On the road to recovery: Lessons Learned

In my last post, I wrote about using my analytical abilities decades ago when faced with a very challenging situation i.e. my first camping misadventure.  Did I mention that I was a city girl born and bred?  Roughing it to me was visiting my grandparents' apartment in the 50s and sleeping on a bed made of blankets on the floor (either air mattresses hadn't been invented yet - or they didn't have one).  I loved my grandparents dearly BUT I didn't enjoy sleeping on the hard - and I do mean hard - floor.

I wrote that post as a prelude to this post, a post about the lessons I learned from my most recent adventure on the road to recovery from workplace abuse:  going outside my little bubble, my safe place, to be a volunteer photographer for Ray of Hope's annual walk for the homeless called "The Coldest Night of the Year."

Every once in a while, I will do something like this.  Just to test the waters.  To see how far I've come - or not come.  To see what I still need to work on.  And also, to get a wee bit of socialization in my otherwise solitary life.  Afterwards, I sit back and process analyzing what affects I had during and afterwards. What went right.  What went wrong.  What could I do differently.  Just like I did all those years ago when first with a disaster on our first camping trip as a couple.

With the camping trip - and with parts of my most recent adventure - there are parts which are purely technical like getting better, more reliable equipment.  However, the most challenging things I'm looking for are those emotional and physical affects which rear up at times like that.  What were they?  What caused them?

This time, I discovered a lot about myself that I hadn't realized.

Immediately, I was assailed with feelings of not being good enough.

I had mechanical failures.

I didn't know anything about night photography.

I was using unfamiliar equipment - as in an external flash I'd never used before.

I was way outside my comfort zone as I rarely go outside at night.

And then, I discovered a trigger I didn't know I had.

I started feeling down.  Not good enough.  On top of that I was tired, very tired.  I was shocked when I got in the car for the trip home at the end of the night to find out that it was only 8:36.  I thought it was closer to midnight!

Since the time between that night and now I've spent a lot of time analyzing my experience.

Would I do it again?  If so, what would - or should - I do differently?

The analysis falls into two territories:  the mechanical/technical aspects of taking pictures and the emotional/psychological aspects of being outside and around people.

The most immediate challenge was that I since I rarely go out at night, I've not done much with night photography.  Also, I go to bed early, so signing up for an early evening activity was well beyond my scope.

Yet, I was eager to try it.

For the rest of this post I'm going to focus on the technical/mechanical challenges that I faced that night.  The ones that are significant indeed but easier to "fix".

I realize now that I should have gone to the site in daylight and scoped it out.  What would be a good location to set up the camera.  I did bring my tripod as I know from experience that my hands shake and I need a steady camera for night photography.  I also had the presence of mind to bring my ever lovin', ever faithful "sherpa"  - the man who stood at the alter with me many years ago and promised to love, honour and set up my tripod.

I had also had the presence of mind pre-adventure to charge my camera batteries.  I brought both of my cameras - my DSLR and my "second best" camera - a powershot with a decent zoom lens.

I was dressed warmly for the weather.  In fact, even though it was cold and I was standing stationary for the most part out in the middle of the sidewalk, I never really felt cold.

So, there were my plusses.  The things I'd done right.

The minuses ...

If I were to do it again - and I sincerely hope so - I would work on learning how to use my camera better.  Basically, I'm mostly using the automatic part of the settings, so I need to get more familiar with my camera and really learn how to use it better.

I had an external flash which was still nicely in its original packaging in the box and this was the very first time I was using it.  I should have familiarized myself with this vital piece of machinery.

I set up on the sidewalk in front of construction signs using my big, bad zoom lens.  If I were to do it again, I would use my "other" lens.  I learned while doing that the powerful zoom lens while it's great for catching people as they're coming, is not great at all for taking pictures as the walkers got closer.  In fact, it was a darn hindrance.  And a huge frustration.

Then came the greatest catastrophe of all.  I decided to move my camera, tripod and all, which would have been fine EXCEPT a group came past me and said something which startled me.  I wobbled and fell, tripod and all.  The external flash fell off taking the piece it inserts into on the camera with it.  That ended the flash.

However, I still had my other, smaller camera which I'd loaned to another volunteer.  (By the way, she got some great inside shots with it.)  It just happened that about the time this part of my (mis)adventure took place, she came up and handed me my other, smaller camera.

