Next Segment on the Chronic Journey

Lighthouse en route on ChiCheemaun Ferry from Toberymory to South Baymouth, Manitoulin Island
Ontario

I've broken this vacation (in Canadian "holiday") into small, more manageble increments because just  as we we were physically travelling on from one destination to another, seeing new sights, having new experiences, so was my body, mind and emotions.  No two days - or segments - were the same.

Each day was different.

The challenges that I detailed in my post "When the Acute Morphed Into the Chronic", fatigue, lack of energy, hypervigilism, etc., were still with me while other symptoms became evident as the days progressed.

The first change in my routine was that I would be exhausted by 7 p.m. and hit the bed - or air mattress - early.

Therefore, by my body calculations at midnight I'd been asleep for about five hours and felt like it should be around 2 or 3 a.m. while poor hubby was just settling down for his night's rest.

It made things just a little bit more interesting on the road to recovery trying to adapt to these changes - for both of us.

ChiCheemaun Ferry loading at South Baymouth for return to Tobermory

After Tobermory, we boarded the ChiCheemaun Ferry and headed across Georgian Bay towards Manitoulin Island - or what Hubby and I call the continuation of Highway 6 which takes travellers to the mainland and the Trans Canada Highway.

We've done that before while heading for various vacation destinations with children such as Saulte Ste Marie, Ontario and Pancake Bay on Lake Superior just above the Saulte.

This time was different in that it was just the two of us.  While we had an itinerary in our minds, after Tobermory nothing set in stone as in reservations, etc.  We were free to wander, stop where we wanted to and for as long as we wanted to.

Hubby had devised his own somewhat unusual method of helping me in times of crisis by putting my camera in my hands, me in the car and taking me somewhere with the instructions that when I wanted to stop for any reason, especially if it was to take a picture, he would stop.  He gave me control.

In retrospect I think that has been an integral part in my journey of recovery as workplace bullying is all about power and control.  At the end, those against me had all the power and control while I had none.  It was not a nice place to be.

Recovery is about regaining control.  Not control over others - even hubby.  Control over myself.  Allowing me to control our stops was huge for me.

It was a gift.

This time we took it leisurely.  We lingered in South Baymouth, wandering around the souvenir shops and the harbour/marina area.

I got the above picture of the ChiCheemaun ferry as it was leaving South Baymouth and heading back to Tobermory.

This was the very picture I'd had lined up in my camera sights several years before.  Just when the perfect picture, the perfect opportunity presented it, when I was just a second or so away from snapping the shutter, a tall man jumped across the boundary, stopped right in front of me, raised his camera and took the very picture I wanted.

The disappointment was so acute that I could feel it in my body.

I was angry at the man, but could do nothing about it.

I never dreamed that it would take two back to back stress breakdowns, a complaint against me by my former co-workers and an offer for me to resign by the company for me to finally get the opportunity to take this picture I had coveted a few years before.

South Baymouth at the tip of Manitoulin Island

After lingering in South Baymouth for a bit, we headed across Manitoulin Island on highway 6 towards Espanola and the trans Canada.  Again with the instructions to sing out when a photo op took my interest.

Traversing Manitoulin Island to the Trans Canada Highway at 10 Mile Point
Jesuit Mission Placque

We'd driven past 10 Mile Point and this placque about the Jesuit Mission to Manitoulin many times over the years, but had never stopped to take a look see.  To read it.  To savour the moment.  To take pictures.  To live in the present.  To be.

10 Mile Point

I don't remember why this place is called 10 Mile Point whether it's 10 miles from somewhere or because of the distance one can see on a clear day.  I only know that it was peaceful.  We were after Labour Day, so there weren't the people there might have been at other times.

Dilapidated House that Caught My Eye near 10 Mile Point

Our travels across Manitoulin Island ended with the Swing Bridge at Little Current.  It didn't take that long to cross it.  Probably only two or three hours.  After that, we travelled to Saulte Ste Marie where we spent the night.

However, this short segment in hindsight was huge in my journey towards recovery as no new symptoms presented themselves that day and the rest were held at bay while I was cosseted safe and secure in our car with hubby at the wheel.

