Travels With Suzy

Long ago, in a far away time called high school, I had to read a book called Travels with Charley by John Steinbeck about his travels across America with his poodle Charley.

I thought about that book, or at least the title, as I started this blog posting this morning.

I'm not a published writer unless you count this blog and a few Sunday school papers back in the early '90s..

I didn't travel across America to chronicle the event.

Although I travelled in Canada, I definitely didn't travel across it.

I didn't have a dog of any description with me.  

What I did have was my ever lovin', long sufferin' and faithful hubby.

And my camera.  Always my camera.

This post isn't about discovering America.  It's about discovering me as I navigate my way through the beginnings of the chronic affects in my journey post workplsce bullying.

Especially in this very early, life altering part of the journey.

Near Pancake Bay, Ontario

After the events featured in the last post, we headed north to the tip of Lake Superior, then West to the turn off for Manitouwadge.  Once a mining town, houses are now cheap and many seniors buy their retirement homes there.  Two of these relative newcomers to Manitouwadge are Tom's cousin and his wife. So we decided to visit them and take a look see.

At that time, after the things that had taken place in the work place such as cyber stalking on Facebook, complaints to management after I was gone and a petition disguised as a formal complaint, I was very afraid of the people I had once worked with.  I never knew what they were capable of doing.  Even though I was now gone from the workplace, I walked in fear of them daily.  Especially in the mind of my life.  I was thinking about moving away - far away - from the area I live in.

It's not as drastic a move as you  might think.  In the weeks and months post abuse, post trip, post chronic "altered" abilities (or disabilities), I learned that at least one other person in the universe was so fearful of her antagonists that she changed her name.  I thought of that too.

After signing away my rights at a local donut shop with only the Union VP in attendance (I still wonder if that was legal) while still on sick leave, I wailed that I was afraid of what these people might still do to me.  His answer:  "Nothing is going to happen to you that you don't initiate first."  ????  I wailed "How did getting sick initiate anything?"  He didn't answer.

At that time, I had no idea why these people were persisting in their bullying and animosity outside the walls of the workplace.

I only knew I could not anticipate what these people were capable of doing.

It scared the hell out of me.

As the acute started to morph into the chronic, these fears were very much with me which made every act of going outside difficult.  Scary.

One thing though, I knew from observation that none of these people was likely to do and enjoy the same things that I did.  None of them was likely to be camping in the areas we were camping at the time we were on this trip.  They liked the party atmosphere while I liked the nature/photographic atmosphere.

Heading north along the shoreline of Lake Superior was initially fairly familiar to us as we had camped just past this service centre several times at a provincial park called Pancake Bay in years past.

We had even gone so far one year as to see the pictographs in Lake Superior Provincial Park one year.

After that though, we were in unfamiliar yet interesting in its unfamiliarity territory.

Wawa, Ontario

Although I'd heard of Wawa, I'd never been there.  It was quite the adventure for me as we turned off the highway and headed into the town where I got my first glimpse of the Wawa goose.  Although by this time, my hypervigilance with accompanying anxiety and fear of people was part and parcel of my existence, I remember venturing into the general crowded store and wanting desperately to avoid all the (scary) people and escape.

The Manitouwadge sign at turnoff to Manitouwadge on the Trans Canada
Manitouwaded is another 30 or so minutes North

This is your first glimpse of Manitouwadge.  The welcome sigh.  Which is placed on the main highway at the turnoff to Manitouwadge - a good 30 minutes north of this intersection.  I love it.

We enjoyed a hearty welcome from Tom's relatives.  What I loved most was that we had our own room away from others; a safe place for me in my constant state of hypervigilence and fear of people.  We had heat!  Yay!

The town had at that time two grocery stores, one of which was soon to close, a closed motel, a park with a lake near the town centre, several churches, several stores, a community centre, a library, a school, a medical centre, an OPP detachment and a ski slope.  I was told that it also had a lot of bears some of which would walk down the centre of the town streets.  Ironically, I was less afraid of a possible bear encounter than I was a people encounter.

Returning to the Saulte, we spent the evening strolling around the St Marys River enjoying the sights and, as always, taking pictures.

By this time, more residual, chronic affects had set in along with the ever present fatigue, lack of energy, and hypervigilence.  I was now experiencing balance problems.  Yet, I look back on these pictures with fondness and nostalgia. 

Despite the physical problems, life with hubby and travels with Suzy were still good.

I leave you now with selected pictures from that evening walk in the Saulte along the St. Marys.

Enjoy

The MS Norgoma, Saulte Ste Marie

I hope I'm not boring you with these narratives about this time in my life and journey post workplace abuse; however, it was a significant time on the journey towards recovery.