Problem is I hadn't used it in so long, I'd forgotten how to use it.  How to set it for night shots.  How to raise the flash.  Basic things like that.  So there I was using a piece of technology that was "inferior" to my big, bad DSLR which I had forgotten how to use.

And therein reared up the biggest, baddest affect of all.  I felt like I was inferior to the other volunteer photographers.   That "lie" that's been plaguing me recently reared its ugly, insistent head:  "You (Suzanne) are not good enough."  You're just kidding yourself about your values.  About your talents.  About your photography.  About everything.

And so, I've been dealing with that lie - and other associated questions.

Will I ever be good enough?

Yet, as I look back at the pictures I took that night while some are definitely not perfect, they managed to catch in their very imperfection a realistic view of what that night was like for the walkers.  Cold.  Dark.  Approaching a bright spot - the rest stop.

Until next time.

Heading to the rest stop - taken with my smaller camera

Recovery Post Workplace Abuse: Musings

Sometimes on this journey of recovery post workplace abuse, my path resembles the picture above:  nice and scenic.  

Other times ... well ... it resembles the torn up road below.  Massive reconstruction.  Basically not passable.  Unless you pick your way through very, very carefully.

And then there are the times, it rounds a curve out of sight and I'm wondering what's around the bend?  Good or bad?  Pretty or ugly?  Sometimes my life post workplace abuse resembles the picture below.  Uncertain.  I won't know what's lies beyond that bend in the road under I round that bend and see for myself.

Or my might be straight, but snow covered and icy.  Cold.  Frozen.  But still beautiful in its own way. 

My journey, my life post workplace abuse, never stays the same.  It varies from day to day - which is a good thing.  Even on the most shattered, torn up days, there is hope.  Another day coming.  Another adventure.  Another photo to take.  Another meal to cook - especially when I'm having a series of good days in a row.  Another item to knit or crochet.  Another blog to write and post.  Another bridge to cross.

That is why I like to take pictures.  Of anything and everything especially roads, paths, etc.  They remind me that just like a road trip, my journey is ever changing. Never the same twice.  There is always something up ahead.  Hopefully something better.  More scenic.  Another piece of recovery.

Each of the above pictures has a specific place in my life, my journey.  The one immediately above of the sun rising over a snow swept road is one of my favourites.  A picture I would probably never have gotten had workplace abuse not changed my life so drastically.

I was able to take this picture because my life is freer in some ways now post workplace abuse than it ever was before.  Because I don't work, I have the freedom to do things, go places with hubby.  Take pictures.

It's a trade off:  less money but more freedom.

In the scenario above, we had gone to a small town on Lake Huron.  The place our married life began.  In fact, the exact location our married life began.  At some cabins his parents owned which now belong to one of his siblings.  

His sibling needed some work done.  It's not just my life that has been dramatically changed in the last three plus years, but his as well.  He also lost his job and has had trouble finding permanent full-time employment.  So, we were both free to take a little trip to the place where our married life began.  I wanted to take pictures.  He needed to do plumbing.  We both accomplished our separate goals.

Early the next morning, we headed back to our normal.  As we were driving home, I noticed that we were heading directly into the rising sun.  I couldn't help but whip out my iPhone and take pictures - lots of pictures - as we headed east into the rising sun.

If I was still working, I wouldn't have has this incredible experience.  Nor would I probably have appreciated it as much as I did.

There have been so many changes in both of our lives in the past three plus years.

Yet, I've learned that life goes on.  That even in the midst of sorrow, tears, anger ... or whatever, there is beauty.  There is joy.  There is even ... dare I say it? ... laughter.

There are those sunrise moments among the torn up roads in my life.

But even that torn up road in the second picture in this blog, didn't stay torn up.  It's been completely rebuilt. New sidewalks.  New asphalt.  New drainage.  Etc.  It looks really good.  If a road can look beautiful, this one does.

In the end, the result i.e. the reconstruction of this road, has been worth the effort, the inconvenience.

In the end, I truly believe that I will be able to say that about my life, my experience(s) in the workplace, my journey towards health, wholeness and recovery.

In the end, it will be worth all the time, all the effort, even all the pain, altered abilities and tears.

I truly believe this.

Until next time....

Recovery Post Workplace Abuse: Getting back on track with recovery

As you can see from my recent posts, that the ending of the old year and the coming of the new year has put me in an introspective sort of mood.

I don't believe in resolutions as they tend to be short-lived and in the end do more damage than good as they fall rather quickly by the wayside and guilt ensues.  I don't need any more guilt on top of that which I already carry around from various incidents ... and am working hard to get rid of.

