Year-end List

Earlier this year, we opened my father's cottage a week earlier than usual, and I posted that 2012 was the year that Victoria Day came early. But it is not so much that it came early, more that it came in abundance, and in that respect it was like much else this year. I have experienced an abundance of love and a wealth of warmth this year like nothing I have ever felt before. Pretty good year, indeed.

I search for the words to describe it, and find words like landmark and monumental, but even with such grandiose adjectives I fall short. It has been a transformational year, the year I finally achieved emotional stability, the year I finally achieved emotional maturity. The year I finally grew up. The year I finally trusted myself and embraced myself. The year I finally learned how to treat other people. The year I finally recognised what truly makes me great, and the year I finally recognised the greatness in everyone.

I am eternally thankful and indebted to those who have helped me along the way. Before I identify them however, first of all I must thank myself -- for  better or worse I am the captain of this ship, and only I could have charted a new course the way I did. It was a monumental step for me to recognise that the biggest obstacle to me getting on track to being the man I wanted to be was me, and it was at least as big a challenge to act on that insight and set about making the changes I needed to make.
But after that there is a whole crew whose contributions need to be recognised and acknowledged, and in the tradition of the end-of-the-year list, I do that here:

To my dearest LB, I thank you for lighting the spark within me and helping me realise that there was another path. I thank you for showing me how beautiful the world looks from four floors up, for assuring me of the greatness I am capable of, and how pointless it is to sell myself short, for setting an example for me of how to set my sights high and for holding my hand and leading me there.

To my dearest LD, I thank you for reaching out and guiding me when I was going through some of the roughest periods I have ever experienced: last year at Christmastime, when I felt like  I was in no shape to be anyone's friend, you were my friend, you had faith in me and in the fact that I could and would rise above the darkness, which I did, with your help. You were and continue to be an example to me and of course to everyone around you. You taught me the value of living authentically, which turned out to be easier than I realised, and more important than I ever imagined. It matters. You introduced me to FSM, and assured me of what a fantastic man he was - and is - and helped me to discover him and introduce him to the world. And you reminded me that I am and always have been him.

To my beloved J, you never gave up on me when it felt like everyone else had, and when I certainly had given up on myself. You were there, to lift me out of the mire when I most needed lifting, you are my hero and my inspiration. You taught me to value myself and the value of treating myself with respect and refinement. You taught me what it meant to receive unconditional love, and I learned how to give it to you. And this year I shared those lessons with the rest of my family, and the results speak for themselves.

To WC, you taught me the value of always having capacity, and how to monitor my own. You taught me how to live forthright and upright: with my feet planted on the ground,  and my head up and oriented to the heavens and to the stars. You showed me where home was, and how it was closer than I ever realised. You taught me that there is only one M., that he is and was and always will be the loveable man that I am. You taught me the beauty of innocence and took me back to look through the eyes of myself as a child, and through the eyes of some of the people who knew me then and have known me since, and what a delightful view I had.

To my beloved sister K., your faith in me never wavered, no matter how desperate or despondent I became, you were there, to help in every possible way and at every conceivable hour. You assured me that I was not my brain, and that it would pass, and despite how difficult it was for me to believe it at the time, you were right - as you are about pretty much everything. My thoughts were just thoughts, and it did pass, and here I am congratulating and embracing you with the love that I never even knew I had in me.

To OW, my coach, you taught me to look within myself and trust myself to know what is the right thing to do. You taught me that what frustrates me about others is what frustrates me about myself.
You showed me that my relationship with woman I date reflects my relationship with the the women in my family. You inspired me to embrace my love for the women and the people in my life in the loving way of which I am capable.  You showed me how I can change my world by changing myself.

Paying it forward

This summer I, along with my friend and mentor LB, attended a the annual golf tournament with my club. Incredibly, and despite what I could only describe as the obvious disparity between our ability and that of the majority of the members, we found ourselves prize winners. LB's prize, which I collected on her behalf, was two tickets for very good seats to a professional baseball game featuring the once-world champion but now also-ran team in our home town. LB had taken a new job after Labour Day, and as I suspected and soon confrimed was neither available nor particularly interested in attending when I contacted her yesterday to remind her and offer her a final chance.

I put it out to my hockey team, and a gentleman whom I knew, but only barely, answered the call and mentioned that he would like to grab the tickets and attend the game with his two-year-old son. I was glad to hear that someone was able to use them and arranged for him to collect the tickets from me as I was at that point having dinner with my friend CB and getting ready to play my trivia league match.

My teammate, and his young son, came by and collected the tickets, and while I was at trivia attended the game, and warmed my heart in a way I had never anticipated. A gentleman nearby caught a ball and gave it to his son, much to his and everyone's delight, and my teammate shared some adorable photographs with me commemorating the moment.

In sharing those photos, he shared with me another noble sentiment:

"If I can repay the favor some day I will do it gladly."

To which I replied:

"Nothing to repay - pay it forward"

I suppose in the simplest sense that paying it forward is essentially a retelling of the Golden Rule. Paying it forward is the simplest manifestation of altruism.

I have heard many people discussing paying it forward as if it were karmic insurance against accusations of selfishness. That sounds more to me like paying it backward.

Felicity is not an end in and of itself

I am a man with a plan. My plan, thus far, is to have a plan. A plan is that which has eluded me thus far in my life, and thus far in this, 2012, the year of my rejuvenation, the plan has been to achieve happiness. And I achieved that, I had an incredible spring and summer, six months of building bridges in my family, meeting new friends, solidifying old friendships, undoing years of neglect and undergoing an unprecedented personal transformation.

Imagine my surprise when I realised that felicity is not an end in and of itself.

Labour Day

As the summer has worn on, despite a lingering and increasing sense of dissatisfaction with my career and with my life, I allowed to myself that August is no time for pondering such things and summarily deflected that task and those woeful thoughts until Labour Day. And now that day has arrived and I sit (lay, actually, in my hammock on the verandah at my father's cottage) and try to force myself to confront that which I have, through a combination of denial and procrastination, thus far avoided.