Swing Bridge at Little Current, Ontario

This post may sound like a travelogue.  "Hey look at this beautiful part of Ontario!"

Or perhaps nostalgia.  A memory.

It is indeed a memory on the very beginning of my road to recovery post workplace abuse.  One to surely be savoured many times over.

It was one day in which while I was definitely still coping and coming to terms with the chronic additions which had recently been added to my life, I was vertical.  With my trusted hubby by my side, encouraging me, I was able to take a deep breath mentally and simply be.  Simply enjoy.  Simply live that one day, actually part of a day, in such a way that looking back I see the beauty, I feel the peacefulness rather than the bad things.

It was also a day in which between the two of us, we were able to deal well with the symptoms.  To enjoy the day.  To make memories to look back on.

Every Day is a Today

Challenging myself - parasailing on the Gulf of Mexico

Every day is a "today". 

Every day has potential and possibilities which at first may be unseen.

Take last Friday for instance.  Ironically, the day after I finished Monday's blog posting "Today".

It all started normally with the wake up alarm followed by the minutiae of my daily routine such as listening to the news, making the bed, getting coffee started and toast made, checking my cell phone, etc.

It actually had its beginnings three days before when I'd visited a friend "in the process of becoming.

Okay, she's fast transitioning to a friend, to pet her fur baby, knit, talk, etc.

This person has been a huge blessing to me and aid in my process of recovery since I was fired from petting kitties at the Humane Society last December for being bitten by one.  This person generously offered to allow me to come into her home and pet her Shihpoo.  I'm not really a canine person.  More of a feline person.  But her Shihpoo is fast making a convert of me.  He's small.  His curly hair is quite soft.  He snuggles quite contentedly grateful for my attention in a busy home with two children and assorted illnesses.

On my visit, my friend had been very, very down.  Life, her life, was getting to her that day in a way I'd never seen before.  With people in the family on the autism spectrum, with epilepsy and other health concerns, I'd have been in the fetal position huddled under something long before this.  However, this brave lady has kept soldiering on through more than four months of different illnesses, seizures, etc.

The day I visited, things got to her.  I sat with her on the couch, petted the Shihpoo - and listened.
There are times when words just don't cut it.

I can't fix her life.  Platitudes, homilies, what have you are not going to be helpful.  In fact, they're going to be harmful.

When I left that morning, she was feeling somewhat better. 

I was concerned and stayed concerned.

Which brings us to Friday.  I messaged this friend to see how things were going in her house.  She messaged back that she had an appointment and was trying to figure out logistics on how to get there and back.  Having had the pleasure of riding our transit system, I knew that for her to get to where she was going was doable but cumbersome and time consuming.  Without thinking I offered to take her to her appointment and made arrangements to pick her up in about an hour.

So far, so good.

Right?

Ummm.  I conveniently forgot two details: (1) this destination was outside my comfort zone so while I'd been there before, I'd never driven there; (2) 3 cm of snow (a little over 1 inch of snow) was forecast for that morning.

What I didn't realize at the time was that all three centimetres of snow was going to come down at once.

When I made the arrangements with my friend, snow was forecast but not coming down.  When I left the house snow was lightly falling - a flurry.

However, when I left my friend's house en route to our destination, the situation had drastically changed.  Most of the forecast accumulation had fallen during the brief time I'd been in my friend's home.

I felt like I should be singing Slip Sliding Away as the car went various directions on its own.

So here I was in the middle of a snow storm in rush hour traffic heading to a destination I've never driven before from a location I'm not all that familiar with.

Inching my way to our destination with my friend beside me performing the duties of a human GPS, we saw a van in the ditch.  I was happy it wasn't us.

We ended up in the wrong lane at a roundabout I was dreading, thus forcing me onto the wrong road. Since I was dreading this particular roundabout as it can be "interesting" to navigate on the best of days, so I simply turned left off the wrong road into a shopping area and ended up turning right onto the correct street.

No fuss.  No muss.  No roundabout.

Although I was unaware of it, we were almost at our destination.

Imagine my relief when I saw the destination area ahead of me.