However, I do believe in goals.  Long-term.  Short-term.

Looking back at the first few months of 2014, I realize that I was doing fairly well in making some rather necessary long-term lifestyle changes.  For the first time in years, I had engaged in several changes.  (1) Eating breakfast which was preparatory for (2) regular exercise.  As it was winter - and a bitter cold one at that, I was utilizing a stationary bicycle in our basement.  I was also engaged in reading a devotional, Jesus Calling by Sarah Young, each morning and the corresponding Bible verses.  Each of these three changes, had a significant positive impact in my life.

As I continued with these simple lifestyle changes which I was hoping would become part of my permanent lifestyle, I began to take more control of my life with the exercise and then enlarged that with taking control of my diet.  Working on eating healthier.  I lost a few pounds.  The doctor was able to take me off of two blood pressure medications that I had been on for years.  A major victory.  I felt I was becoming whole again.

Life was starting to be good once again.

And then things started to slide slowly downhill.

First, I had a bout with pneumonia which laid me on my back for the better part of a week.  Hubby took off work to be with me, I was that sick.  The exercise and healthy eating went down the tubes for that time period.  Let's face it, it's hard to exercise when you're having trouble breathing.  It's hard to eat anything when your fever is raging and you're lying in bed.

Then, just a few weeks later, when I was starting to recover from the bout with pneumonia, I got knocked down a second time.  Hard.  This time I had what we now know was a cluster headache - or rather a cluster migraine:  an extremely painful headache that comes out of nowhere and brings on extreme pain within seconds of onset.

Debilitating is one word for it.  Painful is another.  Also, especially since I'd never experienced anything like this before, there is always the not knowing whether it is something to be very concerned about ... like a bleed in the brain ... or "just" a headache.

At the age of 64, I experienced my first ever ambulance ride.  My daughter met me at the hospital.  After spending the better part of the day there, the doctor informed me that (a) I do have a brain (I do love a doctor with a sense of humour!) and (b) as far as they could tell there was no bleeding in my brain.

Good news to be sure.  BUT ... this headache lasted for nine straight days.

Sigh.

Also, in the same timeframe, I had initiated a relationship with a woman who was going through similar things to myself.  I reached out to her, thinking she could use a friend.  Someone who had already gone through some of the things she had.  Someone who could walk with her.  Instead, the relationship became more and more one-sided.  She began to make demands that I couldn't fulfil.  She would vent at me.  I was damaged myself.  I was working towards recovery myself.  I was in no position to carry her.  I simply wasn't strong enough.  My time and thoughts became more and more consumed with this woman and her needs to the point where I was neglecting my own needs and my family's needs.

These three things combined started the downward slide.  I never did resume the healthy eating and exercise after the bout with pneumonia.  The lies I've mentioned in an earlier post - "I'm not good enough" and "My best is not good enough" rose up to torment me by the spring of the year ... and never left.

At the very end of 2014, while working on a special hat - a Christmas tree hat - for one of my grandchildren, I had a thought which was originally concerning the hat, but which I eventually realized seemed to sum up my life at that point.

I was off track.  With both the knitting of the hat and, more importantly, with my life.  I needed to find a way to get back on track.  To take control once again.  To work towards recovery and enjoying life.  To work towards the point where life was good once again.  Altered maybe.  Different from the past.  But still good.  Very good in it's own way.

At that point, I didn't have a clue.

And that, my friends and readers, is what these first few days of 2015 has been all about ... to find a way to get back on track.

There is too much happening in my life, positive things, right now to cover them in one post.  Just know that just like the finished hat on my grandson's head above, I'm finding ways to start getting my life and my recovery back on track.

Until next week....

In the bleak midwinter ....

Surviving Christmas Post Workplace Abuse: The Second Memory Trip

I seem to be on a memory lane expedition in this blog since restarting it this week.  But then, that's probably par for the course at this time of year.

We start thinking of Christmas - past and present.

Then there's the New Year coming just a week after Christmas.  We look behind us at the year just past.  We look ahead to the year coming along the horizon.

For me, I think I'm merely catching up on all the thoughts that have been wandering around my brain during the pre-holiday and holiday season.

This year, for the second year in a row, we gave the grands a memory gift.  This time a trip to Legoland in Toronto.  Since the two grandsons love their lego blocks, I thought this would be right up their alley.  The granddaughter I wasn't so sure of.

