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.

Thinking About Happiness

A year ago last July, I left my marriage because I wanted to create a happier life for myself. Ironically, in the last four weeks I have experienced the deepest unhappiness I can remember in the past twenty-six years. This is despite the fact that I am doing many, many things that I thought would make me happy. I'm exercising daily; getting outdoors for runs, hikes, and kayaks, playing guitar; I went swing dancing Friday night and plan to make that a weekly event; I'm physically closer to my sister and her family; living in a small, attractive, culturally rich and diverse city with easy access to the outdoors, getting out for social events. These are all good things, and some of them have been essential in keeping me afloat.

Three things are missing:

1. Paid Work: This would meet my needs for financial security, regular connections with people, and a sense of capability and contribution
2. My Own Home: This won't happen until I get paid work in place.
3. Connection and Community

I dearly hope that the first two gaps will be filled in the next few weeks. Connection and community are a much bigger gap.

Every social event I go to reminds me of how disconnected I am from the people I'm with, and how much time it takes to build a relationship with someone. Writing that, I judge myself. Why can't I be more like the Dalai Lama or some other enlightened being who travels all over meeting new people so open-heartedly? Then I remind myself that the Dalai Lama doesn't travel alone; he travels with helpers and companions who he has known and worked with for many, many years. And I think of the quote by Mother Theresa: "The greatest poverty is loneliness and the feeling of being unloved."

It takes time and courage to cultivate intimacy with someone, to really know them and to be known. Generally, our culture does a lousy job of teaching us how to do that. Most of us, and I include myself in this number, are terrified of being that vulnerable, yet some part of us needs that deep connection. I don't think it would be an exaggeration to say that the majority of the people I know well are either on anti-depressants or are leaning heavily on alcohol or drugs. I wonder how much of that is the result of loneliness and fear. Those of us who are unable, for many reasons, to create and sustain intimate relationships perpetuate the cycle and even pass that loneliness on to the next generation despite our most loving intentions.

The richest aspect of my experience at LIOS were the lessons I learned about cultivating intimacy. In fact as I write that I see that cultivating richer connections with other people, whether in organizations, teams, families, couples, or with oneself, was what the entire program was about. Right now, I don't think there is anything more important than that.

I also see how easy it is to take our intimate relationships and experiences of community for granted. These become part of the backdrop of our busy lives, so easy to neglect when there are so many demands on our time, so many other places to focus attention. Even when I lived in Vancouver, I remember how difficult it often seemed to make a date with someone -- especially a group of people! -- or even to connect on the phone. It can be so easy to blame the people closest to us for little inconveniences and troubles instead of keeping our hearts open and acting with integrity.

I guess I had to be this alone to fully appreciate the communities I have -- those on the west coast, and my family here and in Alberta. I know many of you reading this already have that deep appreciation, and I respect you for that.

I'm learning much about the cost of tearing my life apart. I guess all I can do at this point is commit to doing a better job of putting it back together despite all my fears. I want to remember what I learned at LIOS and what I'm learning now. I want to stay awake enough to avoid the old patterns and ruts. I want to be brave enough to be a good sister, aunt, daughter, colleague, and friend.

I keep thinking that I'm going to write a lighter, happier blog, that these have gotten too heavy. I'll get there soon, I hope. In the meantime, thanks for hanging in with me.

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.