Tag: relationships

  • The Audacity of Me

    The Audacity of Me

    As one does, I’ve been having weird conversations with friends.

    I speak a lot about recovery and my chronic illnesses but honestly that’s not who I am as a person, they are afflictions or parts of me that I focus heavily on because they are important to me. I have a very difficult time gauging how I’m viewed by my peers in the world and viewing myself as a “whole.” Sometimes I get hyperfixated on characteristics or personality traits I have, learn a great deal about them, then use that fresh knowledge to bombard the general public with what I’ve learned in an attempt to connect. You are welcome.

    In yet another attempt to better understand myself and the relationships I have with my friends I’ve been conducting a bit of a social experiment by asking the people in my life to find words that they would use to describe their perspective of me.

    I’m not going to lie, it’s been a humbling experience but I’ve really enjoyed it. Some of my friends are really dark, some of my friends are overly kind, some are really deep thinkers, and many of them are freaking hilarious! I’ve received such diverse commentary that I’d like to keep this going in my life even if only for entertainment purposes. I’m understanding how I carry myself, present myself to the world, and I am even learning more about some of the things I stand for deep inside. I’m going to continue to find new words for myself; and ask others to help me do so; at the very least I’m growing my vocabulary.

    One term that came up recently was “audacity”.

    I’m not going to lie, I tripped over myself a bit. I love the word but mostly because I’ve heard it used as an exasperation of flabberghast. In my own internal vision, when I hear that word I think “ I can’t believe they had the AUDACITY to treat me like that.” Or, “The AUDACITY of that man!” as someone was taken back by feelings of being shocked or appalled.

    Typically, I associated the word with a negative trait but when that was used to describe me it wasn’t presented as such. It appeared to be a good thing in context. That meant I had to know the REAL definition. I’ve been very wrong about definitions of words before, or I’ve had a skewed perspective of what I thought it really meant, and when I find out what those words truly mean it changes the way I use them in the future or perceive my own use of them in the past.

    Here’s what I found when I “googled it.”

    au·dac·i·ty

    /ôˈdasədē,äˈdasədē/

    noun

    • 1. a willingness to take bold risks.
      “her audacity came in handy during our most recent emergency”
    • 2. rude or disrespectful behavior; impudence.
      she
      had the audacity to pick up the receiver and ask me to hang up”

      Oxford Dictionary

      OR

    The quality or state of being audacious: such as

    a: intrepid boldness

    knights admired for their audacity

    b: bold or arrogant disregard of normal restraints

    had the audacity to defy his boss

    Merriam-Webster Dictionary

    Yep, that’s me! In all respects and definitions. Well played friend, well played. If I turned a mirror onto myself and looked at the list of experiences I’ve collected along my life, that would be an excellent word to describe how it all happened. I’ve also never quite noticed that it essentially has a positive twist as well as an “abrasive” one. Interesting…

    I tend to jump into action fairly quickly, usually with great intentions, and it can play out in various ways. I wouldn’t say that I’m a planner by any means; I tend to lean more towards the side of the “figure it out as I go” or “fuck around and find out,” depending on who you ask. I rely heavily on my ability to adapt and overcome pretty much any obstacle that happens to be in my path. I may not always make the best decision; that much is obvious, and I don’t often take into account how my actions will reflect upon others in my life. I take risks and enjoy the thrill ride (or stress ride) that it gives me. It’s my version of skydiving.

    I am riddled with anxiety! If I ever give off the perception that I am not, then throw that idea right out the window please. At many points throughout my day I experience the feelings of fear, doubt, and concern. I question whether the decisions I make are right or wrong. I get caught up thinking about things of the past and have a tendency to dwell a little too long on things that may never happen. I have had moments where I’ve experienced paralysis by analysis and my self-worth has fluctuated (to say the least) over the years. I also have collected a series of tools to help me navigate them all.

