Trust

Trust is one of those things that should be easy to define, quantify and understand. It’s one of those things you know when you have or don’t, can give or take away.

Or have stolen.

In 99% of my life I’m a trustworthy and pretty honest guy. Ask me to do something and, if it’s in my power, it will get done. I think I’m more than ‘cash register’ honest and don’t often go out of my way to hurt people.

But.

But tell me I cannot do something and I become petulant and selfish like no one you’ve ever met. And that hurts people. 

People I care for more than life itself.

I’ll tell you I would do anything in the world for my lady. And I would.

Except for the one thing she insists upon. 

And I don’t know why.
She is not an unreasonable person and her request is quite simple, yet it’s one I routinely fail at. Oh, there are long periods where I don’t let her down, where I can justify her trust in me. But, then there’s the fail. 

I don’t for the life of me know why. I can’t predict when it will happen. I just know it will hurt both of us deeply.

It hurts her because once again I’ve proven I can’t be trusted. And it hurts me for the same reason.

When will I grow up? Be the man she needs? 

When will I be worthy of her trust?

Father’s Day

So Father’ Day has come and gone.
For any fathers I may know, I hope the day was exceptional. 

My father included.

Father’s Day this year has given me pause to reflect. Something pretty amazing happened just prior to the day. A family I grew up with, girls who may have well been my sisters had accepted me back through ‘facebook’.
People I hadn’t seen or heard from since 2008 were interested, and more amazingly concerned about me. I was in awe. I’ve spent a long time ‘knowing’ I was unworthy, maybe hoping Kimmer hadn’t found out yet.
These lovely people were only disturbed by the fact I hadn’t let them know when I was at my lowest, sleeping on the street. Why hadn’t I let them help!

This weekend Kimmer and I went to a family reunion at her parent’s trailer park (insert your own joke here) and I met a multitude of people glad to see me and glad to see how I treat Kim.

There was a lot of joy.

And I was part of it.

Actual joy.

I realized since being in contact with my long lost ‘adopted’ family and being around the happy carnage that is my love’s family that I don’t have to be born into it to be part of a family. I only have to open my heart and let them in.

The man I call brother has no blood relation to me, but he is one of the most important people in my life. The people who found me will never lose me again.
And Kim’s family? Well, they just scare me.

What I’m getting at is whatever you call family, hold them precious, because they likely hold you that way too.

Happy Fathers Day

Again….

Wake up. Shower. Get dressed.

Head to BNI meeting.

Tune to ‘Elvis radio’ on the satellite. Hear the song.

Oh, hell, it’s the anniversary of Mom’s passing.

Has it been 7 years? Damn, it has. Should I do something? Yes, yes dammit!

But what?

Can I visit her grave? No.

I misplaced her ashes and haven’t been able to purchase a marker for her.

Wait, WHAT?? You misplaced her ashes??!! Great, just a great son. You messed up your life to the point where you lost your Mom’s remains.

You must be proud.

I had my Mom for 40 years. I had the privilege of buying her a home, of paying some great debt for her. The greatest privilege and gift I ever had was the ability to speak to her every day of my life. Not one day passed when we didn’t speak.

I was and still am a ‘Mama’s  boy’. And proud of it.

As I lay here with water streaming from my eyes I ask myself what can I do to celebrate my Mom today?

It’s been made apparent to me. 

Forgive myself and honour her memory.

I love you, Mom.
May God bless and keep your soul.

Screams

So, I’ve shared about the voices I hear. 

The voices that try to control me.

This lead to a massively uncomfortable conversation with Kim about how bad things can get. I expected as much.

I did not anticipate the voices’ reaction. They have redoubled their efforts. They scream in my head.

They scream awful things I’m supposed to accept.

How do I share this? 

How do I tell her?

My job as a man is to protect the ones I love. Ensure their safety. 

How do I protect them from my own self loathing?

The answer is “I don’t”…

I can be honest about the terror and agony I feel every second of every day, but I cannot hide it.

I cannot protect her from this.

