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.

The Next Move

My first week at my new job went very well. I've been meeting people; learning about the organization, the work it's done, and the context of the project on which I'm working; and even starting to get my hands dirty.

I've also been scouting potential living situations. Despite a very tempting offer to share a million-dollar home in a beautiful neighborhood for only a couple hundred dollars more than I had budgeted, I finally settled on moving into a house on Chestnut Street with Heather (28) and Willow (9 months).

The house is only a 20 minute walk from work, and a short bike ride to my sister's. It's situated between the canal and the river, so paths along both are readily accessible. It also has solar panels, radiant floor heat, and hang-dry laundry facilities, which equal ridiculously low utility costs in a city of old houses and high heating bills. And there's parking for both my Jeep and my bikes.

With these changes, my time horizon has gone from not being sure what was happening next week, to having some certainty about the next month -- still short, but much more manageable. My five months of camping and couch surfing is coming to an end.

Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Calmer Waters

I have a job! The Information & Communication Technology Council (ICTC) has offered me a 13-month contract as a research analyst starting on Monday, November 1.

My task will be to conduct a year-long project researching job competencies in the eHealth industry, and to prepare a report outlining the skills, knowledge, and experience people need to flourish in that field. Despite my initial reservations, it seems like a very good fit with my background in IT and organizational development, and my interest in the health care industry.

I've also been invited to joint the consultant roster of a local firm, Delta Partners. Although the work with ICTC will occupy most of my time for the next year, the association with Delta provides the opportunity to publish white papers and professional blog posts, and possibly to be involved peripherally in some projects. They also have consultants in Vancouver. :- )

I've had big bouts of anxiety this past week, especially while waiting days for the job offer to be confirmed. The gremlin taming exercises have been enormously helpful in managing that. In part, that's meant meditating daily again, something I've neglected badly over the past few months (when I needed it most, of course). Despite the anxiety, I've been much more grounded than in recent weeks.

Now that I have 1. Paid Work, I am starting to look for 2. My Own Home. (Well, it will probably be somewhere with roommates, but you know what I mean.)

As for 3. Community and Connection, well, I do have a friend here now, and I will soon have work colleagues. There are only 35 people at ICTC, so it will be easy to get to know everyone there. Plus, I've taken the last two weeks in November as a leave to get out of town and be with friends -- a little pre-winter break. As good as it is to be in contact with people virtually, nothing beats actually being in the some room together. I am soooo looking forward to that.

So, (cross my fingers) the storms of this move seem to be over and the water is getting calmer again. Happiness is back onboard, and I can see the possibility of enjoying my adventures here. Phew!

The photo for this blog is my 93-year old grandmother, the Queen Bee, in her Hallowe'en costume getting ready to party. It seemed appropriate. : )


Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

The Rollercoaster

What emotion haven't I experienced this week? Happiness, fear, anger, sadness, deep remorse, contentment, anxiety, delight, calm, grief, fear, etc. The death throes of an emotional demon? PMS? Perimenopause? Just a typical emotional arc in this major life transition?

What I do know is how wrung out I feel. Also that when I finally sat down and worked through some of the Taming Your Gremlin exercises today, they helped immediately in getting more centred and grounded.

On the positive end of the spectrum, the job interview I had on Wednesday went very well. The recruiter called me the next day to tell me I was a strong candidate and that she would be checking my references. I hope to be discussing a start date, etc. tomorrow -- fingers crossed!

The job is a one-year contract to do competency modeling in the area of eHealth. I am excited about the project, and have felt daunted about making a one-year commitment to being here. But Friday while walking in the woods in Gatineau Park, I had the thought that a year from now I could be walking through these beautiful woods surrounded by the final colours of fall and preparing to return to the west coast for the winter. I realized I felt quite content with that possibility -- not panicked as I have been. I stopped to watch two hawks circling, feeling good to be there.

A friend (I now have one here to whom I'm not related!) and her boyfriend invited me to their house on Saturday evening! That I can even say that I now have a friend here makes me feel so happy. They made me a lovely dinner, plied me with drinks, and then took me to the Elmdale Tavern where the owner was celebrating his birthday with an ad hoc Rolling Stones cover band. $5 cover charge, and I have to say, I enjoyed it more than the real thing. The musicians were some of the most unlikely looking people to play the Stones, and they rocked it! One paunchy granddaddy maintained a completely cool demeanor while picking the hottest, fastest jaw-dropping lead riffs. A nerdy high school science teacher, black glasses and hunched shoulders, played some super-mean bottleneck slide. The stocky vocalist who stuttered during a breaktime chat had the Mick accent and attitude completely down. We lapped it up.

Also on the positive side, my sister and I are training for a 10k run on New Year's Eve. We had two training runs this weekend, a 3k and a 6k. Running is such a lift, even when I have to drag my butt out of bed after a late night and it's only a couple degrees above freezing. So worth it.

One of the principles I learned in coaching was that we often perpetuate the very things that we most dread or abhor in our lives. I've talked about that before in this blog, and I noticed it again this week as, beset by confusion, loneliness and fear, I aggressively pushed away a good friend. I have done my best to repair the damage, but damage was done and I still feel sick about that. Where did all my good LIOS training go? What happened to checking the other person's intention? That incident in itself has been a blight on the week.

As the incident above shows, amidst the good times, I've had unpredictable bouts of grief and fear. Another of those overwhelmed me today about an hour after the morning run, a time when I would typically be feeling clearer and calmer. When I got home, I dove into some of the Taming Your Gremlin exercises that I have been reading about but not yet doing. One of these was a long meditation focused on a loved one. I chose to do this thinking of my sister. After the exercise, I noticed how fear and loneliness put the focus on whether people care about me, a very self-absorbed and powerless place to be, while meditating on love shifts my focus to how I could be show more love and care to others -- much more productive. I suspect I already know many people who practice that.

