Running on Empty…
John and I met each other in the midst of chaos, when we are definitely not at our best but rather most fragile and vulnerable….As Malcolm Kelly so aptly wrote in an article in the National Post on our story “We were two peas in a broken pod” Finding kinship in one another was a well needed comfort through such troubled times and our ability to still find humour in the black comedy of life was a strong bond and still is even to this day. With John’s quick wit and his natural sense of timing you could always count on him to cut the tension in a situation. 

By the fall of 1988 our personal circumstances were no better and with little chance of improvement in the near future John candidly remarked “You know, even death is starting to look good!” Keeping this thought in mind and being naturally free spirited John decided he wanted to hit the road on his own adventure to California as I admittedly carried a lot of emotional baggage which was the last thing he needed if he was to heal himself. 

With a heavy heart I packed his suitcases and in it I tucked three socks with a note saying “I always knew you had 2 left feet!” knowing he might need a laugh from a familiar friend when he arrived down there. With nowhere else to go I made arrangements to stay with my sister Glennis in Hope, BC so I could get my life in order and John was to set off on his own heading due south to the coast of California. 

I will never forget the overwhelming sadness I held silently inside as I hugged John for what may have the last time in my life. I didn’t want him to know how much I would miss him, having so much on his own plate to worry about already. So with a brave smile and a loving wave I watched him as he drove off in his old Volvo until he completely disappeared from view… 

Heartbroken I trudged on but I felt completely numb inside afraid if I allowed any crack in my emotional armour I would suffocate and drown in the ensuing flood of them. To my rescue once again a few weeks later I got the one phone call I had been praying for… It was John! 

He had read my note and missed me and asked if I could fly to San Francisco and join him. I felt like I had just been let out of jail! Within two weeks of his call I found myself living in a converted garage turned bachelor pad in Carmel California and I couldn’t have been happier… 

Just think for a moment… 

Here we were 2 people who had just recently met, having experienced significant successes in our past, both of us pretty much having lost everything. Our marriages crumbled, estranged from our families, no contacts with anyone and now in a completely strange environment without any agenda or direction… 

What would you do when faced with such adversity? There was no safety net and definitely no time for self-pity nor second guessing oneself… It was literally do or die… Our secret… Keeping one’s sense of humour intact and then just getting into action and do whatever is necessary to improve the situation. 

John was the driving force behind us and always jumped right in with both feet wherever we went which gave me more courage to overcome some of my many fears also. With his keen eye for cars and his outgoing personality John managed to keep us afloat and I quickly became his right hand “man” Pitching in any way I could., cleaning cars, driving, and when possible finding part time jobs when needed. I remember working as a cocktail waitress in Monterey at Fisherman’s Wharf with no clue of what to do but I compensated for my lack of skills with my friendliness and enthusiasm for the job. 

Knowing my awkwardness with the corkscrew anytime I had to deliver a bottle of wine to the table one of the other waiters would willingly step in for me. It worked wonders but I definitely was not cut out for the job! 

We never really stayed in one place for long as John once again felt the urge to keep adventuring on being in the free spirited mindset we were now becoming used to. Our travels took us from Carmel to the east Bay area of San Francisco where I had grown up as a little swimmer and saw my old school and the pool where my Olympic dream got started. 

We drove up and down the coast looking for old classic cars to fix and sell. We even started a used bike place in the back shed of an apartment building in Santa Barbara. Driving up the Ventura Highway we would buy a crate of old broken down bikes from the Salvation Army Auctions in Oxnard and then refurbish them in our shed and resell them on the weekends. 

We had quickly made friends with an ex New England Patriot football player named Bill who had also fallen on hard times and he knew a lot about fixing bikes. His Dad had owned a bike shop in Boston so he volunteered to help us out with the project. The stories he told us kept us amused for hours as we went about spray painting seats and repairing frames to make them look like new…

I remember the shed was full of spiders and John donned this heavy duty breathing mask which looked like a level 4 bio suit spraying the dickens out of the place!! No matter how adverse our situation became somehow we still managed to find the humour in it and more importantly John and I saw the real spirit in one another. Without those things surely we never would have made it that far.