I need to accept I cannot control these episodes I go through,  I cannot hide them from my family any longer. 

A man accepts responsibility for his actions, I must hold myself accountable for my mental health issue.

I must be better…..

Voices

Voices…………

Damn they’re loud. They scream, they long to be acknowledged. They lie.

They say things. They say you’re not worthy, they say you’re useless. They say… They say…

My doctors told me the voices aren’t real: take these pills, you’ll be fine. I eat their candy, I live their life, but the voices keep coming back.

I’m a family man, have the world’s greatest woman……ever. My lady’s kids adore me, as do I them (Lisa Brandt tell me if that’s wrong grammatically). I love my life. I have a job, I have amazing coworkers.

I’m blessed.

I’m cursed.

I wake up everyday and I tell Kim I love her & I go on my way. Then it starts. At the coffee shop, under the hood of the first car, or in the mirror of the shop bathroom….

“Who are you? You miserable prick, why do you live???”

And so on into the night. Every day.

Every

Day

Who do you tell?

Whom do you confess to?

You don’t , you live each day as you’re supposed to. You don’t tell.

You pretend you’re strong.

You muffle the voices.

Like a man.

A new..

So you’re cruising through life, paying (most of) your bills, keeping your family (relatively) happy. You feel pretty good about yourself. You’ve made mistakes, you’ve amended, you’re good.

Then.

Then you check in with your cherished aunt. The woman without whom your life would make no sense. The woman who has always had your back.

And the moment you always knew happen.

The moment when everything changes. 

You have moved away, you’ve attempted to rise above the flames of your hellish past. 

You’ve become the past.  

Assault on us All

What a week.

What a damned week.

My country was attacked twice. My home was assaulted. My family members were killed.

For what??

The cowards who performed these horrific deeds may have thought they were dedicated to some “Holy” cause, but clearly they were just twisted and manipulated. Pawns used by an offshore terrorist group preying on the weak minded and weaker willed.

Did they destabilize our governments? Did they weaken our economy? Did they break our will?

No.

They strengthened our resolve.

They turned Warrant Officer Patrice Vincent and Corporal Nathan Cirillo into fallen heroes. Symbols of the very real threat our brave Forces members face everyday.

These vile, failed terrorists did not strike fear in the heart of Canada. No, they created an enhanced sense of national pride, they created a sense of betrayal, revulsion. Moreover, they created unity.

They did, however, take away some of our innocence. A Canadian soldier had not been killed on Canadian soil as an act of war in two centuries.

In the very near future, I believe our military budget will be revised and expanded, our Members carrying (rightfully so) loaded side arms. Our security a little tighter. Our vigilance a little higher.

In our role of international peace keepers we’ve been more concerned with defending the defenceless, protecting the oppressed and fighting others’ battles than we have of protecting our own shores as strongly as possible.

Yes, Canada was attacked, but She did not cower. Our Forces were betrayed by those they swore to protect, but they did not run.

Canada did not panic.

Warrant Officer Vincent and Corporal Cirillo, stand down, lads.

We will stand on guard for you.

Being Thankful

Thanksgiving has just passed, I’ve today off, so it’s a great time to reflect upon my blessings.

I grew up in a financially stable house, never wanted for anything. When my family was together, we took trips, did things together and genuinely felt happy.

When that part of my life dissolved I ended up with two ‘step’ families. One that was all of a sudden there and one where my opinion was consulted and valued. Both families are made of good people. I’m closer to one than the other, but that’s just natural being how everything came together.

I’ve had some great successes in my life. Financially, materially and employment wise. I’ve had some horrific downturns. Addiction, homelessness, shunned by some family. I must admit I’m at least as grateful for the tough times as I am the good. The adversity has helped me appreciate the good times that much more. It’s often said at meetings that “I’ve had a good week with a few terrible moments”. I guess it’s a good way to emphasize the positive of any situation.

My life today is a great one.

I’m learning to grieve the losses in my life in a healthy way. Accept the time I had with people was the best it could be, allow myself to feel the sadness for the future that can never be.