I dropped my friend off at her location, parked the car and decided this was a good time to get my steps in for the day.

My "souvenir" of that trip.

This is where the adventure got even more interesting, and the real fun began.

I'm not sure how to describe this particular area we were in.  It's new(ish).  It's huge.  It's got several big box stores like a WalMart, a Lowes, my favourite camping store Adventure Guide, a PetsSmart, etc., several eateries ranging from Dairy Queen to Milestones and things in between, the medical building my friend was visiting that day and a cineplex.  It's huge.

I definitely felt more comfortable walking rather than driving.  I walked to the Lowes to look at their spring bulb selection.  And that is where and how I found the greenhouse my hubby is putting together in the picture above.  The very greenhouse I'd seen a couple of years ago in another home improvement store.  The very greenhouse I didn't buy at that time because I didn't have the money then.  The very greenhouse I"d been looking for since then.

Yahoo!

I was one happy camper on my way back to the medical building to pick up my friend.

After our frightening drive there, if given my druthers I would have left the car in the parking lot and either stayed there or found another way home.  However, I had my friend to consider who had other plans for the day and couldn't stay in the parking lot for the rest of the day.

So, the two of us planned a different route back to her house, one I was more familiar with and, therefore, more comfortable with.

Onward and upward - or is it outward - we went.  Again with my friend performing the duties of a human GPS.

What a difference an hour makes.  The roads that were treacherous when we drove there were bare and navigable when we left.  Our drive was actually pleasurable.  Uneventful.

Yay!

It was only later, after I got home safely that I realized that I had had not just one but two major victories that day.

I had not only willingly gone outside my comfort zone - without even a second thought.

I had driven in a snow storm - again unwittingly.

Although my adventure may have begun with singing "Slip Sliding Away", it ended with a loud, lusty and knowing me slightly off-key rendition of "Victory in Jesus" accompanied by my happy dance.

*****

Each day may begin - and end - the same way.  It's what you do in between that makes the difference.

Until the next time.

I wonder what adventure is coming next on my road to recovery.

Comfort Zones Are Only In Your Mind - Looking down on the town of Hamilton from the Niagara Escarpment

Today.

Our lives.  Our walks.  Our journeys are all composed of one day at a time.

The present.

The past does influence our present, but it does not necessarily tell me what today will be like.

A whole new day with a whole new set of possibilities.  Of potentials.

Each today is different.  New.  Exciting.

*****

Before we go into today, I feel I need to go into the two most recent yesterdays as they set the stage for today.

My yesterday was a day of coming out of the low mood, the over engulfing depression.  The sadness.

It began with a scheduled visit to a new friend who has generously offered to share her furbaby, an elderly ShihPoo, with me.  He is soft, cuddly and very very affirming.  He never complains and he is always happy for whatever attention I give and he gets.  Unconditional acceptance.

His human is great too.  Affirming. Even though she is going through her own difficult journey.  Difficulties I cannot even comprehend at times.

Next on my schedule was another previously planned visit, to another friend with another set of furbabies - one canine and two feline - for a special meal of pulled pork.  Cooked from scratch.

Conversation, acceptance, affirmation by all four - one human, one canine and two felines, plus Celtic music did wonders for my emotions.

This friend is also going through her own difficult journey.  One that began at birth when she was born with cerebral palsy.  Yet she is one of the most upbeat persons I know.

Now we move on to the day before, when I traveled 45 minutes one way to see my counsellor.  I had no idea if I'd be well enough to go, yet felt I had to.  So I stocked up on caffeinated coffee in my to go cup, prayed and headed off.

I'm glad I did.

I walked into that session totally down.  No spontaneous emotions.  No creativity.  Feeling how unappreciated I was due to cumulative stuff.

I left with the spark of spontaneity starting to return.  I left feeling better about myself.  I left with hope started to be restored.

Not completely well.  But better.  Definitely better.

*****

So now we come to today.  To the potential inherent in today.

Today offers a host of possibilities.  

A lot of potential.