Skeletons In Our Closet…
Finally in the fall of 1990 John and I decided to leave California and return home to Canada to face some of the skeletons in our closet from whence we had initially run. Feeling a bit stronger than when we had first met we figured coming home would be relatively easy. Wrong… Sometimes assumptions can be a shortcut to death…. 

We were about to learn more lessons in short order…Although I had made some emotional progress in those few years in California I didn’t realize I still had a long way to go before I was to clear the emotional damage of my past. Coming home to Vancouver and my family was to prove to me that I had been living in total denial of the truth of my past and I had spent all that time running away from it rather than facing it. 

Having little communication with my family over most of this time we decided to drive up and surprise my parents who were now living in Summerland. Being a small town we soon found them having coffee in the local café. I will never forget my mother`s face when she saw me walk in to greet them. If looks could kill then I wouldn`t be writing these words today… With a look of scorn and shock that only the grim reaper would receive I felt like a cold dagger had just been thrust into my heart… Time sometimes does not heal and sometimes things you wish for just don`t happen… 

Immediately the flood of old emotions came rushing in and I felt like the small little girl that hid in her room from her Dad`s tantrums and her mothers` detached demeanour. Alone once again in my make believe world of stuffed animals who had taken on life like qualities to comfort me. The brain is such an amazingly complex organ because it just clicked in on automatic pilot saving my shattered soul inside while trying to regain my emotional equilibrium feigning normal conversation with them and saving face in front of large crowd in the café. 

That was a very hard lesson… Wishing and hoping something will just magically change is pure fantasy or just  plain denial… Being emotionally wounded as we all inevitably are, individually we choose to deal with it very differently, But the main player for me personally in my emotional bag of tricks was denial. Through my own experience I now know that this is useful only as a temporary mental recess A grace period to get you through an immediate crisis but not a permanent state of mind. Thinking this way kept me from my own healing. 

Holding on to past disappointments and emotional wounds take a long time to even recognize and bring into conscious focus. Until I did this and dealt with the facts without creating some fictitious reality there was no hope for change let alone for the healing process to begin. I have also since learned that confronting the truth of our lives can be a very painful and drawn out process but nevertheless a vital component in the healing mechanism. I found that persistence and trust in this process will eventually lift the layers which need shedding and just like old skin it allows room for the new cells to  regenerate and grow afresh. The lesson implied is that we need to get out of our own way before we can begin
to heal… 

Trust in it as you trust in your body to regenerate itself also. There can be no growth from old wounds only scars… Having been shaken to the core by the reality of my family reunion I still fell into the same old traps of my past nevertheless. I guess old habits and beliefs really do die hard or maybe just resurrected every time we think the same thoughts… Sometimes it`s really hard to comprehend the depth and complexities of our emotional tapes which spin round and round in our heads even though our intellectual brains and levels of intelligence seem quite normal. This is the enigma and holy grail of psychology. 

What is it that defines us? What makes us cross the line from seemingly normal to falling off of it? And who chooses where to place this line anyway? There is no blueprint to life. We must all make our own indelible marks on the canvass of our lives and paint them with as much colour and joy as we can. 

The mistake is often we allow others to not only choose the brush but the paint also… Life is yours to create so be imaginative, be unique and most importantly be yourself… But I am getting ahead of myself so as I was saying that I quickly fell back into the old patterns of thinking being once again surrounded by the familiar. 

Hoping once again that I would be accepted and welcomed into the systems and people who once rejected me and burned me. How stupid could one be? To be quite honest over the next couple of years John and I struggled with our personal demons still making only incremental improvements to our emotional healing. We moved several times back and forth between Vancouver, Victoria and Toronto. John had some success in his business but always we were up and down financially like a roller coaster but never hitting any real highs… just surviving as always but keeping our sense of humour.

Planning Our Escape…
Growing weary once again we longed for another real adventure… Life to us had become tedious and stale so we decided to apply for an American Green card through a worldwide lottery which was almost a zero to none chance to win it. I`ll never forget it was in the dead of winter we were in Kelowna BC and we received a phone call from John`s ex-wife Shirley, as we had all become good friends by then. She explained to us our Immigration lawyer in Toronto was trying to reach us with good news. John had been picked as one of the Green Card winners and must apply as soon as possible for an American Visa! 