I have an extended family now. Two step-kids I’m crazy about, in-laws who genuinely care. A mutt who’s a laugh to be around, a couple of cats.

And the woman of my dreams.

I’ve got a great brother, a few friends, a job and a roof. I’m a very lucky man. The pastor of my church quotes a statistic that says if one has a bed, a roof and a refrigerator one is in the top 3% of the world. I’m not sure how accurate that is, but I’ve been without all three and am grateful to have them back.

This seems a rather rambling post at best, suffice to say I have so many blessings to be grateful for im verging on overwhelmed.

I hope I remain thankful.

Who To Trust?

The CBC is reporting on a chain of ‘quick lube’ shops based in Hamilton. The gist of the report is a bunch of ‘ghost cars’ were serviced from bumper to bumper, equipped with cameras and sent for oil changes.

I wasn’t surprised to learn upon inspection a series of flushes and services, not required for the vehicle, were recommend by the “technicians”. The people who work at these places have no formal auto training, have served no apprenticeship, are sold a company line to sell, sell, SELL.

What I didn’t expect to learn was once the sale was made, often the service wasn’t provided. Just out and out thievery.

This pisses me because I uphold the highest of standards in any shop I run. If you wouldn’t recommend it to your Mom’s car, don’t recommend it to my customer.

There are two ways to look at this report. One, blow it off as a bunch of hamburger flippers turned oil change flunkies trying to make a quick commission on sales, the other is to believe the operators of these shops hold the public in such little regard that they would defraud them and jeopardize an already tenuous relationship between automotive service providers and the public.

As a professional, I get so frustrated at shops like this because the public thinks they represent me. They do not.

I’ve spent 30 years in shops becoming a professional I can be proud of.
If you come to my shop you get a licensed, qualified mechanic looking at your vehicle. Lube shops? Kids who have now real knowledge beyond what they’re supposed to sell.

Find a real mechanic, one you can trust, one who listens to you. One who takes pride in their trade.

Then take all your business to them. Some services will cost more, some less, some free. But you will develop a relationship. And people do not take advantage of those they have relationships with (as a rule).

If people heed this simple advice, crooked shops will not exist further.

Find someone you can trust.

And if they let you down, call me!

Boundaries

Boundaries have always been an issue for me. Not encroaching on other people’s, but allowing others to cross mine.

Saying “no” has always been difficult for me. Whether it be to an employer, parent, friend, family member or spouse, I’ve just never been able to say “no” and let it stick. Even if I manage to get the word out, I often feel guilty and change to “yes, I’ll be glad to”.

There are times when “no” is not an option despite ones feeling regarding the task. That’s understandable. We all do lots of things we don’t want to. That’s part of living in a society.

But, there are times when “no” should be a definate option. When safety is an issue, when it’s a matter of conscience or ethics, when one’s “personal space” is being affected.

For me, it’s the “personal space”. I rarely say “no” to an employer. Whether it’s stay late, go in early, go in on my day off or all of the above, I just don’t say “no”. The issue becomes one of resentment. I agree to do something I really don’t want to and try to justify it in my mind, but become almost instantly resentful. Not just of the person whom I’ve agreed to assist, but of myself for not being stronger.

Invariably I come to terms with the distasteful task at hand, realizing there is little option, except for me to accomplish it. But I become terribly resentful, disgusted and furious with myself. I spent years running and working for a delivery service owned by a former spouse. I hated every second of it. I worked all day at a garage I ran and drove until midnight.

On call 7 days a week.

Angry every second of it.

I’m trying to live my life with as few resentments as possible. Trying to be angry and irritable as little as possible. I have some issues in life I must deal with, employer issues, work condition issues. I have to be able to start saying “no” when required.

I have to accept my mental condition reflects on my family life. Resentment impacts my addiction issues. Anger and irritability make me unpleasant to be around.

Self care begins with a certain amount of selfishness. Just enough to know when too much is being asked of me. To know my limits and my limitations.

To understand “No” can be a sentence on it’s own.