The Bloody Doors Off

A quick aside: I either can’t make pita wraps or the pita was too thick. Damn what a mess.

Today’s been a good day, despite my suspicions to the opposite.

Got up at 10am. Wanted to be up at 9, or 9:30 at the latest. I’m really trying to build a new schedule. I’m able to climb into bed around midnight (the sleeping pill helps; hell, it’s always helped and has needed to help, I just usually put it off until 2am or when I felt guilty for still being awake). But waking up earlier still escapes me. I realize it’s just a matter of time, establishing the routine. I’m not giving up on this; but some mornings can be discouraging.

My new roommate came by early this afternoon to drop off an inflatable mattress as an interim sleeping choice until he can get the rest of his stuff moved in. He’s not in a rush, and honestly that made me feel better. I was a bit anxious, and that’s totally on me. The last roommate situation did not work out and I’m worried that I could be a problem, especially given recent events. But again, my worries were for naught. I think this is going to be a good fit.

Then I met up with my friend Cat for a walk. I recognize that I need to be more active; one of my brothers has suggested looking into programs at CAMH (good idea) and a dear friend recommends volunteering (another excellent idea). I feel like I’m taking baby steps back into the world right now. I recognized on Saturday that I’m good in small social situations and need to work up to larger social interactions, which may require being in a larger social setting.

Back to the walk.

So, Cat and I met up in the Riverdale area, and she led me to Riverdale Farm (which I knew existed but had never really visited). It’s open to the public (they ask for donations) and I was surprised (and yet not) to only see a couple of lambs and a cow there (yes a cow, not a horse. For the one person who may read this, that joke’s for you.)

But then I noticed a building across the street; it looked like a church (turned out it was, a teeny church). And there was a wooden archway to the right, that led to a cemetery.

And that’s how I discovered Toronto’s Necropolis.

In my youth, I’ve walked Mount Pleasant Cemetery (my grandparents on my dad’s side, and great-aunt and great-uncle are buried there). I’ll admit to even hopping the fence in the dead of night with a girl I had a crush on. (Story, perhaps, for another time.) And in my travels, New Orleans and Athens for example, I’ve visited sites there. But never had I been to the Necropolis. Hell, I didn’t even know it existed, let alone was Toronto’s oldest cemetery.

The varied tombstones, the craftsmanship. Seeing stone mason symbols carved in some of them (including a merging of the stone mason and cross inside the church…) And the fall colours. Holy shit. It took my breath away. The history of the city, some of the founders are buried there. And on our way out? We found Jack Layton’s grave. That brought me a good mix of emotions.

A great walk with a good friend, and a pleasant reminder of why it’s good to be alive.