    Me being me though, I have found that those feelings are going to be there regardless of what I choose to do. I’ve sat in them and allowed myself to feel them deeply, to an ill extent that injured myself and others in the past. I’ve ignored the feelings and pushed myself way too hard, which has forced me to make life-changing decisions and caused concern from those I love. I’ve done entirely the right things at times, been a major success, even helped save lives. In the same breath, I’ve made decisions that have contributed (accidentally of course) to the loss of it all. Full-spectrum experience as I call it and I hope to be able to continue it for at least a little while longer, maybe even be able to share some of it with the people that care to listen.

    So, what does that mean? Well, I don’t know. I haven’t found many “no-win” situations as of yet. The only time I’ve lost in a situation is when I didn’t learn anything and that’s on me. If I’m spending time doing what I’m doing then it might as well be meaningful and purposeful.

    That does not mean that I plan everything I do, far from it actually. What it means is that my entire purpose in life is to experience it. To be here for it. I don’t know what the purpose of it all is. I don’t know if the memories will be of use to me in the future or beyond death. I don’t know if I’m going to be a hero or a villain in your story. I don’t know if it will all end tomorrow or if I will one day be uploaded into the matrix to live forever. I don’t know. All are equally possible in my mind. If one is, they all are. It’ll happen the way it’s going to happen and I’m just here for the ride.

    I’d love to be the guy that says that I’ve surrounded myself with like-minded people, you know what, no. I’m glad I haven’t. I redact that previous statement. I take it back. I’ve been there and done that.

    Instead, I’m grateful that I’ve now surrounded myself with a diverse crowd of people. I don’t want an echo chamber, anytime I attempt that it turns out horribly. I can choose to feed my body, mind, and soul resources it needs to grow and surround myself with a diverse and well-rounded crowd of souls to get the full scope of my surroundings. My world is filled with diversity and differences of opinion. We give constructive criticism kindly, we don’t insult or harm. We don’t dislike one another when we disagree, we value it, elaborate on it. That allows me to have the audacity to be the person I am today.

    Yes, strangers react to me. I can’t control that. Sometimes they are even assholes. That’s ok. That’s them. It doesn’t have to affect me and I can take what I like from it and leave the rest behind.

    The friends and the family that I love have always respected me and my personality. Yes, sometimes we have growing pains but we love one another deeply and love each other unconditionally. Knowing that I have a small group of supportive and strong individuals standing behind me, by my side, holding me up, and sometimes out in front protecting me, it makes it very easy for me to do what I want to do without actually risking it all. It takes the risk right out of the equation. I get the freedom to make bold choices, be audacious, be the person I believe the world needs right now.

    I’m not saying that I am the solution. Far from it. I am saying I want to be a part of one. I am growing to be ok with shouldering the responsibility of standing firm in a moral code when it appears that nobody else is. It’s just my perspective that’s skewed. I am building a character worth carrying into my future. I am building a legacy for my future family members to be proud of, becoming an ancestor to someone. I am making a difference in my community and the lives of the people that truly need it and making history whether I know it or not, whether I get any recognition for it or not.

    I live out loud because I suffered in silence and I encourage you to do the same. Be audacious with me. Grow your own audacity to do something you believe in today and do it because you want to do it. Follow the pull deep inside of you and it won’t steer you wrong. It’s there for a reason, let it show.

  • The Bubble Boy Part Deux

    The Bubble Boy Part Deux

     In a world gone haywire, how does one stay sane?

    The world is against me, after a series of events out of my control, I am a victim. I have been wronged, held back, limited, beaten down for too long and I can’t take it anymore. If only they would be more like me, think more like me, the world would be more peaceful and get along better. The struggles I am experiencing would be alleviated. I wouldn’t feel guilty and ashamed anymore, I could go back to feeling proud of who I am. I could help others.

    That was my mindset on many evenings as I finished up my 5th or 6th beer. I’d grumble to myself about the state of affairs in the world around me, in the lives of the people around me. The company I worked for. In my head, I was solving all of their problems. Why couldn’t they understand it? What are they not getting? How dumb can they be?