And again, the other side of the gift was a kid-free day for my daughter and son-in-love.

There was no Aunty this time, as she opted to stay in Western Canada because of the high cost of air fare.  So it was just Grammy, Papa and two grands.

Two grands?  What happened to the third?

The youngest has been having a hard time (it's hard to be six) and didn't come with us.  Which meant my daughter and son-in-love didn't get their present of a kid free day.  First oops!

Actually, the first oops was that looking at Legoland on the net, I saw that they had guaranteed entry - non refundable and non transferable - tickets which I bought.

I shoulda known better.  Remember how I've mentioned in the past about having a plan B?  Well this kind of ticket didn't leave me any wriggle room when things started not going according to plan.  The first indication this might be like trying to squeeze a square peg into a round hole was when both of us got sick with the "cold that doesn't leave" followed by the youngest grand having a very bad, horrible, no good day.  Changing our plans to another day was not an option.  We were locked not only into a certain day but also a certain time.  If we didn't go, we lost the money.  Period.  We were committed.

Since we couldn't devise a plan B, the next option on my list - going with the flow  - came into play.  Also, don't sweat the small stuff.

Legoland is for children.  No two ways about it.  In fact, adults can only gain entrance in the presence of one or more children.

The pictures on the left are all of the first room we entered.  In some ways, I think it was my favourite.  It was colourful, small and had different displays of legos.

Right off the bat, I discovered the first drawback to Legoland - or should I say going there as an emotionally damaged person.  People.  Tons of them.  All over the place.  Careening around.  Even the adults.  Walking directly in front of the camera.

Yet, I was still able to chill - and go with the flow.  Even if the flow was a bunch of humanity of all sizes, shapes, ages and descriptions.

Next in line, was a ride where you rode around in cars for four with laser guns and shot at the "bad guys".  My little laser light quivered all over the place but I did manage to get a little over 1000 points which I considered good ... until I looked around and saw that Papa had gotten over 7,000, my 9 year old grandson had gotten over 12,000 and the little lady, the demure little girl, had gotten over 14,000.

The ride is not compulsory, there is a pathway around it which a lot of people took, but I wanted to experience it all - and so did the grands.

To me, it was "grand" day.  Their desires were at the top of the list.  They mattered.  It was all about them.  As I think it should be.  After all, it's their Christmas present.

After the ride, we walked down a hallway which said "To Toronto" and entered a small room which - you guessed it - was full of lego recreations of Toronto.

I think that was my next favourite part of the place.  Except for the constant flow of people walking in front of the camera. it was a photographer's paradise.

Yet, none of that seemed to bother the grands.  It seems like they were caught up in the wonder of it all.  Not quite like little kids at Christmas, but almost.

I don't know about them, but I've never seen anything like this.

I was amazed.

This room was almost like going through a museum.  A museum of lego structures of Toronto.

There was the CN Tower and other recognizable buildings in the downtown core.  The harbour front was also represented with a lighthouse.

We followed the flow and entered the last - and largest - room in Legoland.  I don't know if I would call it a play room, activity room or what.  There are different activity centres scattered around - and off - this large room.

Off to our immediate right as we entered this room was the 4D theatre - which we decided to enjoy immediately.  Apparently, there are four movies which are shown in succession.  We saw one of the four.

Off to one corner in this larger room is another ride - which the children immediately spotted and wanted to go on.  It turns out that only 12 people can go on this ride at a time, so we joined a very slow-moving line up.

And this is where I got to really watch the grands in action and observe their personalities.

They played hand games with each other while waiting.  And bonded - with each other.

Usually, with three children they're divided - the boys on one team - and the girl alone.  This time, with the two older ones, I saw a vastly different side of their personalities and their relationship.  They stayed together.  They were a team of two.  They were mostly on the same page.  They actually seemed to like - and rely - on each other.

Those are the memories I took away with me, the ones I treasure in the "memory album" in my mind.

The way they entered the big room hand in hand wandering around, building racing cars.  Almost always together.

Grammy and Papa?  Well, I found myself a much needed cup of coffee and a bench to rest my weary bones on.  Papa joined me.

The ride in action

I'm afraid I have more pictures than words to share on this post, so I will let the pictures tell the rest of the story.  Because for me, I've realized that pictures is part of the way I think, part of the way I communicate - especially when the brain doesn't work as it should.

I hope you enjoy the rest of our memory trip.