It's not set in stone.  It's fluid like the river near my house.  Ever flowing according to wind and weather conditions.  Yesterday, it was high because of heavy rains.  Today?  Today, it will be different.  But still there.

And that's what journeying post workplace abuse (and a whole host of other chronic conditions) is like.

Enjoy your today.

AWOL

Absent WithOut Leave.  The old military term for taking off which has since been replaced in modern times to UA - Unauthorized Absence.  Both mean the same thing.  Both carry the same penalties in the military.

What about being UA in my blog?

What are the penalties?  None discernible in the sense that I'm not going to be hiding from and afraid of the MP (military police).  I'm not in danger of being hauled off to the brig nor am I going to be courtmartialed.

(You can probably guess by now that I'm addicted to such TV shows as NCIS, NCIS New Orleans and NCIS LA - hence the military terminology, references, etc.)

However, being reliable has been part and parcel of my reinvention of my blog since January.  I paired it down to three days a week, changed the name and the tone.  Five days a week was too much, too daunting for me.

Three days a week was more manageable especially since my brain was moving, creativity was bursting forth, words were coming.  Blogs were coming one after the other.  Sometimes more than one in a day.  Sometimes I would have several scheduled in advance.

Life - and my blog - was good.

Until ...

Until my entire life, brain, emotions etc. went  bust over the weekend.

I went from lots of ideas pouring into my mind into a dead spot.  A spot where no creativity flowed.  Where my body screamed "Surrender" in defeat and wanted to lie down and stay down.

It wasn't any one thing.  There was no crisis which happened over the weekend in my life.  In fact, my weekend was pretty good.  Not perfect but good.

It seems to have been a cumulative effect of things past rearing their ugly heads.

Times when I should have been appreciated such as in two workplaces, my family, volunteer work most recently the Humane Society but was not.

I ended up barely able to function, let alone think. 

I went to bed.  And slept.

So I gave myself permission to miss a blog posting.

Which has now turned into two blog postings.

The penalty will be lack of readership.  If my following, even though it's small, cannot trust me to post on those days I've said I will, then they were in all likelihood leave me.

After all, I've done this in the post.  Walked away from my blog posting only to stay away for weeks, months, years.

I told myself this time would be difference.  This time I would be faithful.  This time I would not fail nor fall.

And I did.

They say that success is picking yourself up one more time than you fall.

So I'm picking myself up once again.  Dusting myself off.

I'm here.

I'm alive.

I've picked myself up - once again.

So here is today's blog posting.

I continue to invite you to join me and walk with me in my journey post workplace abuse, with all the ups, downs, successes and failures.  With the continuing fatigue.  With the continuing low moods.  With the continuing victories.

I continue to invite you to not only look past my faults and failures but to even embrace them as part of life.  My life.  Your life.  All our lives.

After all, life is what happens when you have other plans.

Right?

*****

I am needy.  Very needy.  At times.  Sometimes needier than others.  I think it comes along with the territory of recovering from workplace abuse.  From the enforced isolation and exclusion.  Even though these things are seven years in the past, there are times they still come back to haunt me.  This has been one of those times.

I need encouragement on my road to recovery.  I need to feel appreciated.

We all do.

Encourage me.

But most importantly, look at the people closest to you and reach out as only you can and encourage that person today.

And so the journey continues.  One step at a time.  One word at a time.

Life - and my journey of recovery - goes on.

Where the Acute Morphed Into the Chronic

As life as I know it would, I wrote a very good blog posting this morning - if I do say so myself.  I was so excited about it. I saved it, I thought, scheduled it to post on Friday at 3 a.m., started another blog posting, and left to run some errands.  When I went to do the final edit, I discovered much to my chagrin and dismay that everything I wrote, even the captions of the pictures, etc. was gone.  All gone.  If I had the energy, I would cry.  Should I see what I can do to recreate it?  Or should I just post that today's blog is missing because the dog ate it?

Oh yes.  I don't have a dog. 

Our campsite at Lands End park in Tobermory, ON.  Hubby setting up.