It couldn`t have come at a better time as I was really having a hard struggle emotionally. Over the last several months John had set up a therapist to try to salvage my relationship with my parents whom had come in on a couple of sessions. The whole thing turned out to be a complete disaster and only dredged up deep old wounds. 

They refused to take any responsibility on their part and remained in total denial expressing no degree of empathy or compassion for neither me nor this pathetic situation whatsoever. As a matter of fact the counsellor called my mother venomous towards me and the whole exercise only made me feel worse. 

Adding to my misery at the time l my eating disorder in the form of anorexia flared up once again. I think it ran in the family because my sister, Glennis had suffered it as a teenager refusing to eat. Eating disorders where unheard of back in the early to mid-1960’s no one had a clue what it was or for that matter even existed as a medical condition. 

They forced her to drink milkshakes because she was so thin and wouldn’t eat a proper meal. It was painful to watch her even as I picture it today… That should have been my first clue that something was emotionally awry with my family dynamics but then again I had long withdrawn into my fantasy world pretending my family was something out of Walt Disney movie and I was Miss Pollyanna trying to appease everyone. 

My eating or should I say lack of it started immediately after my daughter Shannon was born. Wanting to lose the extra pounds quickly I went on a very strict diet. That really sent my system into a tailspin. I got completely carried away with it that it became an emotional habit that was beginning to become a chronic problem. I had to grapple with its control over me for the next several decades. 

Sometimes the disorder lay dormant but would always find a vulnerable moment in my emotional armour and would once again rear its ugly head and send me into another battle with it. I have come to understand that the seed of my disorder was feeling a lack of self-worth and control in the circumstances of my life. 

Through the distorted lens of the pathology of an eating disorder I assumed that by controlling food I could reclaim my own power. However in reality by denying myself nourishment which subconsciously symbolized nurturing I was in essence cutting off the life flow and any hope for healing both physically and emotionally. I also know that by identifying the root cause of an emotional wound which quite often manifests itself in a physical form gives one a very powerful antidote with a very good chance of a long term cure. 

However in the midst of my emotional entanglement with my parents back then I was having a hard struggle both physically and mentally. Obviously I still was unable to let go of the psychological l stranglehold my parents and that of my past had over me. The bonds held much too deep and too strong for me to break them even after all that time had passed. This was real low ebb for me. I felt like there was no hope for me to break away from my past and release myself from its unyielding grip. 

Therefore the wonderful news of John’s Green Card win was a welcome bandaid for me too! We packed up our car from Kelowna and with a little U Haul trailer behind us headed once again for Toronto to finalize the paperwork and prepare to find a new home in the US. The first major hurdle to overcome in accompanying John with my own Green Card was a legal marriage certificate. 

Having both been married previously with little success we never gave it much consideration. We were together because we chose to not because we were obligated by a piece of paper… However because all the strict adherences to detail deemed non-negotiable we hastily made arrangements for a civil ceremony. 

Choosing the picturesque town of Woodstock Vermont John and I were married on the steps of their small town hall by the ex-mayor turned justice of the peace. My maid of honour was the owner of the local B & B and our witness in matrimony was her golden retriever Bailey. It took several months to complete the paperwork and although we didn’t have much to bring with us materially we made up for in enthusiasm and relief to once again leave our troubled baggage behind us. 

I fatefully made the decision to call my parents hoping to depart on better terms and clear my conscience just before heading across the border. However well-intentioned the call was from my side they both used it as an opportunity to twist my brain in half just one last time. Setting their well-oiled psychological mind trap on me which had ensnared me in its ugly claws so many times in the past.In that instant I realized that it took two to play their game and I had made a major contribution in continuing it. Upon our final departure I vowed to myself that I would never more participate in their psychological insanity. 

Little did they realize then that it would be many, many years before they would ever hear from me again.