I am feeling the talons of anxiety in my back again after writing this. I hope that the next couple days will bring more certainty about work, money, and plans for November. Whether or not that happens, though, I will keep up the gremlin taming and practicing love. One step at time.

P.S.
I did some more gremlin taming after writing this, and it works! :- ) I am definitely a fan.


Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Here Comes the Sun

Good Morning!

And for a change, I really believe that it is. I think I've finally gotten around a turning point.

People sent me some very loving, thoughtful emails and comments yesterday, for which I am very, very grateful. A couple in particular sparked candles in me.

Jeca wondered whether I am still adjusting to and figuring out what life is like without my ex. Since moving here, I have indeed been struggling with how to value myself as a single person. That seems pretty crazy when I consider it in terms of any other human being in the world. It makes me realize how much of my self-worth was tied for many years to being someone else's partner. Not a very healthy situation. Definitely time for a change.

Cliff said that one day I would look back on this time and feel proud of myself. That was in such sharp contrast to where my head has been that it got me asking what I would need to be doing right now to actually feel proud of myself. It's been a very helpful question.

Last night my sister and I went to a bookstore to browse and have tea. The second book I picked up was one a former colleague, Darryl Kropp, casually recommended a year or so ago. Darryl has good taste in books, and the title, Taming Your Gremlin, was catchy, so I remembered it. Browsing through it last night I thought it might be just what I need. The subtitle is: A Surprisingly Simple Method for Getting Out of Your Own Way. I'll let you know how it works.

Maybe there was a shorter route to get to the place, or maybe I had to slog through the marshes and bogs, hear your encouragement ("I've been through that slough. You can do it!") and feel your friendship, love, and support to finally find this piece of solid ground. I have a real smile on my face -- not just the kind one puts on because someone else is looking. I am thinking about having fun and playing. I feel optimistic. I can't tell you how sweet this feels in contrast to where I've been lately.

I wanted to write this blog this morning because I want to remember, however the job interview goes tomorrow, that I felt this way even before I had a job or a home. I may still slip and fall, but I have this touchstone.

Thank you so much for holding me where I'm at, for sharing your responses, telling me where you're at and where you've been and what's been helpful to you on your journey, and for being willing to just hang in there with me.

Love,
Lynn


Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.

Surrender

I've kept hoping that I'd gone as low as I was going to go emotionally, and that things would start picking up again, but this past week was even rougher than the previous ones. Frankly, it scared me. I was very, very lucky to have some amazing friends to whom to reach out. Thank you to each and every one of you.

Getting that down finally forced me to be willing to consider taking a job here that is longer term and less sexy than what I originally wanted. I have an interview this Wednesday, and will spend the next few days preparing.

Once I called the recruiter and told her I was interested in the job after all (she had proposed it to me shortly after I moved here), I was flooded with even more sadness. I suspect this is what I have been trying to avoid in my reluctance to commit to being here: Admitting that my life on the west coast as it was during the past year is Over. That was a tsunami of grief, and there are still a few waves of it rolling onto the beach now and then.

On the other side of the grief is the knowledge that the west coast is still there, and I am connected to people in ways that sometimes surprise me. You don't know how much it means to me to know you're all out there (wherever you are), to read your comments and emails, get a phone call, etc. It's like the salt in the water that's keeping me afloat.

Along with the grief, I was experiencing fear, mainly about the unpredictability of the future. In some ways that probably seems silly: The future is always unpredictable. But when our day-to-day lives are anchored in the familiar -- a home, a job, stable relationships with the people around us -- it's easier to lull oneself into thinking that the next day will be basically an extension of this one. There's a greater sense of control and ability to plan the future. I don't experience that much these days. On the good days, that seems like an adventure. On the tough days, not so much.

On Friday afternoon, I wandered into an Italian deli in the Bytown Market. The smells instantly transported me to Commercial Drive: olives, cheeses, sausages and pastramis. I wandered the aisles fondly recognizing the same boxes and jars and Mediterranean delicacies. It was comforting to be somewhere that familiar.

I feel some embarrassment that this transition has been so challenging for me. Other people have much, much tougher stuff happen to them and have the courage and resilience to get through. I'm pretty freaking lucky. At the same time, I recognize that I'm experiencing something very common and human, that almost all of us, at some time will have or have had our lives disrupted in ways that disorient us and cause us pain. I hope that I can learn well enough from this that I can be of good service to others at a similar or more difficult place in their journey. I hope that I can be as good a friend to them as all the friends who are supporting me.

Today I walked my first orienteering course. It seemed terribly appropriate to be wandering around in the bush with a map and a compass trying to find the next checkpoint. I was often slow and lost, but I finished!

I've come to accept that Ottawa is a chrysalis for me, and that I am, right now, a gooey, mucky ball of plasma in the midst of transforming from a caterpillar to (please!) something more beautiful. (I desperately hope that after all this I'm not going to be just a big, grey moth.) Although I may be feeling incredibly claustrophobic and desperate to get out, now is not the time. There's a lot more work ahead.

To close, here's a reminder that I received in my mailbox a couple days ago that has been helpful to me.

The capacity for love is within each of us and has been active all around us, pervading our world from the moment we were born. The claim that love pervades this world may not sound real to you but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Most of us just haven’t learned to pay much attention to the countless moments of love, kindness, and care that surround us each day: a child at the store reaching for a parent’s hand, an elder at the park who smiles upon a young family, a grocery clerk who beams at you as she hands you your change. - John Makransky

Wishing you all much love,
Lynn


Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.