    As I rounded my 9th my high ego would turn into a mood of self-loathing. I had wrecked it all. I had caused everything in my life to collapse. I had hurt so many people along the way. Nothing I could do was good enough and no matter what I tried; it was all going to end in a pit of despair with everyone around me getting hurt.


    By my 12th, I couldn’t tell you what I was thinking anymore, or if I even was. I was on autopilot. My eyes unfocused, my words barely able to fumble their way across my tongue and past my lips. My brain no longer recording the events that transpire.

    Oblivion.

    This was a typical evening for me; give or take a few beers, but the end result would be the same. It continued like that for years, a decade and a half actually. A cycle of going to work sober in the morning, racing home in the evening, and celebrating my arrival with my first drink of the evening. Don’t get me wrong, I took some small “vacations” from drinking here and there along the way. The breaks from were typically initiated by some form of drama or chaos happening within my life, self-induced I’ll admit. I would momentarily be lucid enough to understand that my addiction was not helping, so it needed to go or something in my life would, I was forced out of necessity.

    Unfortunately, the idea never really stuck for long. I’d be able to obtain stretches of sobriety for a few weeks, perhaps a month or two, before succumbing to the inevitable. I’d convince myself that I was cured and therefore I could go back to the way it was. I could go back to being a part of the rest of the world. I’d hide my return to drinking out of shame and justify it to myself in my head for as long as I could before being discovered. Hiding everything I was doing from the public eye. I’d plot my entire guilt story in my head in case anyone ever caught me, then I could “open up” about how it wasn’t the problem and something else was, promise I was going to address it. After a week or two I’d be back in my old patterns and the cycle continued.

    I’ve come a long way in three years though. I feel like I’ve grown up by ten. In three years, I’ve had to “play catch-up” with everything I failed to learn over the past 16 years and I doubt I’m even close.

    I know now that I used drinking as an escape from the seriousness of the world, when in reality it was literally preventing me from learning and absorbing new things (like coping skills). Because I wasn’t present for my life experiences, the meaning was lost and any lessons meant to be learned were not recorded. I got caught up in a fantasy world, a bubble, a place I made up. A world not as it is but as I wanted it to be. I was stuck in my own head but I am not so sure this perspective is exclusive to only addicts.

    So how does one get out of that pit? I can tell you it’s a hell of a long journey and there is no end-game only maintenance. It’s completely worth it though and; cliché as it may be, it starts by asking for help.

    We’ve all heard it a million times. “It’s ok to ask for help.” We’ve also heard the same response a million times, “I have a hard time doing that.” That’s where the conversation ends.

    Now, as you read this you are probably nodding your head; even if only internally. This, or situations just like it, are common. People do not know how to proceed to “the next step.”

    Let me explain some of my current perspectives. I want to try and help.

    Are you the kind of person who would drop everything to help a close friend or family member in a time of need? Do you love the feeling of being useful, being asked to help a friend with a really personal problem? Do you want to be there for your friends and family, to support and love them? Have you been in a situation where someone really relied on you and you were able to come through for them in those intimate moments or an emergency?

    If you answered “yes” to any of those questions then ask yourself this… Why are you stopping people in your life from getting that feeling of fulfillment?

    Everyone (or most people anyway) are waiting for any excuse to be useful to those they love or someone else. They are literally waiting on baited breath and want to jump on any opportunity to have purpose and impact in the lives of those around us. It makes us feel good to be needed, it’s rewarding to our egos and self-esteem, plus we get to feel like we made a difference in someone’s life.

    Even strangers, especially those volunteering or working in support groups or call centers, do it because they want to make a meaningful impact on someone or something in this world. Give them the opportunity.

    But what about the feelings of being judged?