Seeking Our Adventure…
John and I landed in New England living on the coast of Maine and loving the refreshing enthusiasm down south of the border. We went on many
adventures down there, travelling, working and enjoying our newfound freedom away from the traps of our past. John did his cars and I always
helped out with driving, detailing and most fun of all finding them in all kinds of places. 

I managed a part time job coaching the Kennebunk High School swim team who had heard I lived nearby and offered me the position. To be
quite honest my swimming days seemed more surreal than familiar to me by now and I had to battle my high anxiety just thinking about returning there once more. When I first stepped onto the pool deck it triggered a serious panic attack along with the pressure in my chest that always accompanied each episode. I immediately wondered if I had done the right thing in accepting the position as prior to this, my attacks were becoming less frequent. Determined to face my fears and conquer this powerful inner demon once and for all I summoned up all my courage and held myself still. I felt the flood of mixed memories rush in like a giant wave but this time instead of succumbing to the urge to run from it I just let it pass through me. Once I allowed the whole process to take its course with little resistance from me, the feelings and panic subsided almost as quickly as they had come. In the end I enjoyed working with the high school kids and I was proud that I did it…
 

After 3 years down there living in Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, North Carolina , Boulder Colorado, and back to California where we stayed in Santa Barbara for a while we began to miss the social values and personal security of Canada. We were grateful to have had the opportunity to have lived and worked down there. Had we chosen to remain I feel quite confident to say we would have been better off financially. However not all of the things in life can be measured by money alone. 

We did enjoy the generosity and friendliness of the American people but sadly to say much of the trust they had placed in their system was being sorely abused and mismanaged. As far back as the early to mid ‘90’s we could see the problems looming on their horizon. Complex issues and economic woes that have been simmering for years which are now just rushing to the surface. Under regulated capitalism, easy credit, lack of gun control, corruption, greed and the ever widening disparity of incomes and wealth have all contributed to the creation of
these giant fissures in their country. 

What really concerns me presently; however, are the changes and foreshadowing of many of the same symptoms here in Canada. Can we not learn from other’s mistakes? Usually we wake up much too late to avoid the pitfalls but I do not want to digress here… I was able to complete my certification in Holistic Counselling while in Massachusetts which augmented by Kinesiology Certificate I had received from Simon Fraser University in the mid 1980’s. I had always been intrigued by the science of mind and body employing its powerful connection in my athletics and in my daily life as well. Eager to share my own experiences and lessons from it I wrote my first manuscript entitled “Mind over Matter” a unique approach to healthy weight management. 

Explaining the relevance and importance of managing all three aspects of health and overall wellnesses which are the physical, the psychological and the spiritual or should I say the more intangible side of life. John and I had taken a giant leap of faith in plunging headlong into our journey not even having a route map or compass to guide our direction. Not only did we manage to survive it and find our way home but we were enriched by it. Over the many years that have passed since leaving the States and returning home to Canada our quest is by no means completed. We are still a work in progress and happily so…

A Work in Progress…
I must admit our urge to remain rolling stones on the road of life was difficult to explain to others especially when they asked where we lived. Initially I became quite adept at skirting the question feeling quite uncomfortable about living so unconventionally. We were always forced to survive as everywhere we went we had to land on our own two feet without any outside help or support. Many times we wished we could have our own home and stabilize but with no hope for credit and no family in which to back us we literally did the best we could with what we had. 

Kindly, though, the years have allowed me to see the wisdom in it, realizing that our home is truly wherever we are. Not only do I find myself more comfortable in my own skin but also with the understanding that happiness and contentment are as much or more of an inside journey rather than the other way around. Similarly I at first felt awkward and embarrassed that the people and systems which I was once a part of and aspired to had cold-heartedly turned their back on me especially when I needed them the most. Having taken their rejections not only personally I was bewildered and deeply hurt by them. Believing and trusting that they would only have my best interests in mind. How wrong could my assumption be? For many years I tried to fit back in but each time I was expelled with greater force. The more I tried to acquiesce to their ways the more I suffered from their cold rebuke. This lesson has taken me many years I must admit but it is a lesson well learned. 