Until next year .... may it be full of recovery and good memories to counter the bad stuff life throws at us.

The ride in resting position.

A life-size Santa's sleigh all built in legos

The wizard - in the background the ride the children went on

The build a racing car station - or controlled chaos as I call it

The budding engineer - or race car builder

On the way out

Bye Toronto!  By Legoland!

Surviving Christmas Post Workplace Abuse: The First "Memory" Gift

 Change.

Life is all about change.

Whether we like it or not.  Whether we acknowledge it or not.

The world changes as regimes come and go; as technology increases, etc.

The world I grew up in in the 50s no longer exists.

So why should I expect my life to stay the same?  To never change?

In my journey towards recovery post workplace abuse, I've learned not only to lean into the pain but also to embrace the changes.

For example, I no longer feel much excitement towards anything.  As Christmas drew near last year in 2013 there was no excitement.  No interest in joining the mad dash for presents.  Besides, there was no money to be spent on things that would ultimately clutter up a house and be discarded at some point.

So after some discussion with my one daughter, we devised a plan.  Give a gift that counts.  A memory gift if you will.  For my daughter and son-in-love, it was a child free day.  For my other daughter, it was a clean(er) house plus a carriage ride at Niagara on the Lake with her niece and nephews.  For the grands, it was the carriage ride to Niagara on the Lake with their Aunty (whom they love).  For me, it meant not having to endure the mobs at the mall and having a bonding experience with my grandchildren.  Also a picture taking spree.  A win-win situation for all.

As usual, mandatory camera went with.

It was a grey day, but not a cold one, despite the snow you see on the ground.  Except for the lack of sun, it was a perfect day for a carriage ride along the quaint streets of Niagara on the Lake.  Something none of us had done before.

Our first "memory" of the trip was a stop at a donut shop en route.  Me before me, decided to act as commander in chief of the "troops", I commanded the children to follow me and started marching towards the entrance of the shop singing Scotland the Brave.

My daughter began laughing uncontrollably.  The three children had lined up in single file and followed me - marching.

Arriving at Niagara on the Lake, we were plenty early so we scoped out the scene and then separated.  The boys went with their Papa (whom they adore); the granddaughter went with her Aunty; and I got me time.  To walk around, explore, and take pictures.

Arriving back where the horses and carriages congregate, we regrouped, found our carriage and driver and climbed in.

Now it might seem that I am favouring two of the children above the third in the pictures, but the truth of the matter is that one grandchild was nestled quite cozily beside Papa on the seat I was in.  The others were in front of me, directly in camera sight.  So I got to enjoy the carriage ride watching them enjoy the carriage ride.

After the carriage ride was a mandatory cup of hot chocolate for all.  We did lose one member of the family, Papa, and after a while I went out to find him and corral him.  But that only adds to the memories, the uniqueness of the day.

Our next stop was just down the street several miles:  Niagara Falls.

By then it was getting late in the afternoon.  The sun was setting.  But it was still an enjoyable time.

We wandered down to a spot where we could see the falls.  I took pictures (duh!)  while the children enjoyed the falls.

Next stop:  supper at a restaurant on Clifton Hill.

I was determined to make this trip last as long as possible so that the parents could have as nice a gift as possible.

Finally, it was time to go home.

For me, some of the nicest memories are watching how the grands interacted with each other and the adults around them.  Seeing the small hands in Papa's or Aunty's bigger ones.  Trusting.  Happy.

Watching the various personalities unfold.  The demure little girl isn't so demure after all when she's throwing snowballs at her brothers - or chasing after them.

The two older grands following their younger brother and aunty hiding behind poles on the way to the hot chocolate place.

The way they chose their meals at the restaurant and communicated not only with us but with the server.

Watching the grands grow up and develop and seeing them as the individuals they are.

Watching their wonder at the things they were experiencing and seeing.

These are all priceless.  They cannot be bought at a store.  The memories will never entirely leave them - or me for that matter.  Not as long as I have the pictures, that is.

As the Christmas season of 2014 was approaching, rather than stressing over what I no longer have, I was realizing what I do have and how priceless it is.

It is time now to close this post with a few last pictures of that memorial day and the thought that while I lost a lot because of the workplace abuse, I also am gaining a lot in the process of recovery.  Things I would never have gotten otherwise.

Among them, the realizing that relationships, especially those with the people closest to you, are what matters.  Not what others on the periphery i.e. workplace of your life think.

Until my next post ....