valued and respected, to the point where I considered school my home – that’s where I felt most at peace. But now I was living in an apartment, where I discovered what it was like to feel at peace at home as well, which made my life incredibly enjoyable and relaxing. Also, need I say it again? A 1.5 to 2.5 hour commute reduced to an 8-minute casual stroll. Can you imagine? I had so much more time to work with! Life was good.
I still have such fond memories of that apartment. One of my earliest is that I watched all available seasons of Scrubs, a comedy-drama series that I thoroughly enjoyed. It was light, silly, and yet, had emotional depth. I still remember how incredibly refreshing it was to be so completely free of judgement and criticism as I watched it over a few weeks. And that’s the thing, it was the complete opposite of the life I had known – relaxing, rejuvenating. The environment itself even contributed to the mood – for example, we had a Jamaican neighbor that loved to play Reggae loud, most evenings – the walls would pulse due to the bass. Though we weren’t especially into that style of music, we didn’t dislike it – it gave our apartment a certain party atmosphere and we liked that the guy was having a good time next door. Our apartment was also close to the Montreal metro system – so we had no problem pursuing our studies while enjoying what the city had to offer.
And then there was my roommate, a fellow gamer – he was a nice guy. We were part of the same Computer Science program, but we differed a bit in our interests. For example, he occasionally liked to paint Warhammer figurines, something I’d had no interest or experience with. He also liked to invite his friends over to play Dungeons & Dragons, where he would be the dungeon master in most cases. This is where I would hear people speaking in character voices, wearing light costumes, things like that – I’ll admit, at the time, it really weirded me out. Later in life, I came to understand and respect Dungeons & Dragons, and I do credit my roommate for providing me with a bit of exposure therapy at this stage of my life. Who knew… later on, I’d promote it shamelessly.
Of course, living with a roommate was not without challenges. We had moments where we had disagreements – for example, one day I got home and the entire apartment smelled like paint because he spent the day spray-painting Warhammer figurines indoors with little ventilation. In that instance, I remember that he genuinely apologized, realizing that from my perspective, it wasn’t a fun thing to come home to after a long day of work. There were other moments where we didn’t quite reach an understanding, but overall, looking back, I can confirm that he was a good guy. And, to be fair, I had come from such a dysfunctional home environment that I think it’s highly likely that I overreacted in some cases.
Which brings me to this one particular day where, out of nowhere, it seemed, my roommate let me know that he had succeeded in finding someone to take over my part of the lease, and that they would be moving in July 1st. I was completely stunned when he told me this, for two reasons. One, because there were only two weeks left until July 1st, and two, because I had forgotten that in a heated moment, I had said something to the effect that I wanted to move out and into my own place. I explained that I had said that in specific context and that I had since cooled down – I hadn’t actually meant it. He replied that he thought I was serious about it, and that now he had promised my spot to someone else. Ultimately, I conceded that he had done nothing wrong, and it was my fault for not having controlled my words, which clearly, had consequences.
I still remember exactly where I was in the apartment that day he told me – that’s how much it shocked me. I knew that I would never allow myself to return to living with my parents, having since discovered what true peace was – and yet, there I was with two weeks between me and oblivion. I mentioned to my roommate that I needed some time to figure out what I would do next, and stepped aside to collect my thoughts. During that time, I googled for potential apartments for rent and considered how I might approach the whole endeavor while having only limited time to solve the problem. I didn’t drive, own a car, or have any means of transportation other than my legs – my finances were also limited.
After some time, I emerged from my bedroom and approached my roommate – I told him that while the timeframe was tight, if he wouldn’t mind my using his bike, I would have an easier time going around looking for “For Rent” signs near my college. He graciously agreed and with that, I felt I had a fighting chance at finding an apartment.
The fear was motivating, I tell you. I desperately wanted to maintain my independence and succeed at this task, and so I worked at it hard. I made the process into a job, basically – search for apartments, make some calls, book visits. Drive around on my bike, look for places that had for rent signs, take note of the numbers. Back then, I didn’t even have a mobile phone, I was still using a landline – so literally I would scribble down the numbers I collected onto a notepad, including the address, and would later organize the information and make my calls.
I remember facing a lot of skepticism from landlords when they realized exactly how young I was, 20, and showing up alone. Some places wanted me to have a co-signer (something I absolutely wanted to avoid), others politely declined, and some, as you might believe, were too expensive or in bad shape. Overall I remember the process being arduous, and with every passing day, I approached a deadline. My roommate, being the nice guy that he was, told me I could sleep on the couch if needed until I found a place – so I knew I wouldn’t be thrown to the street while the other tenant arrived, which was certainly helpful.
As I was running low on days, I called my mother and asked for help. It’s a unique feeling to ask for help from the very environment I was so eager to escape, but alas, she was willing to help and it was primarily my father I was clashing with. It was June 29th, something like that, and we were driving around looking for “For Rent” signs. This proved highly effective – of the two places we contacted, one was just one street away from my existing apartment, and when we visited it, seemed like a great fit. It had appliances included, which was important as I still had none, and plus, electricity was included in the rent, which was convenient. The presence of my mother likely helped to reassure the landlord that I wasn’t a kid off the street. The one caveat with the apartment was that the landlord requested 3 months of rent paid up front as she would be going out of the country and wouldn’t be around to collect every month. I was so grateful for the apartment that I happily provided three months rent, and beyond that, I provided her with 9 post-dated checks – each set for the first day of its month. The idea was that she could just cash these checks one at a time, and she wouldn’t even need to see me once a month for the rent.
And so it was done – I officially signed the lease on July 1st, no less. I learned that even if I was facing a time crunch, I needed to simply take a moment to breathe, to digest, de-escalate, and then apply a problem solving approach – and all would be well. Moving into that new apartment was another life-changing moment for me. It was the first time that I had my own place where all my stuff was at, that I locked up and left – and no one would access that space until I arrived to unlock the door later (you know, ideally). I had already found true peace moving out of my parents’ place and moving in with my roommate, but this new apartment, this solo living, was next level. I found that by living by myself, I was the only one responsible for the stresses that I introduced to my home. And since I was naturally a very easy-going, relaxed guy, it was as peaceful as I could have possibly hoped – such a great feeling.
I had established the most peaceful baseline possible; however, regardless of that, life still had its ups and downs. Through it all, I mostly continued to live in that specific apartment block – it became a recurring character, in many ways, and I grew to have a pretty good rapport with the landlord. At one point, I moved out, and after a tricky couple years, I found myself needing a place to stay – and knowing this, my former landlord called and let me know that another apartment had become free, and that I could move in if I wanted. I jumped at the opportunity to return to my haven of peace, and would continue to stay there until 2024 when I moved into a house with my wife. Looking back, I can’t help but feel gratitude for that building and its landlord – what a pivotal role they both played in my life.