Year Three

Early in February, my mom told me her doctors had found a mass in one of her lungs. A biopsy confirmed it was cancer. Neither she, my dad or step dad are smokers, so you can imagine what a shock this was for everyone, my mom especially.

After many tests, she had surgery on May 20th and they removed most of her right lung. Six days later, she was home from the hospital, the stitches were out, and the treatment, other than some exercises to rebuild her lung capacity, seems to be over. She’s taking afternoon naps, not lifting heavy things, has gotten a housekeeper, and is otherwise back to her normal activities. The happiness and relief I feel about this makes every day seem sunnier and brighter.

Life has been a whirlwind since I got back to Vancouver on March 5. I quickly became submerged in finding and starting a new job (I’ve been with WorkSafeBC over two months now), re-engaging with the local organizational development community, and helping Cliff with home renovations.

When I first arrived, Cliff apologetically told me that he and his son Christopher were just about to refinish the living, dining, and hall ceiling, a section of which looked like it had been damaged for many years. I joked that he was trying to make me feel at home, as my siblings and I grew up in an enormous home renovation project. (When he heard about Cliff’s reno’s, my brother made exactly the same joke.) I even offered to help with the project, since I wasn’t working yet.

Of course, one thing led to another. While tackling the ceiling, Cliff realized the attic was poorly insulated, so we spent a couple days rectifying that. Then there was the wall of wood paneling in the living room — might was well replace that with drywall, and that meant repainting everything. And since we already had the furniture out of the way, Cliff was convinced to refinish the hardwood floors, too, although that meant clearing all the bedrooms, which also needed to be painted … and wouldn’t some crown moulding make it all look great?

What we thought was going to be a two-week project turned into three months. We were extremely fortunately to have Christopher and eventually Rick working on the project — both very skillful craftsmen. There were times when we were disheartened, frustrated, exhausted, even angry and scared; and also times when we were focused, playful, elated, and celebratory.

Happily, even through the nuttiness of living in a home in disruption and returning from work every evening and weekend for weeks to sand, prime, and paint — and on top of that, finding and learning a new job, adjusting to living in the same house as someone who I’d previously seen every couple of weeks or months, who was used to having his own space and time and privacy, and hosting many out-of-town guests — even through all of that disorder and change and uncertainty, Cliff and I grew closer and decided to extend our living arrangement indefinitely.

[Okay, okay, I have to eat some crow here. I know some of you — those to whom I protested many times that this was absolutely positively just a fling, just temporary, nothing serious, and finally, “I’m only going to stay there for a few weeks” — are thinking, “I told you so!” I humbly and happily acknowledge that you were much better predictors of how this was going to go than I have been.]

A couple weekends ago, two dear friends of mine from Ottawa, Laura and Annika, both happened to be in Vancouver, and I got to have short, delicious visits with them both. There was a party in Seattle that Saturday for the next class of LIOS graduates, so I was leaving right after lunch with Annika to celebrate their achievement and spend the night there. Saturday morning, the movers called to say that the truck with all my personal belongings had arrived from Ottawa. Could they deliver it all at 1:00? I changed plans with Annika so that she and I would be at the house when my stuff arrived. She and her friend Terri got there to find me in tears, being comforted by Cliff, upset over a transaction with the movers.

Annika and Terri’s company got me into a much better frame of mind, Cliff left to watch hockey, and I drove south to the Doubletree Inn, Tukwila, Washington. How wonderfully sweet to be with all the soon-to-be-graduates dressed to the nines and warmly welcoming me into their fold. I remembered them all from the first residential conference they attended, as uncertain as I had been on my first day about what to expect from this program, and here they were at the end of it, giddily gorged with the richness of their experiences.

Many alumni talk about the continued impact of the LIOS program the year after graduation. As I celebrated the many and impressive achievements of this amazing group of students, I realized everything in my life that was pulled apart two years ago had come back together, and that I was also celebrating the end of my “Year 3”.

After a nomadic sixteen months, I am resettled in the city where I started, emerging into a new life, work, and relationship. Mom is well again, I am connected with so many incredibly beautiful people, and every day I see more and more what an amazing person Cliff is. Walking home after work, I look around and realize that these are MY neighbours, this is where I LIVE, and that the dreams I had setting out two years ago have all come true.