The fact is, that despite the terrific progress I have made this year in many aspects of my life, I have definitely slowed or stalled. The summer, which started out so terrifically and exciting - new apartment, new car, new foundation with my family, and a spectacular trip to the west coast - is over, limping to the finish line following a second, less animated west coast journey.

While I suppose I am not surprised that I no longer feel like King Midas, it is nonetheless disappointing. Thankfully I am now blessed with a much-improved set of tools for minimising the potential damage of mood de-elevation. My experience in the past year has taught me some important things, particularly that the only thing which stands between where I am and where I want to be is me.

Adaptation to Life

A few years ago, I read a magazine article about a remarkable study by an interesting psychiatrist. The doctor in question had in fact not initiated but inherited the so-called "longitudinal" study, which closely followed a cohort of men from a particular generation and Ivy League university from their freshmen years until the present day, and attempted to chart their success, and their satisfaction with their lives.
At that time I was in weekly therapy sessions with WL, a young and softspoken psychiatric resident, whose lasting impact on me would be difficult to understate, despite the years we spent together, crammed into his impossibly small office.
Although I forget what exactly was revealed in the article, it was enough to inspire me to track down the book, which I special-ordered, as it was not in stock at the psychology-specialised book store on the main university campus in my city. I remember the clerk telling me that it was kind of old (12-15 years perhaps at the time), and I remember telling him that he was bound to get a bunch of orders for it because of the fresh new light shone thereon by the article I had read, in a widely-read magazine.
It took a month or more for the book to arrive, and I remember how excited I was when it did. And I remember reading it enthusiastically and voraciously, and I remember sharing with S., who was by that time living with me, and with WL, whom I had actually known marginally longer, that this book was going to change my life. And I remember the similar indifference of them both to my confident enthusiasm.
The premise of the book is that happiness and success are essentially contingent on how well one learns to handle adversity. The author, in studying his subjects, identifies, classifies and stratifies the adaptive mechanisms which they employ to handle the situations in which they find themselves. He sorts the techniques into four groups, which he numbers Levels 1, 2, 3, and 4, namely psychotic, immature, neurotic, and mature. His conclusion: the more prominent the role of the mature adaptive defence mechanisms in a subject's repertoire, the happier and more successful they tended to be.
I have given a great deal of credit in these pages to some of the people close to me who have made enormous contributions to help and inspire me: my mentor LB, my neighbour and coach LD, my friend LH, my Goddaughter and inspiration J, my sister K, my friend PH, my coach OW, my therapist WC. I have neglected to credit GV, the author of that book, for the initial inspiration.
The seeds of the remarkable transformation which I have undergone were planted upon reading that book. The roots of FSM, the Class Act, are found within the pages and the premise of that book. The power which I have been able to harness and channel into such remarkable feats this year for myself and for my friends and my family stems from the fundamentals laid down in that book.

Faisant le Bilan

In an entry from October of last year, I outlined the projects I was working on to improve myself and finally take charge of my life. Little did I know at the time just how far I was going to fall before I rose up to the challenges of all of those projects. And now I find myself approaching Labour Day, and soon afterward the anniversary of that post, and I think it is time for a reckoning of how far I have come and how far I have to go.

1. I am not my brain. This project has been an almost unqualified success. While it took a couple of months to get to where I needed to be, I got there. The reason I say almost, however, is that I have experienced a bit of a mood setback in the past couple of weeks, which is of course the real test of this technique. While I have been experiencing persistent negative thoughts, I have been using the techniques I learned successfully, I think, to arrest the potential descent into actual depression. Grade: B+
2. Kicking the Validation Habit. It has been an incredible year for my self-esteem. I have been able, through conscious effort, to approach people and situations with energy and confidence. I have learned to not take ownership of other people's shame, embarrassment, and discomfort. I have recognised, acknowledged and remedied (although certainly not eliminated) many of my habitual indulgences. I have identified a model - the Class Act - which I strive to follow and I have become adroit at instinctively and reflexively governing myself accordingly. I have made dramatic improvements in some key areas of my life (living arrangements, wardrobe, vehicle, social life, sex life), while failing to make any progress or even losing ground in others (career, health). While I have had tremendous success in engaging new people, I have not yet been able to extend it to a permanently elevated network of friends and colleagues. I have had some success with small projects such as at my father's cottage, and with some trips such as attending a conference on the west coast in the spring, and more recently my nephew's wedding. I have tried but not managed to become "a man with a plan", as advised by my life coach OW. Grade: B
3. FSM. I am confident, I am grounded, and I am emotionally connected. I am a superior man, who lives a life of integrity, authenticity and freedom. I know the kind of man I want to be, and I am become that man. I do not yet know the legacy I want to have, the real purpose of my life. Grade: B+
4. Rear-view Mirror. As I have pointed out in previous posts, I escaped the Freudian therapist and was fortunate enough to find a therapist who, after listening for perhaps a quarter of an hour or maybe only ten minutes, was convincing in his dismissal of the rear-view mirror approach. We looked backed, interestingly enough, but not to the miserable past but rather the joyful one, and spent some time reviewing life as a child, in celebration but not lamentation, with an eye the whole time to the future and not the past. If I look back now, it is for inspiration, not nostalgia. Grade: A+
5. Rock Star. This one is still only beginning. There have been some encouraging and exciting developments along this path, and there are miles to go. I continue to work with LB and with others and the authenticity I have discovered I can live by enables me to continue to develop in this direction. It is somewhat hampered in the same way as #2 and #3 are hampered, in that I still lack a coherent vision and purpose for my life. But it has nonetheless been several great strides forward with no appreciable decay. Grade: B

Capacity

One of the most important things I learned from WC was about capacity. As early as my second or third visit to his office, he stood up from his chair to illustrate something for me on his whiteboard. He drew a cylinder, and he drew a line demonstrating the level of its contents part-way up, perhaps 60% full. He pointed to the space above the level, and identified that space as ones capacity. This is the space that when you keep open it becomes available to others, into which you may invite others to share in the richness and love that you have to offer. He drew another line, right at the top of the cylinder. When you are up here, he said, you have no capacity for others, you are completely full of yourself.
When you are full, not only are you not open and available to others, but when you interact with them, it tends to be clumsy, aggressive and obtuse. And you are so top-heavy that you are liable to fall over and find yourself horizontal and butting heads. Reorient yourself, with your feet firmly planted on the ground, with a solid and stable foundation, and with your head pointed to the heavens, and you will be much better equipped for the inclement weather life is sure to send your way.