    People who judge are one of two things. They are either unable to fully understand the situation because they lack the appropriate experience in their lives to draw from (congratulations you are their first) or they are unable to because of their own emotional status. It’s not their fault and it has nothing to do with you. It does mean however that you may have to ask for help from someone else. No need to put all of your eggs in one basket.

    Again, this is a great place for helplines, non-profit organizations, or step programs to stand in. If you don’t have people to turn to or feel judged, these places are full of people just waiting to be given the opportunity to be useful.

    It all starts with one action, one conversation, one step in the right direction. Sometimes it’s a matter of simply stopping, sitting still, and ending the cycle. Staying where you are, even for a day, is better than sliding backwards. It’s progress.

    One thing I do know is that solitude and isolation are two completely different things. I used to believe that my isolation was a good thing, being away from the public kept me sane because people were my problem, I was protecting myself and it was reactive to the world around me. Now I know that people were my solution all along, my thinking was the problem. Solitude is much more deeply planned as a way to compliment my thinking.

    I was once stuck in a world where I believed everyone around me was drinking and that they were healthier than me, they were the normal ones. I was stuck in a world where I was the only one suffering from anything. I was so wrong; the world is far more beautifully complicated and diverse. In suffering we are united, it’s one thing we all have in common. It’s a feeling we all understand in our own, very personal, way. We will all suffer at some point in our lives, it’s inevitable.

    So why pretend like we don’t? On the most primitive of levels the answer is easy. Embarrassment and low self-esteem.

    I’ve taken at least half a dozen first aid courses in my life. Most jobs I’ve had have required me to have first aid and I have had to use it on occasion. I will always remember what one of my CPR instructors said at the front of the class, right before we began to learn the Heimlich maneuver.

    She asked, “what is the first thing someone does when they realize that they are choking?” to a doe-eyed classroom, half full of people who would rather not be there. After a moment of silence, she provided the answer, “they leave to get away from people and retreat to the bathroom or another secluded place as to not cause a scene.”

    My eyes widened with complete and utter realization in that moment. It is our human instinct to retreat to a place where we are away from help and will surely die alone. It is our INSTINCT to do the opposite of what we should do to keep ourselves alive. What we should be doing is making the universal choking symbol at the first sign of trouble and letting those around us know of the imminent emergency, even if it ends up being a false alarm.

    That is something that truly resonates with me after all of these years and I now know how to look for the signs of someone who is “choking” because I’ve experienced it from both perspectives. I’ve both died and been saved in my own way.

    I believe we are all lost in our own minds and experiences. It’s nearly impossible to believe or perceive another person’s perspective. We do not know their stories, but we can at least understand that we all suffer.

    So, what signs do we look for to know that someone is suffering? How do we help another person who may be stuck? How can we tell if someone is choking? Well, here is another analogy for you.

    Imagine you are walking down a path in a peaceful forest, birds are chirping, the breeze is gently flowing. As you walk, you happen across a dog in the path. You approach the dog gently, smile as you lean in to pet it. It bares its teeth, snarling and growling, it lashes at your outstretched hand. Taken back, you stand upright and naturally retreat your hand away from the open jaws of the animal. What are you feeling in this moment? Likely shocked, hurt, confused, maybe even a little angry at the animal.

    Why would it do such a thing when you were only trying to be kind?

    As you step back your field of view expands and something catches your eye. A hunter’s trap. The dog’s hind leg is stuck in painful trap and it appears to have been this way for quite some time. The dog is hungry, angry, lonely, tired, and; above all, scared.

    Does your opinion of the dog’s reaction change?

    My friends, we have all been this dog at some point in our lives. If we haven’t been, we will be one day. We have also all been the person extending their hand. Now is the time to come to a greater understanding of each other’s situation. We can remove the traps and continue our walk together. We can heal from our wounds.

