Settling In

Since the last post, I've taken three concrete actions to get life on a more even keel.

Action #1: I had been thinking about how to create a reminder of my commitment to love and value myself, especially when I may be feeling most lonely and vulnerable. Last year I thought that if I ever got into another committed relationship, I would want to create a shared vision with my partner and do an annual retreat together to review and renew it. Now I decided to do that with myself, but to set the time frame at three months, which seems practical and manageable.

Thinking that far ahead and knowing that I eventually want to move back west, it was easy to imagine the kind of work, living situation, neighborhood, friendships, interactions with my family, and financial situation that I want by that time. I tacked that on my wall and made a date with myself in three months to renew it.

Action #2: Then I went to Byward Market and bought myself a $10 plain stainless steel ring that is now on my left hand -- a visual reminder of my love relationship with myself.

Action #3: My coach recommended an article by the Arbinger Institute on self-deception that I have found very, very helpful. In fact, after reading it I bought and read two of their books, Leadership and Self-Deception and The Anatomy of Peace. The ideas have not only helped keep me on a more even keel, but also gave me new perspectives on conflict and resistance in organizations.

Day to Day

Although I still get lost sometimes, I now know my way around a few main routes. This week I paid $11 for parking when, I later learned, parking a couple rows over was free. The next day I got a $45 ticket for parking where I shouldn't have -- expensive lessons, but I'm learning nonetheless, and most of my days this week have been dry-eyed.

Some highlights since my last blog:

1. A dear friend from Mississauga was in town a week ago, and I got see her and meet her husband. How incredibly sweet it was to be together and make plans to return the visit! To top it off, I have a date to see a Vancouver friend while she's visiting family here in early October. Ah, familiar faces: We take so much for granted day-to-day. Just to see someone I know is such an incredible treasure here. Skype and Gmail's new phone/video feature have given me much joy, too. It is so good to have friends.
2. Walks with my sister. :- )
3. I have a great guitar teacher, Peter Storzenecker -- so positive and encouraging!
4. Networking continues to go well, and there are three preliminary leads for work -- very preliminary, but it's a start.
5. I discovered that my sister's neighbor, Chris Breitner, jams with some other extremely talented blues and jazz musicians, and got on the guest list to see him perform bass with them Friday night -- what a treat! His collaborators include Anders Drerup and Diane White.
6. I finally buckled down and registered for French class, since that seems to be the entré for almost any work here. (I guess the highlight of that is that I remember more than I thought I did.)
7. I'm already getting excited about winter sports and have joined two clubs to get a) people to get out with and b) discounts to make it affordable. Now we just need snow. :- )

I've been here a day short of four weeks now, and it seems like four months -- August was such a very, very long time ago. One day at a time...

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Motoring or Sailing

I imagine that some people’s lives are like driving a motorboat. They have a destination in mind, they start their engines, and they set out towards it. They maneuver around obstacles, meet and surmount difficulties with relatively few diversions and a clear sense of direction.

Then there are people whose lives are more like sailing a ship. They, too, have a destination in mind, but in order to reach it they rely on elements over which they have no control, tacking and jibing, hoisting and reefing to wend their way closer and closer along an indirect and unpredetermined path, sometimes surprised by where their journey takes them. Their direction is governed by squalls of emotion and deep tidal currents they may struggle to read. But for the most part, if one attends to the wind and trims one's sails accordingly, the boat sings along.

This week for the first time since I landed in Ottawa I’m proud to say that I’ve had days when I have not cried. I’m finally able to find my way around on key routes and recognize landmarks – not easy in a city where roads change names and direction seemingly haphazardly. This growing familiarity means it takes me much less time to get things done. I have at times felt happy. Phew.

Then Friday morning I woke up and was overwhelmed by grief. I kept crying and crying and couldn’t feel a way out. I would get myself calm for a time, eat, take a business call, or meditate, but then the tears returned. Everything felt wrong. It was a beautiful fall day. I was supposed to go camping with my sister when she got home from work, but grief drowned any enthusiasm I would normally have for that. Deep mourning and confusion immersed me.

Just after noon, I finally forced myself to go for a run. How would I have gotten through this past year without running? I think of friends who are limited or debilitated by pain or illness and my heart goes out to them. Sometimes physical exertion is all that gets me through, the only thing that seems capable of shifting my mood or leading me to insight.

As I ran, the tears abated and the jumble of thoughts in my head finally fell into place. The day before two or three people told me that although they found moving to Ottawa difficult initially, they had now lived here for many years and loved it. They reassured me that whatever I might feel now, I would come to be at home here, too. At the time, I expressed relief and thanked them.

