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.