    I wouldn’t even be here if I hadn’t asked for help from someone in my life who I believed knew better than me. I wouldn’t be writing this right now, you wouldn’t be reading it, if I hadn’t accepted their advice and guidance and believed that they had my best interests in mind. My son wouldn’t exist or if he did, I wouldn’t know him. People in my life noticed my bared teeth and snarling, they took a step back and noticed the trap on my leg and offered to help. Most importantly, I accepted their help and listened to them.

    I’m thankful to say it has worked until now and continues to work today. I hope to make the people who have helped me proud, so that their hard work and effort is paid in full by my presence. I hope to work each day to make myself as healthy as I can be to put myself in a better position for the future. I hope for the opportunity to be able to help others. I hope to be able to take all of my experiences, even the ones I am not proud of, especially the ones that hurt someone else and make them count towards something meaningful to someone else.

    Perhaps the true secret is that we were never sane to begin with.

    If you enjoyed this blog entry, please let me know. I love hearing feedback. If there is something you’d like to hear more about or a topic you’d like me to write about send me an email. Let’s have a conversation.

    Thank you to everyone for their continued support. To my wife, my daughter, my family, and my friends I could never have done any of this without you. Keep fighting the good fight and I’ll keep trying to do better or at the very least do good.

    Thank you to the person that answered my call for help.

    To quote the famous Canadian, Red Green, “Keep your stick on the ice, we’re all in this together.”

  • The Bubble Boy Part One

    The Bubble Boy Part One

    Ever since I was a little child, I believed I was different.


    I often felt like I stood on the outside of the crowd looking in; alone in a room full of people. Somehow deep inside I was unlike anyone else around. I both loathed and embraced it.

    My family was much like everyone else’s. Nobody’s home is perfect when they are growing up but we all crave the nostalgic embrace of our childhood. I would brag to my friends at school about how my home was a safe place; a place for others to feel safe as well, and I’d boast about the upstanding citizens my parents were and how prominent my lineage was. I admired the honor and honesty my family attempted to foster and represent in the public eye and within their own lives. In my eyes I didn’t see struggle.

    In reality, we weren’t perfect. Nobody is. I was living in a dream world, a bubble. A little slice of heaven created in my own mind. A safe place for me to escape to whenever the world seemed too scary. My memories tucked away warm and safe.

    I won’t focus too much on my family’s individual stories during my blogging, primarily because they aren’t my stories to tell and they aren’t my reputation to affect. I can say that we all had our share of struggles and drama, we wouldn’t be human beings if we didn’t. I as a child absorbed and imprinted both the good and bad, it was nobody’s fault. Everyone was doing the best they could and I understand that more today than I ever have.

    That’s life. That’s the way it progresses. We all start somewhere.

    As a child, I had one or two very close friends that I enjoyed spending time with. I wouldn’t really want to play in groups and rarely wanted to attend large social functions. I remember that it was mostly because I’d feel overwhelmed; like an actor who has performed back-to-back theatrics in double features night after night. I used to talk about being exhausted; the more people I was around in any given day the more tired I’d become.

    My mother has mentioned to me on occasion that even as a toddler I preferred to watch games or groups from the outside looking in rather than jump right in. I’d watch behaviors and how others interacted with one another, get a feel for the games being played amongst peers. Then when I was confident that I had mastered my plan, I would join in and immediately be able to hold my own, win the game, or capture the hearts of those playing. Even to this day that description of my behavior rings true.

    Even today I enjoy observing and I enjoy being good at something, I enjoy impressing people and being successful. I enjoy control.

    In my 20’s I actually absorbed the term “objective observer” as a bit of a mantra, an inspiration of something I wished to become. I valued being indifferent, like a Vulcan I longed for logic and the relief it would provide me with. If only I had paid closer attention to all of those Star Trek episodes growing up, I would surely see the true plight of being emotionless. As it turns out, it’s a lonely world.

    In my early teens through into my 30’s I prided myself on being able to suffer. How much I could subject myself to without breaking. I ran towards the things that people normally flee from as a bragging point. In fact, it became quite formative in what I am today. It will likely continue to mold my behaviors and beliefs for the future.