There are times in life when you have a clear cut beginning to a different phase in a situation whether it be physical, emotional or both.  There are other times when you don't, when things just morph from one thing to another without a clear cut divide.  For me, when the acute phase following workplace bullying morphed into the chronic phase, there was a dividing point I can look at and recognize as we were heading to a camping vacation about six months or so after the first stress breakdown.

Although I knew I hadn't been feeling up to par, I had no idea that there was something called the chronic phase after a trauma much less what it looked like, tasted like and, most importantly, felt like. This is the phase that feels like it never ends.  The one with intangible, mostly vague symptoms which are both physical and psychological: a fatigue that never seems to end, lack of balance, hyper vigilance, combined with the aforementioned continuation of both cognitive/psychological problems and verbal screw ups.

Oh joy, oh delight.

Just what I didn't want and also  something I was totally unprepared for.

Decommissioned Lighthouse,  Tobermory, 

I hadn't been feeling my best for some weeks before we left for a car camping adventure the fall after the end for me at the workplace came and the breakdowns started.  My mind was definitely down for the count.  It wasn't working well enough to get all our gear together.  So helpful hubby put everything together.  He chose the tent, our small canoe camping one - which turned out to be a good decision as I started seeking places that felt safe and the smaller tent felt safer to me than the larger one we usually use for what we call car camping.  He also forgot to test things beforehand, so we had a few surprises and had to find a hardware store first off.

I had two indications right off that something was definitely off inside me.  First, I was always tired.  So tired, that functioning wasn't  happening and sleep didn't help.  I never felt refreshed after a sleep.  I still felt tired and draggy without any let up.

Second, is what I now know is hyper vigilance.  At that time, I didn't even know the term existed, let alone what it translated to in real life, my life.

As we were walking in the small town of Tobermory after getting set up at the campground, a young child ran past me whooping loudly just as she passed me.  I jumped.  I started breathing rapidly.  I was scarred and ready to run.  Only hubby's presence kept me vertical.

It was then we realized that going into a crowded, noisy restaurant was not going to happen.  So hubby suggested we go to the grocery story and buy sandwiches, drinks, etc. which we then took to the lighthouse to eat.  All around the lighthouse are rocks.  Big rocks,  Uneven rocks.  Hubby found a crevice in the rocks where we could be half hidden from other humans as we ate.  It was good.  Very good.

First crisis averted - barely.

Cedar Strip Canoe

While sitting in our little hidey hole, we had a good view of the water around us watching boats including this one which paddled ashore.

That first night, I was snuggled in my warm, down-filled sleeping bag by 7 p.m.

Cabot Head Lighthouse

We've been to Tobermory many times over the years so it was familiar to me.  Kind of a safe place for me.

This time we did different things than we'd done before.  Partly because of my symptoms but also because the weather was bad and most boat excursions were not going out.

Therefore, we went to Cabot Head Lighthouse for the first time.

Looking at the picture above, I look "normal".  I look like everyone else.  There is no indication that I have PTSD and trauma.  There is no indication that anything is wacky inside me.

That's what PTSD and trauma are about.  They're invisible to the naked eye.  One has to look below the surface.  Way below the surface to "see" it.  One has to engage the person in conversation and listen - really listen - and get to know them under the skin.  Get to know the person inside the outward shell.

Which most people don't have the time or inclination to do.

Cabot Head Lighthouse

At that time, I was still thinking that the exhaustion and fatigue I was experiencing were short-term and would go away soon.  I had no idea that not only had they come to stay but were in the process of making themselves at  home in my body.

I was still looking for ways to go forward in my life not only post workplace abuse but also post work.  I discovered that people who below to the friends of Cabot Lighthouse association could volunteer to spend a week or so in the lighthouse in the former lighthouse keeper's accommodations for a modest fee in exchange for volunteer work which could range from groundskeeping to lighthouse tours.

Cabot Head Lighthouse

We spent time inspecting the lighthouse, walking various trails around the grounds and, of course, taking lots and lots of pictures.

Sunset at Singing Sands, part of the Fathom Five National Park

No trip to Tobermory would be complete for us without a trip to Singing Sands especially at sunset where the above picture was taken.