As I ran I realized that this was the source of my grief. I was having a violent reaction to the thought of making Ottawa home. Seeing this, I finally relaxed. “This is my life,” I thought, “and I don’t have to stay here. I can stay for nine months, a year, make the most of this time with Karen and her family, and then go back to the west coast.”

At this thought, I felt deeply comforted. I could now see the beauty of the day, appreciate everything good about Ottawa (and there is much of that). My enthusiasm for the camping trip returned. All was right in the world.

I guess I am not yet done with the west coast. I’m taken aback by the violence of emotion I have around that. I’ve navigated many changes in the past year, and I’m surprised that it is the idea of leaving the west coast permanently that seems the most intolerable. Yet when I honour that and think of this as a retreat rather than a permanent move, I am motivated to make the most of my time with my sister, nephew, niece and brother-in-law; to explore and appreciate Ottawa and environs and everything it has to offer. Things make sense again. I can ride this tack through Ottawa happily for a time, knowing my final port lies in another destination.

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Strange Gifts

“This time alone on a little boat at sea in the middle of a wild storm and longing for company is like nothing else in my experience. I have leaned back from others, resenting their close breath upon me, imagining that the most important virtues are self-reliance and independence, fantasizing about post-apocalyptic survivalism (myself the only survivor). Into this resentful misanthropy intruded a frank and uncovered loneliness. This is why people venture out alone on mountains and little boats and across deserts – not because they can, but because they can’t. …

“It is true that we are ingenious and resourceful creatures and we can survive without espresso and poires belle Hélène, but we cannot last without companions. In cities we live badly with one another, and blame others – the pressure of their presence – for the vileness of our days. But the fault does not lie there.” – p. 280, The Water in Between, Kevin Patterson

Writing has a way of shifting things. Even if no one read these blog entries, writing them is very helpful to me. That you not only read them, but respond with such kindness, love, and understanding is a balm to my heart. Thank you.

After writing the last entry, I finally thought of volunteering as another way to connect with people here. I called a local organization to which I had been a long-time donor. While they weren’t taking volunteers, a woman named Sophie (another former Vancouverite) very generously gave me contact names for two organizations seeking group facilitators and offered to call them and let them know she had referred me. So that is in motion.

This weekend, I am registered in a workshop: two eleven-hour days in a hotel conference room learning techniques to free oneself from debilitating behaviours and disease. I heard that this program is being used in some areas of federal government leadership training and thought it might be a good connection. Although I had a rough night, I got up early Saturday – by far the earliest since I’ve been here – exercised, showered, and got to the conference by 8:35. I felt scared to be there – too raw and vulnerable, unwilling to open to these strangers. Through the early part of the morning the facilitator led a couple reflections and during these I noticed how my experience of loneliness was once again preventing me from fulfilling my intention of connecting with others. How could I get out of this vicious cycle? What was driving it?

Self-rejection. When that thought came two hours into the workshop, it fit like a key. The sadness lifted. It’s not a particular place or person or people from whom I am alienated; it’s myself.

I have been feeling it most sharply and hating myself most deeply lately because I finally accepted that someone who I want very much to want me simply doesn’t – at least not as much as I want him to. But when I look at the situation frankly, I see that I am abdicating responsibility and trying to get him to do something that I need to do for myself – and that he needs to do for himself much more than for anyone else. In that way, I’ve been trying to steal his energy.

I left the workshop at the noon break. It’s a beautiful day, and I decided to spend the rest of the weekend with myself outdoors. This seems like more important work right now than meeting anyone or learning someone else’s techniques. I’m writing this sitting on a log beside the Ottawa River. There are lily pads and sea grass and boats, and I saw a heron. My camping gear is in the back of the Jeep.

I’ve been resenting Ottawa, questioning my decision to come here, railing against fate and wanting things to be different. Right now, finally, I can see coming here and even not being wanted by someone as gifts: Just what I need in order to begin. I’ve talked about valuing and loving myself no matter what. Now I get to practice.

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Loneliness and Home

“Which is … the redemption of the travelers and their compulsion to tell tales. Their stories, when they are meaningful, are certainly not about the solitary traveler. They are about home, and the travelers’ relationship with it.” - p. 278, The Water in Between, Kevin Patterson

This week has been lonelier and harder than the last. I have found it more difficult to accomplish the tasks on my self-care list. Things unravel quickly -- I stay up late; am reluctant to get out of bed; try to compensate by doing some of the look-for-work or prep-for-errands tasks on the computer and phone; skip exercise; eat late; finally force myself to dress and shower; get a couple things done; go out to a social event to try to connect with people; come home feeling lonely; stay up late trying to connect with people on the west coast who are busy or away, in the midst of their own lives and worries; stay up late; skip meditation, etc., etc.