Copyright © 2011 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

What I Already Miss About Ottawa

(Written in the Ottawa Airport)

Family dinners
Hanging out with Aïsha, Zachary, Karen and Salah
Laura, Annika, Marla, Michel, Zainub and Naren, Jeca, Briana, Heather, Maggie and David, Maureen, Peter
Bank, Elgin, and Rideau/Somerset/Wellington/Richmond (the street with four names) — 80% of everything in Ottawa is located on these three streets


How quick and easy it is to get around the city (once I learned the maze)
Holding Willow, and experiencing her learning how to walk and talk
Running with Gillian, Nicole, Ray, Hammy, and JF
Skating on the Rideau Canal
All the great live music


Not having to ask for a key for the public washrooms
Gatineau Park - the place to hike, ski, snowshoe, camp, picnic, kayak, swim, etc. all within 10 to 40 minutes of downtown
Domus Café, which I faithfully visit once every time I’m in Ottawa
Date squares at Bridgehead


Going to popular places without having any line-ups or crowds or waiting an hour to get in

The handy household compost bins provided by the city
Snow (but not the ice or slush)


Cheek kisses, which I was just learning how to do
Walks, teas, and outings with Peppy. Definitely what I miss the very most.









Copyright © 2011 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Black Diamond Run

The adventures have continued to accumulate since my last blog. Last week, after skiing a run two or three times successfully (i.e. no falls) in -20°C, I checked the sign and realized that I had just skied my first black diamond run EVER. Okay, it was in tiny Camp Fortune and was probably equivalent to a very short intermediate run on any of the big mountains, but I was thrilled. After only two outings, I'm already a big girl skier!

On the opposite end of the weather spectrum, January 22 I experienced a fifty degree temperature change in one day as I went from -24°C in Ottawa to +26°C in Cancun. This was my second trip to Mexico in my lifetime, and also this winter. Sheer decadence.

You might also notice that there's a man with me in the photo, a very nice man named Cliff. I've been trying to shake him off for half a year now. I thought moving 4,611 kilometres away would do that, but despite the distance and a pretty wild emotional ride and even getting bucked off a couple of times, he hung in there like a rodeo rider, or a very, very good friend. I was finding it rather difficult to let go of him, too.

Cliff is active and outdoorsy, adventurous, playful, very intelligent, supportive, funny, plays guitar and sings, gives great massages, plays hockey, is sexy as all get out… and thank goodness, just like me, he has some weak points, so we get to be vulnerable and messy together. Through our interactions, I've been getting to see both his fears and my fears. I'm very glad that we've been taking things so slowly. The distance has provided time to reflect, settle in, opportunities to shift old patterns; time to learn about who he is (so much more than what I could have anticipated), and to see myself differently. It's been a gift.

Before I continue, I want to acknowledge that a number of people close to me, including everyone in my immediate family, are dealing with big issues and transitions right now. It really puts my stuff in perspective, and I have a huge amount of respect for how each of them are dealing with their situations. They are all role models in their own way.

Which leads to the next adventure: By the end of March, I will be back on the west coast! Unfortunately, this move isn't being precipitated just by warm, mushy, happy feelings (although those are present). In fact, it's been more immediately driven by the fact that I got fired.

I'm trying to to treat getting fired as factually as "I have a plumbing problem in my bathroom." Either I fix the problem myself and ask people to let me know if they see a leak again; or I know generally what needs to be done and and that I need help to deal with it; or it's a bigger problem than I can deal with by myself and I call a plumber. Seeing it that impersonally is helping me diminish the shame, see other options, and deal with the situation more effectively. In this case, I'm taking the middle option -- taking action and asking for help. I've been working this week on re-evaluating my values, revisioning my future, redefining my objectives, beginning to research options, and to search for work. I've been asking people on the west coast for informational and networking interviews, and will continue to reach out for referrals and references. (Thank you very much to everyone who has responded to date!) My coach was generous enough to make time for an extra session, and I'm very grateful to have her support through this next transition. (Thank you, Jeanne!) I'm open to other help and suggestions, too, if any of you have them to offer!

I wasn't the only player in the conflux of events that led to the termination of my contract, but as I have no control over the other elements I'll limit my reflections to my contributions. As far as I can see, there were basically two.

1. Although I wanted very much to do great work and leave the project in a good place when I departed, in my heart-of-hearts I did not want to be here in Ottawa for the full length of the contract. I had competing commitments. There were times when I'm sure the heart-of-hearts end of the spectrum was perceptible to my boss.
2. Those competing commitments generated guilt and anxiety, and as a result there were a couple instances when I was unskillful in my interactions. Anxiousness to prove myself, which is really the old fear that I won't be good enough, can cause me to come across stronger than I intend. It also keeps me pushing forward instead of stepping back and reflecting on the bigger picture. Although I did some very good work for the organization, because I got hijacked by guilt and anxiety I made mistakes, too.

I have a strong tendency to try to hide my weak points. Paradoxically, it's more often when I'm up front about them that I gain people's trust and respect, and feel more respect for myself (after I get over the initial shame and terror). I'm really hoping that's true here. The fact is that other people probably already see my weaknesses, and in trying to hide them I'm like an ostrich with my head in the sand -- and my butt waggling in the air, as my good friend Katie pointed out when I read this to her.