Friends of ours were also in the area at the same time.  When we were at Tobermory at the same time, we would arrange to meet at Singing Sands to enjoy - and photograph - the sunset together.  This time, the weather was bad and hubby and I discussed if we should go to Singing Sands as we weren't sure that the other couple would come.  After some discussion, we went anyway.  Just in case.  It turns out the other couple had the same discussion and came to the same conclusion.

The picture above came out of that meeting.  That decision to go just in case the others did too.

It reminds me of how there is always hope in even the darkest of situations.

In my case, hope for healing.

Time to leave Tobermory and head on to new adventures.

As with all good, and even not so good, things must come to an end, so did this part of our adventure along with this part of the noticeable beginnings of the chronic stage post trauma.

We left on the ChiCheemaun (Big Canoe) ferry across Lake Huron on one side and Georgian Bay on the other to Manitoulin Island and from there to the mainland and the Trans Canada Highway.

This part of the adventure ended, but more both good and bad are around the corner.

Looking down from a passenger deck

*****

Although I've done my best to remember and recreate what I wrote this morning, it's not the same.  There are things added and there are things which didn't make it into this narrative.

Even though it's not the same as the original narrative, I hope it will still speak to you and let you know that you're not alone.

My Happy Place

Sitting with a new friend the other day who is going through many challenges, I asked her: "What is your happy place?" 

Where do you go when life overwhelms you?

For her, her happy places, the places where she finds relief from her constant battles with different illnesses are such things as tae kwon doe, the video game of warcraft where she can "smash" things and relieve the stress, knitting which is a great right brain activity and watching a favourite TV show.

We all need those happy places we can go to no matter what our life looks like.

In my journey of recovery, I have several happy places.  Cycling.  Walking.  Knitting. Watching DVDs, gardening ....

My favourite is to watch growing things grow in my garden. To watch them come up again year after year, grow, bud and then burst into full bloom all in good time.

In the very back of my long, narrow backyard is a flower garden which I created in memory of my mom shortly after her passing several years ago.  She loved flowers.  She had a garden for many years with both flowers and tomatoes.  She always started tomatoes from seed in the large picture window in the living room.  At some point, she branched out to other vegetables including squash.  I remember we ate squash one year until it was coming out of our ears.  She got got creative in how she cooked it.

In my yard, Mom's garden is mostly flowers - with the one exception of tomatoes grown by seed in my living room.  Under gro lights. No garden in her memory would be complete without at least one tomato plant started from seed

It makes me feel closer to her.  It's my way of honouring her memory in a tangible way.

Last year, for the first time since the "injury" from workplace abuse, I was able to do more things in the garden such as pulling weeds and  enlarging several areas in other parts of the yard.  I called those areas my "do it by self" gardens as for once I didn't rely on hubby for the heavy work.  I felt strong enough to do it by self.  I grew more flowers from seed and they flourished which brought joy to my heart and soul.

Daily, once it gets warm enough for things to start waking up from their long winter's sleep, I go outside and make a tour of my yard and see what new things are coming up.  What new things are blooming.

Spring is an exciting time for me.

I love the orderliness of nature how one type of flower proceeds another.  First are the late winter, early spring flowers such as snow crocus followed by other types of crocus which in turn are followed by daffodils and tulips.  Then comes the iris.  The parade of flowering plants goes on throughout the spring, summer and even fall.  A cacophony (visually) of colour.

Last fall, I planted more than 100 spring bulbs - my mom always liked the spring flowers coming up yearly in her garden - and am waiting for them to peak through the ground, grow and then bloom.

Just like cycling where each kilometre peddled is a huge victory for me, so is my garden.

Each weed pulled.  Each bit of border enlarged.  Each new plant inputted into the ground.  Each new bloom.  These are all victories on my journey of recovery.  Mixed in the back garden along with the flowers are the tomatoes.  For me, the joy is in growing them.  Eating their fruit is a byproduct.  A good byproduct.

As the spring and summer progresses, I like to sit on my patio in the evening with hubby on the new deck he built two years ago watching birds flitting about.  Drinking in all the colours of the plants in front of me. 

When I look at all the blooming things, I feel peace.  This is why this is my happy place. It is a place filled with peace in an otherwise chaotic world.