Reunion

I have been trading fawning text messages with my sister G this evening, about how much love we have for each other despite never having known it for all these years. What a wonderful source of energy that we have both been blessed to discover, this summer, out of thin air.

Intimacy is Accepting Vulnerability

I had lunch today with my friend MB, who is visiting this week. I met him about six years ago when we worked for a software development company in the west end. He is kind of a granola type and it came as little surprise to me when he moved to the west coast three years ago. Despite moving away he seems to make it back quite frequently and I am as always enjoying his visit. We were talking about relationships, and about intimacy, when I remembered and recounted for him the definition of intimacy which my wonderful psychotherapist WC shared with me during one of my first sessions with him.
Intimacy, he said, is the willingness to be close enough to another person to be vulnerable to being changed by him or her.

Home

I tracked down WC, the therapist who had been recommended to me by my financial planner LT, and made an appointment for a session. His office turned out to be in a cheery and leafy neighbourhood in the west end of town with which I was quite familiar and in which I had long longed to live.
I remember arriving for my appointment feeling very low, very lost, and very far outside my comfort zone. I forget the details but I had been provided with a sophisticated (or so it seemed to me at the time) arrival and door protocol - his practice is in a large, elevated corner house, with front and side doors commanding imposing concrete stairways. The main floor seemed to be given over to a hair studio, or two, and the door to which I had been sent was locked. I was a couple minutes early, but that comfort soon melted away and I found myself outside in the cold after the appointed time. Every bone in my body was aching to cut my losses and get out of there, as if someone was keeping score and I could have my cake and eat it too, by showing up on time yet not subjecting myself to the session. "Oh well, I tried, not my fault if no one showed up. See, there is no point in trying."
Before I could make my escape however, he appeared and welcomed me in. His office turned out to be a cosy room on the second floor.
I settled in and started to tell him my story, why I was there. It was a story of depression and hopelessness, about feeling that the decisions I had made in my life and particularly my recent past had been a series of horrible mistakes. I had only just begun the litany for him when he interrupted me by saying "OK, that gives me a fair idea of where you _are_, so now tell me where you want to _be_.
I told him that I wanted to be happy, that I wanted to experience the happiness of which I knew I was capable. He asked me for a particular example and I told him the story about when I discovered how joyful it could be to genuinely share my pleasure at seeing friends as I described in my previous post. It was nearing the end of our session but by the time I had finished explaining what had happened to me that time I found myself shaking my friend's hand, he had some very encouraging news for me. "W", he said, "I am happy to tell you that you do not have very far to go". He explained that so many of the people he sees are not only lost, but they have no sense of where they want to be. I was lost, he said, but I knew what it was like to be home, and he just had to help me get there.

It is Always Great to be with you

A few years ago I started listening to a particular morning radio show which featured a likeable host and a cheery business correspondent who would come on for a few minutes at the end of each hour and give a stock market report and engage in a witty exchange with the host. I noticed that the guest unfailingly greeted the host with "good morning" and something along the lines of "it is always great to be with you". When I first heard it I thought it sounded a bit contrived, but as I continued to listen to the show and get to know the host I came to realise how sincere it was, and that its repetition made it not trite but authentic. And then one day I tried it myself, when I was shaking hands and parting ways with an acquaintance who was not exactly a close friend but someone whose company I nonetheless invariably enjoyed. "It is always a pleasure to see you" I said, and as I was saying it I felt it, every syllable slowly played out and for the first time in my life I realised that I really meant the words I was saying as I bade this man farewell, that it really had been a pleasure to see him and that it always was, and that is was my joy and pleasure to share that fact with him at that moment.

Struggle

I struggled last year after I sold my house. I kind of felt like I knew it was the right thing to do, but nonetheless I felt lost and unsure. I thought I might use the proceeds to buy a new one, but I did not. I moved in to my sister's basement, I rented a furnished place, I rented a condo-alternative kind of flat, and I suffered miserably in all of the above.

At the same time I struggled through a series of therapies and therapists, hoping to find the magic bullet which would snap me out of the misery and self-loathing in which I was trapped. I went to my GP and among several recommendations I found myself seeing a rather obtuse Freudian-style psychoanalyst for several months. I remember riding to our appointments on my motorcycle, and then sitting in his office and bawling my eyes out and feeling completely lost, and gone, and done.

I tried some other random therapists, CBT, IPT, I was open to anything. I looked them up in the yellow pages and paid them cash.

I spent hours and hours at the local outlet of my chosen bookstore chain. I bought dozens of books and yet kept going back for more and more. I remember one time realising that the only place in the world I felt comfortable was in the self-help section of my bookstore, and I would go there every night for hours on end.

When I realised that I was not going to reinvest in a house any time soon, I asked my bank manager to set me up with a financial advisor. I remember my first visit with LT, I was miserable and self-loathing. After she had organised my investments and whatnot she asked me "is there anything else I can help you with?", to which I replied that I was very depressed and asked her if she could recommend a therapist. That turned out to be one of the more fortuitous spontaneous outbursts for me in recent memory, as it turned out she had a very solid recommendation for me. LT told me that she was going through a divorce, and she recommended that I see WC, someone who had been very helpful for her.

Perfect Day

This weekend was a long-planned group getaway to my father's cottage on an island in a large bay three hours' drive north of the city. I and my friend RK managed to get away on Thursday, giving us an extra day to prepare for the larger group who arrived the following day. On Friday evening RK made a huge batch of pasta while I ferried to the marina to retrieve the rest of the group: P&P, their two sons, and my friends BG and LS.

I think Saturday was actually an absolutely perfect day, perhaps the first one I have experienced in my life. We woke to a scrumptuous feast of bacon, eggs, toast, strawberry pancakes, hash browns, all served and enjoyed under the bright sun at the picnic table in back of the cabin.