I keep learning how patterns of behaviour unintentionally reinforce unwanted cycles of events. In this case, feeling lonely --> sad --> cry --> isolate myself --> pry myself out of isolation --> go to social event --> find it difficult to connect with others (not surprising, given that my energy is low and I feel sad) --> feel lonely --> call or email --> others busy / bad timing --> feel lonely --> sad --> cry --> isolate myself, etc. It's a tragic and ironic cycle. I'm sure there are many, many other people who just need to be held and to have a good cry, yet it seems so hard to melt the fears and distance and social barriers and do that.

There have been breaks: Hugs with my sister, second-hand shopping with my niece, a chat with my nephew. I know that if I keep chipping away, connections will happen. If nothing else, I am, I hope, cultivating compassion for other travelers and life-levelers. And I recognize that although I may feel stripped down, I still have many blessings: my sister and her family, their hospitality, my health, a working vehicle to get around with. These are not trivial things.

It may not look like I am still traveling, but until I arrive again in a place that feels like home I will still feel like a nomad. I imagine that many people are invisible travelers, having lost one home and not yet found another. In its absence, I am certainly discovering the value of home for me.

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Greetings from Ottawa

Seattle was so good to me. It felt so easy to be back there with my classmates; so many people generously welcomed me into their homes and hearts again. My only regret was that my time at each place felt too short. Jolene and I explored birthday love signs and the U of W farmer's market; most of my graduating class congregated at Jessa's Vachon Island home Saturday for a barbecue and bonfire; Mary and Bruce swept me off to a rusticly beautiful bed and breakfast; Carol, Helen, Erica, Mary and I shared a great dinner Sunday night and then savoured Eat, Pray, Love together; Heather, Lauren, John and Brian spent a sweet and savoury evening at Katie and Tom's with me; Katie and I had some great conversations and spent a glorious afternoon hiking, swimming and sunbathing at beautiful Lake Twentytwo.

On my way back north to Vancouver, I stopped in South Surrey to spend a night with Joan Mara, a LIOS adjunct faculty member and fellow OD consultant. It was such a pleasure to relax, talk, and walk with her, meet two of her three sons, and get to know her better. I particularly appreciated her reading my Tarot cards by candlelight on her patio late in the evening. The images of the future, as murky as they were, felt comforting.

My time in Vancouver was very short. I wrapped up some business, had lunch with Craig, and -- finally! -- hiked the Grouse Grind. The Grind is a 2.9 km (1.8 mile) hike with 2,830 stairs up a 30 degree slope -- short but challenging! Although I was soaked with sweat and pushing myself to keep pace, when I saw the finish I got a burst of adrenaline and ran the last few metres. My friend and I reached the summit in 1:01:30 -- what a great feeling! And the view was astonishingly beautiful. I was so glad I did it before leaving the west coast.

After such a stellar August, it is perhaps not surprising that the return to Ottawa to finally set down roots has felt challenging. My sister, brother-in-law, nephew and niece have been super welcoming and very understanding of my moods. I'm very grateful to be staying with them; it would feel much harder if I were on my own. Other things that have been very helpful:

• my morning exercise routine, even on the days when I've practically had to whip myself to do it
• playing guitar
• lovingkindness meditations
• hugs (thank you, Aïsha!)
• having a cry when I need it
• making contact with people to whom I've been virtually introduced
• the two meetup.com outings I've been on: It's felt so good to get out, do something fun, and socialize with people.

Most of my attention this past week has been on getting somewhat settled and letting people know I'm here, interspersed with two great lunches with my sister. The theme of the coming week will be Finding Work. I'm sure it's also going to be a huge help to be employed again and focusing on something besides my little life. I am also going to start calling people on the west coast and doing a better job of keeping in touch.

I hope that you are all well and safe and happy. Please call or write anytime. If you don't have my new cell phone number, let me know and I'll send it to you.

Here's a quote I've been thinking of today. It's so far away from where I am right now, but nonetheless I find it helpful.

As a bee seeks nectar from all kind of flowers, seek teachings everywhere. Like a deer that finds a quiet place to graze, seek seclusion to digest all that you have gathered. Like a madman beyond all limits, go wherever you please and live like a lion completely free of all fear. - Ancient Tibetan text

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.