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Writer's pictureMorgan Tessier

Moving On and Getting Older

Updated: Jan 11, 2020



I've always been told I looked young for my age. Whether it's from the silent (yet skeptical) eyes checking my ID at the LCBO, or from my mom's friends telling me I'll appreciate the baby face at 40, my youthful look is always said to be a good thing.


Some mornings, when washing my face, I stare a little too long in the mirror. My face becomes two conflicting worlds; wrinkles mix in with onset adult acne and I wonder which drug store product will combat both. My body creaks in new ways, and a morning stretch doesn't cut it anymore.


I go for runs and walk my 10,000 steps, eat a vegetable in between Beyond Meat Burgers and limit my alcohol intake depending on how early I need to wake up in the morning. It's not perfect, but it's a system.


However, as I deal with my back pain and face-related issues, quiet bells ring a little louder in the back of my head. My mind feels foggy more often, my vision clouded by forgetting instead of cataracts. I've made excuses in the past, like "I'm bad with names" or "I'll say happy birthday eventually, it's just a day late!" There's just so many things to remember and I always end up forgetting the most important ones, and I'm afraid of how this will impact my relationships.


As we age, friendships stretch further and further apart. I have friends in BC, Alberta, England, and scattered throughout Ontario. It could be a months in-between conversations, but normally things pick-up where they were left off. Should be easy, right?


Except it's not. Life (shockingly) happens in the time spent apart; there's heartbreak, loss, family tragedy, and mental health struggles. People buy houses, get pets, change jobs, find new music, movies, grocery stores etc. How can I stop the physical distance from creating an emotional one? What if one day I look at my friends and realize I don't know them like I want to anymore?


I crave closeness; I throw myself into relationships with people I can take the subway to see. It's easier, maintaining friendships with someone who lives down the street. But lord does it ever make me a bad friend. Distance is a two way street and I never feel like I do enough to meet people in the middle. It's been one of the biggest challenges I've faced since moving away, and I've lost friends because I can't get this whole thing called life together.



I miss people easily. It hurts being apart. But it hurts more knowing that I've let someone down. Distance is difficult; no one said I had to be perfect at it. But as I grow older and stare at my face in the mirror day after day, I want to be proud of the person I'm looking at.




Not proud appearance-wise, career-wise, material-wise, but proud of the person I am to other people. I want to be a phone-call in the night kind of friend, an "I'm lost in the city and need someone to talk to for 3 hours" kind of friend. I want to be at the weddings, house-warmings, and baby showers for the people who have cared about me for more years than I can count. They deserve someone who remembers their birthday, who takes time to ask about what movies they've watched lately; they deserve someone I want to be.


Hug your siblings, text your parents, make sure your friends feel heard. It's all a two-way street; you won't always meet in the middle, but just make sure you're meeting.

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