After breakfast my friend and cottage neighbour DP arrived as planned to help us launch the sailboat, which had not been on the water since the summer before last, and which was filthy with dead leaves and similar sludge. With four guys we managed to get it in the water, and I paddled her out and attached her to the mooring in the middle of the bay behind our cottage.

While we were doing that, the girls were cleaning up from breakfast and preparing for lunch. We packed a picnic and drinks and headed out in a small convoy (one motorboat and one Sea-doo) for a really fantastic spot nearby with a couple of beaches as well as cliffs you can jump from.

It would be as impossible to list all the fantastic moments we had at the beach as it is turning out to be to quantify how this was a perfect day. As we arrived and unloaded, we encountered a tiny snake in the water who would return in the second act.

After we unpacked our coolers and blankets and set up camp on the beach, the recreation started out with a little hike up to the cliffs where the bold among us jumped into the water from some great and some moderate heights, and the more timid and/or responsible hiked back to the beach.

The fun continued back on the back as we swam back and rejoined the group. I took P&P's son N for a spin on the Seadoo which I guarantee he shall not soon forget, he was mesmerised from the first seconds. When we returned we met and made some new friends among the other beach-dwellers, including the brother of one of the mainstays at the marina, and then an odd but pleasant father-daughter pair and her friend. We finally left the beach but the fun was only beginning as we took the convoy back to the cabin. On our way back I took N on the Seadoo and we stopped at the neighbours and invited them to come visit us for a cocktail.

When we got back we watched the second half of the quarterfinal in the European cup soccer game and then bathed in the glory of our situation as BG and others prepared dinner. Our neighbour TF came over with his son-in-law and his friend and joined us on the porch for a nice cocktail hour conversation.

The sunset was off the charts gorgeous and to top it off, PH tracked down a space station which happened to be transitting our hemisphere and we lay collectively on our backs, mesmerized by the technological marvel.

It really was a perfect day, I need to maybe work on the narrative of it because it does not do it sufficient justice. I have gotten a series of messages from the guests who were there on the weekend and particularly PH, whom I adore to the end of the earth, and whose affection brings tears to my eyes, particularly because it is so genuine and also so directed as just what it is about me about which I am the most proud. Her message to me this morning moved me to tears when she said:
P went to bed crying, he had such a good time and he did not want the weekend to finish. Thank you again, you have such a big heart.

Confidence in the Corner

One of the unanticipated delights of the transformation into a confident man for me has been the affect it has had on me as an ice hockey player. It is perhaps illustrative of any and all aspects of my life but it is a particularly interesting one for a number of reasons.
I have always been a fairly average player and played a fairly unobtrusive role on my teams, both on and off the ice. But in the past few months I have watched a change come over me: I take more chances with the puck for example. And I know why I did not before, I always had a feeling that not only was I likely to make an error but that everyone knew I was not very good and they were all sort of watching me. That feeling was so fundamental to my game for so many years that I did not really even know it was there until after it was gone.
And the transformation does not stop on the ice. In the dressing room I have become more of a leader, a conversation starter a decision maker. Again I had always taken a secondary or even tertiary role, and had not really noticed the fact or knew why. It is only by taking an active and a leadership role that I now even recognise how passive and meek I had been before.

All over the world

Everybody all around the world
I gotta tell you what I just heard
There is gonna be a a party all over the world
I got a message on the radio
Where it came from I don't really know
And I heard these voices calling all over the world

Thursday

I woke up this morning before my alarm which is customarily set for 6 am.
I went downstairs and prepared for my shower and showered and upon leaving ran into my rent-a-roommate CVR who was heading out for the day.
My other roommate N had apparently stayed out last night, likely and hopefully at her boyfriend's, and as I was leaving I offered A a ride to the underground train which she declined on account of wanting to spend more time drying her hair.

At work I spent most of the day preparing my office and the equipment therein for the imminent relocation of a pair of staff members from another office which we have to vacate before the end of the month. I had an afternoon meeting with LB to continue our ongoing project of "rebranding", at a pub near her house. I arranged to meet my friend P there as well, as I was handing over to him my truck which had been made redundant by a purchase of a brand new, sexy vehicle last month.

The meeting with LB went well although we had a couple of beers and quickly got sidetracked by a more general agenda and neglected the specifics. And P showed up and joined the party and we carried on a bit longer than I had anticipated, which carried me almost to the time I was to be at my friend C's improvisational comedy show. I had an hour to kill so I popped in to an indie kind of bar near the comedy club and had a couple of pints. I met the bartender girl and then a couple of girls Sherry and Agnes there and ended up joining them for my second pint and chatting with them.
And soon enough it was time to see the show, and as is customary it was quite spectacular and I chatted with some of my new friends at the bar afterward.

How to be a Class Act

When I first moved in to my apartment about a month ago, I noticed this tattered sheet of paper stuck up on the refrigerator with a magnet. It was entitled "How to be a Class Act" and it listed ten tips along with some details and examples.

How to be a Class Act

1) Live by your own highest standards.
2) Maintain dignity and grace under pressure.
3) Focus and improve the behavior of others.
4) Operate from a larger, inclusive perspective.
5) Increase the quality of every experience.
6) Counteract meanness, pettiness, and vulgarity.
7) Take responsibility for actions and results.
8) Strengthen the integrity of all situations.
9) Expand the meaning of being human.
10) Increase the confidence and capabilities of others.

Project weed and the power of mindful presence

While J and I were engaging with T and the tap dancing video show, her husband S was marshalling a crew for our planned sailing trip the following day. J and I had slipped into the back yard at one point and sampled some weed that T had provided us with earlier in the day and I was feeling pleasantly spacey. At some point I went to the kitchen for another drink and was bussing the table on my way, only to discover once I got there that the dishwasher was done and clean. I started emptying the dishwasher, despite being thoroughly puzzled by how they organised their cupboards. At some point S and T realised what I was doing and I overheard them discussing it. S was actually somewhat disturbed by my actions, however T was dismissive and amused. "He just smoked some project weed," she shrugged. At that point, S marched into the kitchen and brusquely interrupted my unloading with a terse suggestion to desist. I was on the home stretch, and so focussed on the task that I failed to appreciate the gravity of his displeasure, and I essentially ignored his instructions and armed myself with what looked to be the penultimate handful from the dishwasher. S was extremely agitated and, snapping the flatware from my hand, dispatched me definitively to bed with a reminder of our early morning wakeup call.