The part where recovery took a definite downward turn as the physical became involved.

Most of these affects I still deal with in one way or another 7 years on.

However, it's not about the disabilities or what I like to call "altered abilities" so much as how the individual can carve a workable life despite them.

An Early Adventure

Ahhh ... home sweet home (away from home)

When most people think of an adventure, they think of things like skin diving, snorkelling in clear blue waters, swimming with porpoises  climbing a mountain, back country camping, skydiving.  Any number of things.  Some more challenging both mentally and physically than others.

I have done some of those things during what I now term the first part of my recovery process.  The part before the "severely stressful situation" escalated to a point where it consumed all of my waking - and probably sleeping - hours.

During the first part of the recovery process, I started to feel "comfortable in my own skin".  I re-created relationships with those who were the most significant to me - my husband, my children, my sister, etc.  I learned to value people and to accept not only who I am but who they are.  I learned what my strengths and weaknesses were and to accept them.  Ditto with those closest to me.  I no longer demanded from them things which they could not do nor did I demand from myself things which were not in my mental, psychological, or intellectual make up to do.

I began to talk to Papa Bear and get to know him.  Really know him.  To learn what was important to him.

As a result, I went on four canoe camping adventures starting at the ripe "young" age of 58 - each different from the other.  I started out not wanting to go at all.  I was a city girl - born and bred.  Although I did enjoy car camping or what I called "civilized" camping, packing everything I would need for several days with only a flimsy canoe for transportation over deep water into bear country.  No way!  And then I came to realize that this was important to Papa Bear.  This was something he really wanted to do.  And he wanted to do it with me.  He wanted to share his adventures and love for this kind of camping with me - his wife of something like 27 years.  So I decided to honour him.

He also decided to honour me.  He listened to what I had to say and we compromised.  We would have an outfitter completely outfit us:  tent, food, utensils, sleeping mats, sleeping bags canoe, paddles, PDF's (personal floatation devices), even the bailing bucket.  In short, everything we would need, except our clothes.

The sentinel - and which way did you say you were going?

Even though I was afraid of many things:  water, specifically traversing deep water in a flimsy canoe which are prone to tipping over and dumping their contents, humans included, into the deep never to be seen again.  Add to that, bears, and the possibility of getting lost, stolen or strayed, I was not a (potentially) happy camper.

Some of the most incredible scenery I've ever seen

Nonetheless we made the arrangements and the day arrived.  The canoe was loaded and in the water.  I looked at this tiny canoe bobbing about in the choppy, deep water and seriously considered running away.  But then, I figured that probably wouldn't work and it would be best to go to my impending doom quietly.

The outfitter advised us to stay close to the shore because of the brisk wind stirring up the water - which calmed me down some as I figured that I could handle.  Until I realized Papa Bear had no intention of adding extra paddle strokes (and metres) to our journey.  Since I (newly demoted crew bear) was in the front of the canoe with the newly promoted Captain Bear in the back, I really didn't have much choice but to stay in and "enjoy" the ride.

It didn't take me long to realize that while we both had a map (the same one), there are no signs out on the lake telling us which way to go to get where we intended.  Also, I realized early on that there are no canoe-through Tim Hortons or McDonalds.  What you bring is what you eat - for as long as the trip lasts ... or the food holds out.  Hopefully, the former rather than the latter.

The master bushwhacker at work

The trip was purported to be "easy" - easy being relative in this case.  Three days, two nights, three portages.  What the literature didn't say is that is was at least six hours of paddling plus one portage that although not very long was almost straight up.  Later we learned that it was called the Devil's Staircase.

I hadn't done anything in the way of physical preparation.  No walking.  No bicycling   No exercising.  Nothing.  I began to breathe hard and give out on the Devils's Staircase.  My right wrist (carpal tunnel) began to throb.  My whole body began to ache.  All I wanted was a 4-star hotel, a good cup of coffee and a nice warm bed.

What I got was a campsite, a tent Papa Bear had to put up, a tylenol (thank God for Papa Bears who come prepared with first aid kits), a small rest while Papa Bear put up the tent and unloaded the canoe and then supper - which I made with a one-burner stove perched on a rough bench.

First attempt at cooking back country style

Our "hotel" came equipped with one rough-hewn bench, a firepit and a thunder box.  No shower, pool (unless you count the lake) or hot tub.

The master firemaker in action

It did come with an awesome bonding experience with God and with my ever-lovin', long-sufferin' spouse.  It came with challenges.  It came with those special moments you remember long after like the time we stood sheltered under a large evergreen watching the rain fall on the lake in front of us while we stayed dry.  It was like standing under a huge umbrella.  That experience alone was worth the trip.