One Thing Leads to Another

My life is a series of interconnecting threads all involving the same person - me - going in different directions all at the same time.

For the purposes of this blog, I'm separating them out.  Kind of like teasing out the separate strands of knotted yarn.  Especially when they're all different colours connected to different skeins each of which will be used (eventually) for a different purpose.

So right now, we're looking at one skein, one colour of yarn.  A vibrant one.  A necessary one.  One which brings joy to my life.  One which makes me feel vibrant and alive.  

A happy place.

One which has been significant on my personal road to recovery post workplace abuse.

Cycling.

*****

In my life I tend to go with the flow.  I start out with a plan but then it kind of morphs into it's own thing.

Take cycling for instance.

What started as a simple goal to get out of my house and become more active morphed into a journey of sorts.

A journey of adventure.

It began with a parking lot cycling round and round and round again - in both directions.

Then it morphed into challenging myself to master what we locally call the Lancaster Hill - because it's a steepish hell on Lancaster Street.

I mastered that hill - once - two years in succession.  On my first mastery, I found myself sitting on large rocks outside the Tim Hortons which sits at the top of this hill breathing heavily, resting to get enough strength to go back down the hill and home.

I stopped a passer by who gladly agreed to capture this moment of victory on my cell phone.

I'm inordinately proud of every milestone I make on this road to recovery.  Especially this one on this bike.

She's exactly what I need to be able to ride again, but she is one heavy sucker.   She's also not as manoeuvrable as a two-wheeled bike.

What can I say?

She gets the job done.

By the way, she now has a name: Freedom Hope.

Just in case you're interested.

The adventure morphed some more once I got a car with a trailer hitch so my bike could be taken to different areas.

I have a fertile imagination.  That fertile imagination led me - and my bike along with my long sufferin', ever lovin' husband - to Tobermory, Ontario at the tip of the Bruce Peninsula.

No major reason except that I just wanted to and that Tobermory is part of my "comfort zone" in ways as we've been there many times over the past

The weekend that worked for us turned out to be the weekend of Tobermory's annual ChiCheemaun festival named after the ferry which takes people and vehicles across Georgian Bay on one side and Lake Huron on the other to Manitoulin Island and from there to the Trans Canada Highway.

Cycling Tobermory was more of a challange than I had bargained for.

For one thing there were hills.  Lots of them. All over the place.

Riding an adapted bike has it's good qualities - and it's negative ones.  It's not as maneuverable as a two-wheeled bike.  It's not lean and mean.  More like overweight and clumsy.

It does get the job done, but has it's own challenges.  I discovered much to my chagrin that some of the roads are built on a slant.

My bike with that extra pair of wheels on the bike doesn't do slants.  It tends to develop a mind of it's own and go one way or the other.  Hence the middle picture.  Freedom Hope bucked me off.  Fortunately it was a soft landing.

Riding around Tobermory led me to cross paths with with this cardboard and duct tape monstrosity: a "rubber duck" cardboard boat for the annual cardboard boat race in Little Tub Harbour in the heart of Tobermory.

It was hysterical.

One of the best experiences I've had in my journey of recovery.

In addition, while talking with the family who built the duck boat, I discovered that a huge, six story tall rubber duck was coming to Toronto Harbour for Canada's 150th anniversary of Confederation.

Which led to another adventure.

Not to Toronto.  Oh no.  Hubby does not like big cities.  However, we discovered that this giant rubber duck was going to make a short tour of Ontario.

The next stop after Toronto was Owen Sound which is a day trip for us.

We got there early.  And just walked around.  Me with my camera around my neck taking pictures of anything that caught my fancy.

No, I didn't have my bike with me.  I did have my camera and my hubby - which were just as good.  Actually, even better.

Just going out and doing things makes a huge difference on the road to recovery.

Looking at the pictures aka memories aka endorphins of that day keeps the journey alive.

The journey that is not just about cycling but about reclaiming what I lost in the workplace:  ME!

After all is said and done, I can definitely say: "I saw the Rubber duck".

And I'll even let you touch me.