But the best was yet to come. Upon arriving in my ground-floor bedroom and getting tucked in for my repose, I was at first alarmed and then amused by the sound of cupboard drawers slamming and dishes clanking as S forcefully and deliberately undid the damage of the disarray my intoxicated obsession had wrought on his kitchen.

As I said I was initially alarmed by the inhospitable mood I had evidently engendered in my host. But quickly enough I had a realisation - this was not about me, but rather about him. This is such a huge lesson for me and yet another wonderful and delightful part of the beauty of authenticity: when you know that you are OK, you do not need to own the dysfunctional behaviour of others. It can be very tempting to blame oneself and get down on oneself for something which on the surface may appear to be regrettable behaviour, but in the end is really just someone else's problem. Someone is just trying to make it all about them, and when that happens the best thing to do is let them do it, ride it out - continue to be dignified and respectful and this too shall pass. Becoming unnecessarily and overly contrite is not actually doing anyone any favours, but is in fact the selfish response, because then you are simply trying to make it all about you when in fact it has little to do with you.

It takes a deft touch and a leap of faith to step back and let it happen but it works.
When people take it upon themselves and make it all about themselves in a demonstrable way such as what happened, you let that go and you sleep well and then you go sailing with them in the morning. Whether they are apologetic as a result or whether they are bitter about it is a matter of the nuance of their chosen coping mechanism. What you can control is you and the best you can do is continue your endeavour to make yourself the best person you can be.

It will take a lot longer if you wait until after you are dead

Our second night at S and T's was an in night, and they barbequeued and had several guests over. It was not a particularly late night and soon enough the four of us were installed in the den, each person with his or her chosen electronic device, surfing, blogging and what have you.
T mentioned she was a rollerskater, which got me thinking and talking about this movie I remembered from the early 80s era called Xanadu. I asked her if she had seen it and although she had not, she must have heard something about it and asked if it had been the "one with Fred Astaire". Although I said yes originally, it turns out we both made the same error and the actor/dancer in question was Gene Kelly, in his final feature role. It turned out that she was a bit of a tap dance aficionado and while she did not look up any Olivia Newton-John, she took charge of the demonstration and lead us encouragingly through several clips of the most impressive tap dancers leading eventually and inevitably to Michael Jackson (or MJ as she referred to him). At one point she said sighingly, "I would love to learn to tap dance. But it just takes so much time." To which I responded "it will take a lot longer if you wait until after you are dead." J started cackling hysterically and the sharpness of this retort was lost neither on him nor on my interlocutor. Only minutes before J had shared a couple of tokes with me in the back yard, and was as stoned as I was, which was pretty damnded stoned despite my strict adherence to the three-puff rule which had guided me well and only let me down when I strayed from it since I adopted it...back...well, I forget.
It will take a lot longer indeed. It was one of the simplest examples of my new evangelism and it made J laugh hysterically and repeatedly, with not one or two but several incredulous outbursts. It was a clever line and as delighted as I was to see that T got it, I was infinitely more delighted to see that J got it and got it so well.

Let's get happy!

On Saturday morning I got an SMS message from S. inviting me to join her for a tour of a gas-fired power plant near where we used to live. It was part of a weekend-long architecture and public-space appreciation event which happens once a year and which has buildings across the city which are normally off limits open to the public.
Our mood was ebullient and we ended up spending the entire day together. After the power plant tour we decided to go to a streetcar yard in the west end but first went to pick up her son V who was at a park planting trees with his Cub Scout troupe. He did not want to come with us so we dropped him at home and headed off, top down on my new Jeep and had a fantastic visit at the car barn. We made an impression on one of our hosts who singled us out and offered us a private tour of the control room and the software they use to track all the streetcars in the city.
After we left the barn we went to a pub and had a couple beers and chicken wings and then S. wanted to get groceries so we hopped back in the car and drove. I was playing the Cure on the stereo and Doing the Unstuck came on and I cranked it up and I looked over at S. whose hair was blowing back in the breeze of the topless Jeep and I saw tears streaming down her face. We both missed each other so badly then and we were thinking the same thing at that moment, how did we let it slip away? For that moment in the Jeep the years of fighting and tears and anger and frustration that was essentially our entire relationship melted away and disappeared, replaced by boundless love and joy.

It's a perfect day for doing the unstuck
For dancing like you can't hear the beat
And you don't give a further thought
To things like feet
Let's get happy!

Life Above the Clouds

Yesterday I went to my sister G.'s for her 40th birthday party. Her birthday is actually today, and she is actually 43, but she never had a 40th and she barely looks a day over 30 so she decided to call it 40 and she pulled it off without a hitch.
G. lives in this fabulous old house in the country, a place she only just recently moved to after a marriage flameout and subsequent boyfriend flameout in another city. She really lucked out with this place, it is a stunning property which she rents for a song from a city-dweller who otherwise does not seem to have much use for the place. Her landlady, MB, is a petite and gorgeous 50-something and who threw the party for her and invited some friends and neighbours as well.
It was a fantastic party and I was once again as I have been so many times recently almost overwhelmed with love for my family. At one point I laughed out loud at the sight of my parents together. I was sitting on a stone wall chatting with MB's friend S. when they approached and starting talking to me about arranging our trip to my nephew's wedding in August - I could not remember seeing them walk and talk together before. My father for some reason had not shaved in a week and looked very cute with his grey beard.
After most of the guests were gone G. broke out a bottle of rye and we sat up and talked late into the night. She was in a great mood all day and absolutely radiant. I was tremendously pleased to see her so happy. As she says herself, she is not out of the woods yet, but she has come a long way and like me I think she is poised to move into a wonderful new phase of her life.
As if the friends and family party was not enough, I met a gorgeous and exotic woman and came away with a phone number! G. warned me ahead of time that MB was going to try to set me up with S., and I was not disappointed when I met this beautiful woman. She was gorgeous, beautiful smile, half Danish and half British Columbian with arresting eyes and a haunting African accent. I have had a number of setups recently and have met some wonderful and beautiful women but that was the first time I have felt the kind of tug that I felt for her yesterday. We went for a lovely walk in the countryside and chatted for a long time. She is fairly reserved so I got no solid read on her reciprocation and I maintained my cool but inside I was bursting with desire for her.
And now I am on an airplane, en route to the west coast for a week long visit with my best friend J. whom I have not seen in maybe a year. I am excited about the trip and excited to see him as well. He moved a few years ago to another city about 5 hours from our home town to be nearer his ex-wife and daughter and I almost never see him anymore. And I have certainly not seen him since the tremendous transformation I have undergone in the past four months.