My biggest learning, not just through this event but in the past few months, has been about the competing commitments between what I know in my heart-of-hearts and what I think I SHOULD do / think / feel. I've seen how much I've second guessed myself, tried to rationalize myself into feeling differently, and looked for others' approval of my choices, until finally during one coaching session I saw it. What the hell? This is MY life! And I'm an adult -- I get to CHOOSE. It's up to me where and how I want to live, and I don't have to feel guilty about making that decision. (Thank you, Raf!)

I've had wonderful adventures here, met dear new friends, and gotten to know a great city. The time with my sister, brother-in-law, nephew and niece has been absolutely invaluable -- it makes the whole adventure worthwhile. What I've learned in being here is where my heart is. I know that the move back will be a transition in itself, that there will be tough days and that I will miss family and friends who are here. And I also know that I am fully committed to being on the west coast, working on the west coast, having new adventures, and continuing to approach life as a grand experiment. As Billy Jean King said, "Be bold. If you're going to make an error, make a doozy and don't be afraid to hit the ball."

Copyright © 2011 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Transition

I am feeling very happy tonight. It feels so good to write that. I just got home from skiing -- downhill! For the first time in about 30 years!

A friend had given me some tips before I went. "Be aggressive with the mountain," he said. "Punch through your turns." I laughed out loud when I found myself repeating those mantras on the slopes of Quebec's bunny hills. I have to say, though, they did help. On my third try, I even managed to make it down the particularly steep (for me) slope of an intermediate run without falling. I cheered myself all the way to the lodge.

I LOVE driving in the snow. My sister and I were talking the other day about our adolescent experiences of driving back and forth between the farm and town on a bad Alberta winter's day -- alone in the car with dry snow blowing across the secondary highway, -25°C, the road almost indistinguishable from the ditches. That was scary, yet we did it because how else was one supposed to get home? Or, more importantly, into town to hang out with friends? After those experiences, milder winter driving just seems like playtime. So much fun.

On Saturday, my sister and I skated the length of the canal together, and then replenished ourselves with beaver tails and tea, cancelling out any caloric benefits we may have achieved. Sunday I went snowshoeing with a new friend and her friend. I actually have friends here now -- plural!

A job, friends, my own bedroom -- after five months I am finally enjoying my time here.

When I began work in November, I met with one of my new colleagues so that he could introduce me to their contact management system. He was very formal in his presentation -- had a PowerPoint deck, showed me the agenda for our session, then introduced himself and invited me to do the same. Jean Roberth works on projects that help IT professionals planning to immigrate to Canada prepare themselves for Canadian IT occupations and work environments. After I introduced myself briefly, telling him of my cross-country move, he started talking about culture shock. "I think that's what I'm going through," I said, and then to my dismay burst into tears. He was remarkably understanding. He shifted his presentation, pulling up some slides on our new topic, and gave me an overview of the emotion roller coaster that I was on.

On some level I knew that there were differences between cultures on the east and west coasts, but naïvely I didn't realize that it was a big enough difference to affect me. To be fair, what I experienced would probably be better termed as Transition Shock, as it was the culmination of a series of eighteen months of ife changes. The cultural differences between Vancouver and Ottawa (e.g. people here do not hug -- although if they're French, they do a fake kiss.) was just the icing on the cake.

When Jean Roberth showed me his presentation on culture shock, he confirmed my fear that when someone who has experienced culture shock in a host location returns home, s/he goes through the emotional nose dive again. After further research, though, I learned that people who adapt well to the host culture also have an easier time returning home. Until then, I had been holding myself back from Ottawa, afraid that if I got comfortable it would be harder to move back to the west coast; it would be some kind of betrayal of my true home. Learning that tidbit gave me permission to actually enjoy my time here.

It's still taken a few weeks to get there. I've also had to recognize what a chunk out of my confidence the changes of the past year and a half have wrought. I'm reclaiming that, and with it has come a big piece of joy. I am an imperfect, messy human being, and right now I'm okay with that. I'm okay with being a living work in progress, a little cell in the body of the world, one that may be limited in my capabilities, may never be perfect, but hey, that's part of the deal, baby. A little cell can't do everything or be everything to everyone -- in fact, it shouldn't be. It has a job to do, even if it may not fully understand what that job is. And it needs to appreciate that all the other little cells have their jobs, too.

I am enjoying the work of exploring what makes me happy, having new adventures, meeting someone who feels like a dear friend the second time I see her, doing things I haven't done for decades -- decades! -- and then trying something absolutely new. I am very grateful for this adventure, for this time with my family here, and for new perspectives. I am curious about how I will feel when I finally do visit the west coast again, about where and when I will finally feel at home. Even if I move back, I will have a very different life from the one I left over a year ago, and I am very happy about that.

Copyright © 2011 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.