    I needed to be something or I needed to become something, I didn’t know what it was but I had to be successful at it. There was no other option in my mind. I started searching in the depths.

    Most of my life, I’ve always chose to keep company with suffering people. In my own sick mind, people who are suffering are more real to me at times.

    In the past they have told me “how it was” (or their perception of it) point blank. At the very least their need to talk about their struggles; much like I am doing today, was a wealth of untapped knowledge. It was a simple matter of deciphering their experiences into something I could understand, translating it into something I could explain. In reality, it was because I believed deep inside that I was better than them. If I surrounded myself with poorly people, I could feel better about who I was deep down inside. I didn’t realize any of this at the time; I could have avoided a lot of heartache that I both caused and experienced, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

    One thing I will always admire about the underdog however is their willingness to help. Those who suffer are the first to offer to help another, there is no doubt in my mind. Also, our greatest heroes often suffered the greatest hardships. All hero origin stories begin with tragedy.

    Again, in my mind, I needed to suffer in order to become a hero. Tragedy wasn’t happening fast enough according to my standards, I needed to give it a little nudge to help it along.

    Enter Alcohol and my need to impress. It was nobody’s fault.

    The year was 1998, age 12 was a magical time. A coming-of-age time where puberty was playing all kinds of tricks on my mind (perhaps there is more to write on this one day).


    My family’s economical situation was improving as my father progressed in his career, we had always been a “hosting” household and actively social within the community. Our home was a hub for weekend get-togethers, parties, and BBQ’s.

    We lived on a large parcel of family heirloom land located about a fifteen minute’s drive outside of a suburban Alberta town. Campfires and outdoor gatherings were commonplace at our home and I was always allowed to have a friend sleep over when my parents were having company. It was a great way to keep me occupied so the adults could let off a little steam.

    The coolers on the deck were stocked full of cold ice and cooling brews that were ripe for the picking. I was an otherwise trustworthy and honest child; mostly on my best behavior and relatively predictable, until I wasn’t.

    My friend and I began by taking turns “going to the bathroom” throughout the evening; that way no adults would get suspicious. If we got caught, we simply said we were bringing the drink to someone. One by one, we would leave my bedroom and the gaming console behind and embark on a raid. We would sneak back one, two, maybe three drinks to my bedroom and secretly hide them.

    As a side note in addition to the story, I enjoyed tinkering with electronics growing up. Like a true nerd, I built my own “surround sound system” using old stereo equipment and large speakers I had bought from garage sales or been given when family upgraded. I wired them all together myself as I got them, I then wired them through an old hand-me-down television set so I could watch loud movies. The wooden backs of the large old stereo speakers were easily removed to reveal an extremely large and; what I’d consider sneaky, empty cavity.

    We packed those babies full.

    After the party had ended and all of the adults had gone home my parent’s retired for the evening. My friend and I pretended to be in bed for what felt like hours, just to make sure we were truly in the clear. My stomach fluttered with butterflies, I was both anxious and excited.

    We began to enjoy our hard work. I started with the beer; my friend started with the rum coolers, we escalated to the harder liquor. We drank every single drink we stole within a very short period of time, 12 or so each actually. We hid the evidence before becoming too intoxicated and from then on, I have no recollection. I remember waking up the next morning feeling sick and disoriented, but we managed to recover from it “without incident.”

    It’ll never happen again, right?

    My sobriety date is September 21, 2018.


    In sharing my experiences, I hope that someone else might feel less alone and perhaps even find some strength and hope for their own struggles. If you suffer from an addiction or mental illness in any form, it’s not your fault. You can make the change you so desperately need. You can ask for help.

    Most people are waiting for an opportunity to help another person; most people want to be useful but don’t want to impose. Let them in, give them the opportunity to help someone else and feel better about themselves.

    Stay strong, we’re all in this together.

    Part Two: Coming Soon…