One of G's neighbours recently took up the bagpipes as a hobby and he piped in the birthday cake yesterday. G was beaming and I had to put my sunglasses on to hide the tears streaming down my face. As I sit here and gaze out over the clouds and the vast Midwest, I just think about how fantastic life is here on the other side - what on Earth was going on in my mind all those years I spent back there under the clouds? And just imagine how much better it is all going to get - I am just getting started!

Mother's Day

I went with my father to his cottage last weekend. It was not only the first time I had been this season, but it was the first time I had been there in 18 months as I had essentially boycotted the place last year. I had even gone so far as to sell the boat, which I had bought only the year before, in order either that I need not have to pay for it, or that he not be able to use it, or more likely both. In any case the taste in my mouth was bitter, and I can only assume his experience was similar.
Nonetheless I have come a long way, and last Friday we met and carpooled up to the cottage and it was collaboration all the way. Even the night before we were bickering and yammering on the phone but once we met up at the carpool parking lot north of the city, we were a team and we made it work and made it happen.
I had very tenuously arranged for a test drive of a boat we might like to buy from the same gentleman who had sold me my last boat and then brokered the sale of the same, and while it appeared that would fall through at first it worked out and we went for a nice drive on the bay. By that time we had realised that we would likely be able to take my sister G.'s boat and use it for the weekend so we were relieved of the need to find something right away in order to get to the island.

Shared Accommodation

Last night I looked a place in a nice neighbourhood in the west end of town. Despite having never lived there, I am quite familiar with the neighbourhood and have always liked the area, and have had many friends who live and lived around there.
The house was fantastic, and I offered to take the room before I even left. I have been looking for over a month for somewhere to live, and until now had only been considering one-bedroom apartments, but this place was a shared room with two women.

Make my day part 3

On Monday I was at a coffee chain outlet near the market waiting for a meeting when a woman came in looking somewhat frantic and frazzled an puzzled. I inquired after her situation and it turned out she had a job interview at the market but when she turned up she discovered that the market, as it is every Monday (and Sunday), was in fact closed and locked and not available as a venue for something such as an interview. She was nervous and unable to contact her interviewer despite several attempts at raising her with her smartphone, and despite her nervousness, she sat next to me with a beverage and we conversed.

I proceeded to engage her in conversation about herself, such as what she did and what she fancied herself doing, and what the job she was applying for was about. The job was in wine marketing, and she was interesting and articulate and I was very friendly and inquisitive, and she opened up and became more relaxed as we chatted for several minutes before I was seized with a playful idea and I looked her straight in the eye and said "I have to confess something: I am the interview." The look in her eye showed that she believed my ruse at first and at that exact moment my mobile telephone rang. When I answered it I ignored the person who was calling me and instead conducted a monologue, saying something like "yes, I am with her right now. She is here. Yes, I think it is going well."

By the time I hung up the telephone the bubble had burst and she was laughing at the absurdity of it all. And within a minute or two she had contact back from the actual interviewer and had arranged a plan B to meet with her nearby. But as she rose to exit and I wished her luck and all the best, she turned to me and thanked me for completely disarming her nervousness and buttressing her confidence with my little ruse.

Thank you

It is a real challenge to compare the way I feel now to the way I felt when I started this blog and the way I felt the last time I posted here. I wish I had been more diligent about recording my mood but more than anything I am just so glad that I am over whatever it was and that I am where I find myself now.

What you are capable of

I congratulated AH today for the courage she showed in taking a new tack with her sister on the weekend. I am very proud of her and wish her all the best in a very challenging situation. While it is not up to her to solve her sister's problems - in fact she cannot - she is nonetheless uniquely placed with both the wherewithal and the motive to make a difference in her life, and of course in that of their mother as well. And it goes without saying that the real winner in the end is her, AK, when she realises what she is capable of.

I dropped my new shirts off at the dry cleaners this morning and learned that three
of them are so unique with custom buttons that they will not machine press them so
I have to pay $6.50 for hand pressing. I guess this is part of living the good
life but I have probably worn shirts which cost less than that to buy.

Dungeons & Dragons

I laughed out loud tonight when I read that my friend JK's nine-year old daughter E had started playing Dungeons and Dragons - I am not sure why I should be surprised to hear that because I started playing D&D at about nine years old, but it is nonetheless hard to believe that one's friends, and ones friends' children, are growing up.

I was equally delighted to read about her determination to raise her daughter as a citizen, and that she remained encouraged by the initial feedback. And I was grateful for her advice and insight to my own sh*t. It has been a struggle but I am happy to report that I have in fact broken through and am once again dealing with a half-full
glass. I feel like this is a familiar exercise, exorcising the demons of darkness
and lining up the stars, but each time it gets easier and I feel like I have more
of a framework on which to build the man I am determined to be. JK, much like many others, correctly pointed out that he is there, inside me, it has just taken me a long time to find him.

Make my day part 2

Today was another magnetic day, where everyone I touched seemed drawn to me. I know LS calls it mania but no matter what you call it, it is real.

I went to my friend SK's church in hopes of bumping into him and talking with him about booking a room there for a meeting we were supposed to have on Tuesday. When it became clear that the room would not be available he suggested I try another church, which I did and where I met Pastor R., a friendly and enthusiastic man who greeted me warmly and kindly accommodated us.

Since I was in the neighbourhood I decided to pay a visit to my friend C. and his wife U.

And since I knew it was football conference finals day, I decided it was a good time to reconnect with my friends S. and P.