As always, I had my trusty, dusty "other" companion, my camera, with me and took shot after shot of the beauty around me.

The buffet aka bear barrel - containing all our food

After we safely arrived back on tierra firma - or back to civilization (that term also being relative), we debriefed.  Papa Bear wanted to know what I had been afraid of.  What I liked best about the adventure.  And, most importantly, would I do it again.

Without hesitation, this born and bred city girl answered without hesitation a resounding "Yes".  Yes, I would do it again.

And so, we began to plan the next year's adventure.

An example of how another camper passed the time 

An Accidental Adventure

According to Wikipedia: An adventure is an exciting or unusual experience; it may also be a bold, usually risky undertaking, with an uncertain outcome.^[1] Adventures may be activities with some potential for physical danger, such as skydiving, mountain climbing or participating in extreme sports. The term also broadly refers to any enterprise that is potentially fraught with physical, financial or psychological risk, such as a business venture, a love affair, or other major life undertakings.

Over a year ago, when the chronic affects of fatigue, hypervigilence, severe itching, loss of cognitive skills and memory loss reared their ugly heads and took over my life completely changing it, adventure became something I watched in a movie, read in a book, or experienced vicariously through others.

Going outside the den into the big world outside to appointments, etc., became a struggle.  Not because of agoraphobia, although it can be a result of the stress and trauma I went through, but because I no longer had the physical, emotional or cognitive capabilities to navigate the outside world on my own.

My world became constricted, most of the time, to my house.  Especially to one room.  The one I call my office.  The one which houses almost everything I need to sustain life as I know it:  the computer, DVDs, CDs, books, my yarn stash.  In short, everything I need to survive - except the bed, the kitchen and the bathroom.

So when I had an appointment with a specialist in another town about an hour from my den, it presented a challenge.  Factor in that our one and only car (complete with hubby) was in a different town in a completely different direction that day plus all the people I would normally call on for a ride were not available, the challenge escalated.  I seriously considered cancelling the appointment - until my loyal supporter, aka daughter bear, said that if I were doing better she would suggest taking a bus.

Thus began what became an "accidental" adventure.  Problem-solving discovered how to get there (and back) by bus.  Brainstorming with Papa Bear came up with a plan.  He would drop me off and continue on to where he had to be, thus getting me not only to the city in question but to the exact geographical area.  I only had to find my way back - a one-way challenge.

The day arrived.  I was experiencing a lot of angst especially as the ability to speak sometimes deserts me in strange places, and I appear to be mentally disabled to outsiders.  (You've never lived until you've seen people react to you as though you're mentally challenged - or worse.)  Daughter bear suggested I write everything down so that if I couldn't speak coherently, I could show people where I needed to be.

I programmed in the GPS and we were on our way - to the scary unknown.

Arriving close to our destination, it was clear that something was amiss when we drove past a run down, two-story brick building which was supposed to be the correct address.  Oh!  The street had an east and a west.  We were on West, so we tried East - and Voila! like magic the correct building appeared.   Although hours too early for the appointment, we walked to the building, got in the elevator and found the correct office.  Even though it was obvious (at least to me) that I wasn't operating on all four cylinders mentally, the receptionist was delightful (maybe she's used to strange patients).  She confirmed the appointment and gave us directions to the bus station since I would have to find it after the appointment on my own.  

Even though her directions were very simple, I found it difficult to comprehend them.  This is where Papa Bear's unfailing love and help came in.  Together, we found the right exit. Together, we walked to the bus station.  He stayed back while I purchased my ticket home.  Together we walked back to where he had parked the car and prayed for successful ventures for both of us.  Me to my appointment and later home by bus; him to another city to take a course. 

Then I was on my own.  Alone in an unfamiliar city for the first time in a long time.  Alone.  Yet, thanks to Papa Bear equipped with everything I needed to survive: knowledge of where the appointment and the bus station were; my bus ticket purchased.  I had my cell phone, a book and a project to knit.  I had what was left of my tattered and battered cognitive skills - which although submerged but are still in existence.  I had people praying for me and routing for me.

It was not an adventure in the sense that most people would comprehend.  I didn't climb a mountain or vault over a tall building in a single bound.  But I did manage to navigate in a strange city - alone - for the first time since the stress breakdowns.  Away from all the familiar.  Away from all the supports I've built into my daily life and routine.  I challenged myself - and I succeeded.

I am proud of myself for that.

My one regret:  I did not bring my camera along to visually preserve the adventure.

Maybe next time....