On my way to meet J and D for dinner, I had a series of friendly encounters on the subway, starting with a man in front of the station when I arrived. And at the bottom of the stairs, I bumped into an old friend K. from trivia club who was coming off the train who greeted me with her customary warmth and followed with some encouraging comments about my appearance and countenance. The subway love in carried onto the train where I befriended a Brazilian boy and his French companioness, who was delighted to hear my soft francotones. And to top it all, after the two of them departed the train upon noticing they had gone the wrong way, this south asian eavesdropper came up to speak with me and tell me that I spoke excellent French.

Making my day

When it rains, it pours, and lately it has been cats and dogs.
It has been another day of making successful connections, this is only a partial list.

J. the regional organizer of my political party at the presidents' meeting this morning.
M the riding prez of my new riding
S the riding prez of my old riding
a dozen other people at the president's meeting
My friend and coach and newly-minted political volunteer LD!
Butcher boy and blini couple at the food market.
Starbucks girls - blonde & redhead.
Liquor store woman.
Excusable Habs fan.
Lucky day parking woman.
CB2 girl.
Sarah with an H.
Pottery road Cab driver.
Amy & Cam.
LS - "are you sleeping?" who is the first person to suggest I am manic.
Sh and P.
Teenagers on the porch, O. Gardens.
it is important to recognize that when everyone around you is an asshole, it could also be that you are having trouble noticing your own assholity.

Controlled Flight into Terrain

In my struggle to overcome my dysfunctional mood one of the most interesting things that I have discovered is in fact I, and no one else, am essentially in complete control of it. In fact, it turns out my problems are all in my mind!

I am particularly well-read about aircraft disasters. I find it to be a fascinating subject - it is such an educated science, and each new disaster engenders an often obscenely elaborate search for cause, followed by directives and modified procedures, and a continual and gradual reduction of the fatality rate to the point where air travel is orders of magnitude safer than most or all other methods of transportation including not only automobile and rail but also walking, riding an escalator, etc.

But despite the tremendous and relentless progress in aviation safety, there are still and always will be disasters and casualties. And despite all the advances in technology and training and engineering, the most common cause of disaster continues to be one which they refer to as CFIT, i.e. controlled flight into terrain. The pilots lucidly and deliberately steered the ship into the rocks.

I feel like once I really understand that I am flying this thing called my life, that I will realise that I do not need to keep clipping the trees and slamming it into the mountians, that I will finally be able to rise above and soar above the clouds.

Phoebe

Phoebe is a nurse who is going to an interview at the hospital where I find myself working this afternoon. I was intrigued by the title of a book she had with her as she sat down across from me and it led to a conversation I struck up a conversation with her.

It matters

It all matters.
I know we thought it didn't, but it does.

Things to cry about

Sometimes i give my head a shake and say to myself, what do you have to be depressed about?
I want to start my life over again and live a different one. I feel like I am not the person I have lived as, and I cannot accept the way I have lived, the choices I have made and where it has led me. I feel like I have no one with whom I share similar interests and outlook. I feel excluded from the groups to which I want to belong and cannot figure out how I get in. I cannot accept that I spent so many years stubbornly rejecting the world when in fact I really want to embrace it. I find myself painted into a corner, a result of not simply my own negligence but my own deliberate action, if I can even be said to have been capable of such a thing as deliberation. I feel like I have not given enough or even any thought to most of the choices I have made in my life, that I never learned to consider decisions in light of a greater goal or purpose. the result has been that I have drifted reactively and no pro-actively, responding to stimuli (pain, mostly) and coping but never really planning and building something that I really wanted. I feel like I have therefore set the bar incredibly low in that my only real goal, other than maybe trying to be was to get through to the next day

I feel overwhelmed by decisions about my life, both day to day and long term. When I met S. I looked forward to finally living a life as a partnership, sharing a life and a family and a home, and sharing decisions. Having someone to assure and reassure me and help me. After living alone and independently for so long, I want guidance, I have lost faith in my instincts, I no longer trust myself to do what is right for me and I want to have someone else take an interest in me and help me.

I miss my girlfriend. I want her back even though she was immature, dysfunctional, and treated me badly. I have trouble recognizing her shortcomings and find myself dwelling on the companionship she gave to me, even though it was so vacant. I recognise that I was in a tremendous amount of pain when I was with her and found her behaviour to be irredeemably selfish, but I am nonetheless suffocating without her.

Finding love in the muck

Once again I am having a very hard time going forward today. I am so scared that I am going to be alone for the rest of my life, and that I sabotaged the best thing that ever happened to me when I threw away my relationship with S., my house, the cottage, the boat, my dad, everything. I threw the baby out with the bathwater, except I actually kept the bathwater and now I am cold, shivering, wet, dirty, and alone. and the lights are off. in fact the power is off in the whole house. in fact there is no house, the bathtub is outside in the cold winter air.

I burst into tears at the dentist this morning when she was giving me the flossing lecture and I am surprised she did not call a mental hospital and have me admitted. I wish she had actually.

It is not that I have some new perspective on S.'s selfish and disrespectful behaviour towards me. But even with all that, she was the closest, kindest and lovingest connection I have ever had in my life, and I long for it back, because in 40 years nothing else ever came close to that. Why did I not realise how painful this solitude would be when I chose to break her heart and mine like I did? I can't stand it. I just sit here feeling so sad and alone and helpless and hopeless and I picture her wherever she is and I am convinced that I am just being stubborn and foolish FOR NO REASON other than wanting to be proven right or something, like I need everyone to agree she was mean to me and it was not fair etc. Fuck fair! I want love, I want it so badly. It is no accident that I respond so well to someone like LD who is so warm and generous and loving and affectionate and feminine - I have a huge void there to fill, and it feels so good when it comes but it is like shovelling sand into an ocean, it disappears as fast as you can pour it in.

I started working on some of the stuff LD asked me to work on, but I get so easily stuck in these stupid loops like the one here. I think I need a month in a rehab or something, somewhere where I can just stop beating myself about everything and just let it happen or something. I should have done that over the holidays instead of lying in my bed crying, but I could not force myself to.

One of the things I want to work on if I can ever stop crying long enough is the list of things that I am crying about. I do not agree with LD that it will turn out to be shorter than I think -- but there is only one way to prove her wrong! And worse case she is right, which is even better, less to cry about. A lot of the techniques I have read about breaking out of negative thought patterns tell you to write them down as a first step toward identifying them for what they are, i.e. thoughts and not reality. I think it might also help to have an inventory of my triggers for when I go see new therapists as I sometimes think that I have trouble explaining the depth of my problem due to the capriciousness of my moods.

I need a hug - I am really looking forward to seeing LD and getting one on Thursday. I would like to have something written to show her but tomorrow is a crazy busy day where I actually have a very important meeting for work so on verra. The writing feels good though, when I can get to that headspace. Unlike almost everything else right now it feels like something I look forward to doing and more importantly to accomplishing, and for her encouragement and enthusiasm I am extremely grateful.

Oh LD, you have no idea how much I look forward to the day, if it ever comes, when I can demonstrate for you and those others who really love me, just how plentiful and magestic the love I have in me for you and for the rest is, and how I will revel in demonstrating it. I know it is all in there, I just hope I can find it among all the muck.

Eighth Grade

When I was in grade eight, I developed this sort of crush on a girl in my class, KL. She was bright and bespectacled and a fairly typical member of the more or less in-crowd of girls in my class: academically gifted and successful, attuned to the vagaries of what was fashionable for teenagers, e.g. manners of dress as well as the latest popular music, etc. My crush was perhaps better described as an obsession, which I doggedly pursued with a disturbing determination and for a disturbingly long time - throughout the winter and spring of grade eight and through the summer and autumn and winter of grade nine.

Alea iacta est

My experience this afternoon at the hands of K. was so disheartening that I cannot realistically continue to behave as if recovery were possible.

Haunted

Predictably, I did not "go for it" last night and instead went home and had a
solitary supper in my bed in front of the TV. LD reminds me that I have much to offer, I just don't know what it is going to take for me to accept it and start to enjoy living my life. I just feel so completely lost, and hollow.

I had a very difficult time falling asleep last night, was awake until after 4.
I kept trying to read myself to sleep and closing my eyes but then once they
were closed I would start thinking all my destructive thoughts and would wake up
so much that I had to read again to get my thoughts off of everything. This is
actually not that uncommon recently.

In the end I was obviously not sufficiently distracted and I awoke this morning
from a long elaborate dream about S. and V. I cannot escape these thoughts of
her, she haunts me every day and every night.

What to do in the event the aircraft arrives safely at its destination

Another cherished assignment, courtesy of LD! Make a list of at least ten things you could do, instead of going home, turning all the lights off, getting into your bathrobe, lying in bed and lulling yourself to sleep watching plane crash videos.

- Go to A's and have dinner & drinks with him, M and J. and whoever else turns up.
- Go to S's birthday party at the tavern and catch up with him, J., A., L., etc.
- Send SMS to K. (with whom I have plans tomorrow afternoon) and see if she is spontaneously free.
- Check the listings and go to a movie.
- Go for a walk.
- Call my father and go visit him.
- Call my mother and go visit her.
- Sit in the coffee shop until 11 pm.
- Work on my many outstanding tasks for work.
- Go for a motorcycle ride.
- Sort out my paperwork for year end bookkeeping, taxes, etc.
- Call up old friends and find someone who is free to meet for a beer.
- Clean my apartment in case I decide to invite K. over tomorrow after our hike.
- Go home, put on 80s music, drink a bottle of scotch, call up ex-girlfriend (note: this option should probably be considered hors concours due to its similarity to the precluded scenario contained in the instructions)
- Go to a neighbourhood pub and have a beer and chicken wings and strike up conversation with other lonely hearts at bar.

New Narrative

This was actually a homework assignment given to me by my life coach, LD, before the holiday season, after I shared with her my dread about the inevitable catching up with friends, family, colleagues and the like which accompanies the festive season.
I was horrified at the thought of having to account for my situation and how it is has changed in the past year. I feel like I have regressed so much in that time and my narrative was an accurate illustration of that sentiment: I am alone, cut off from my girlfriend, her son, her cat. I sold my house and moved somewhere I despise, and lost my cat. I am almost never seeing any friends, feeling either too depressed and ashamed to see people, or else deciding that they are not really good friends and are in fact toxic to my well-being. I am cut off from my father and the rest of my family, having actively chosen an agressively confrontational stance with him in the wake of my relationship collapse. I am not going out, not working, not enjoying anything, not going anywhere, not planning anything interesting, etc.

She instructed me to compose a new narrative to replace the shameful one I was hung up on, in order that I would be comfortable enough to attend and to converse with people and not be so afraid of them asking me how things were going for me.

In fact however I did not manage to get my homework done in time, and not only did I not hand it in, I also ducked out on attending all of the events and instead spent the holidays alone in my uncomfortable apartment, isolated, lost and despondent, lying in bed, eating frozen pizza and drinking can after can of diet cranberry soda. I missed the annual Xmas party at H's, which I have not missed in over 20 years and which is only a couple of blocks from my house. I skipped Xmas eve dinner at J's, which she was extremely upset about. I skipped Xmas day at LD's, despite her earnest attempts to convince me of the safety of attending. I carried that through to the next day when I again ignored her invitations to join her and her husband and friend at her place, and finished up by no-showing at my own family Xmas dinner at my mother's house.

The exercise was supposed to produce a set of positive and encouraging talking points for me to use in place of these negative ones:
- I am struggling
- This year has been an incredible challenge
- I have encountered and foundered upon significant obstacles
- I have been very depressed and unstable
- I am isolated from my friends and family and devoid of a support system.

Here is what I came up with:
- I am heading in a new direction with my life.
- I have a few projects on the go.
- I am refocussing on what is important
- I am getting in touch with my authentic self
- I am making a fresh start with a new beginning
- I have made some positive changes in my life and am continuing to make more
- I am optimistic about the future
- This is an exciting time for me.
- The possibilities are numerous if not endless
- I am getting to know myself in a profound way.

What a load of horseshit it reads like when I look at it now.