Now John and I are comfortable living outside the inner circle. It is actually liberating and we wouldn’t feel comfortable any other way. There is something empowering and refreshing about being an underdog. As long as we are true to ourselves and do the right thing on our own terms what more could we ask of ourselves? These experiences and others like them have helped us cope with life’s daily challenges as we, like most, definitely still have our fair share of ups and downs. I once heard that our experiences and lessons come most often when we get what we don’t want. And I’m sure we can all relate to that… It just seems to be our way with life. Without being poked and prodded by it then we would be lulled into complacency. 

Challenge and necessity are the precursors to change and growth and if we all had our druthers there would be little to nudge us along. Many times success is just surviving the jungle out there without going backwards and with little doubt life is becoming more demanding and stressful on a daily basis. Encircled by such a contrived and manufactured culture where the reality these days is pay more and get less as the one and only flavour of the day has left most of us frustrated and stretched beyond our means. John and I have found that being mindful and not getting too far ahead of ourselves nor spending too much time dwelling on the past keeps us quite happy and much more able to handle the constant distractions and daily demands we all now face. I can’t count the number of times our childlike sense of wonder and humour along with plenty of physical activities have literally saved us from our own nuclear meltdowns! 

The past decade or so we still have faced many struggles together. A couple of times we were down and out barely managing to survive despite our hard efforts I can vividly recall John and I were sitting across from each other , most ironically, in the coffee shop of the World Trade Center in silent tears having just lost all our investment in a sports memorabilia business . We had put all our marbles into limited edition prints that we had placed on show there and the auction was a disaster. Luckily we sold one print on the road which gave us just enough money to barely make it home. We moved into a small basement rec room with a pull out bed and started all over again… It was like Carmel California repeating itself; you just do what you have to do…

There have also been times when I have felt so hopeless and despondent that all I can ask of myself is to just take another step. Just one step, and then another… and then one day turns into another and the dark clouds seem to lighten and once again you catch glimpses of the blue sky hidden behind them.

Amending Our Past….
Although John’s hardest struggle was to let go of his financial gains and assets of his past mine was my children. The loss of being a mother to my two young children was definitely the most heart wrenching circumstance that I needed to accept and release. 

I had always known deep down that I had done the right thing by keeping them together in a home in which they were familiar. After all their happiness and welfare was by far the most important consideration whenever parents decide to divorce.  This I understood indeed. Unfortunately for me, though, this love from a distance was not reciprocated equally. The real danger in any divorce is when one spouse takes advantage of their custody and instead uses it as a lever against the other. Sadly for me this was very much the case. The sands of time were obviously not on my side nor was my ex-husband and therefore it wasn’t long before the love and memories of our past together were being quickly erased from the minds of my children. As fate was to have it the poor financial times I fell upon after my divorce and separation made it physically impossible to be there for them. 

This loss hurt me so deeply over the ensuing years I was convinced the hole in my heart from the distance between us both physically and even more significantly emotionally could ever be healed. It took years of yearning for their presence in my life and vast volumes of tears shed before I gradually began to realize that this was a useless exercise. Not only was it not bringing my children any closer to me but it wasn’t adding anything of benefit to my life either. If anything all this despair and remorse was greatly diminishing any hope for happiness.

Gradually with this thought in mind the vice grip that once held my heart hostage was beginning to loosen its hold. Then came a day when I just didn’t feel that pressure anymore, it just seemed to release on its own when I wasn’t even looking. My love for them never changed nor waivered but my understanding and perspective of it did. 

Although it has taken much time to try to heal the wide gaps in my relationship with my children I still feel that I did the right thing for them even at the high cost to myself. Scott has always been a little more trusting and open probably because I was able to spend more time with him when he was young. 

Shannon however, was only 3 when we separated so it appears she was more affected by the consequences of the divorce. Using much more caution in her relationship with me than Scott and definitely taking things at her own speed and In her own way. I can completely understand her hurt and probably the feelings of betrayal she held for all those years so long ago. I was really disappointed not to be able to see her on her Wedding Day but then again those were her wishes… 

My only wish would be to change the course of our separated paths and write a much happier ending but I can’t. Having said that I still trust that I made the right decision for all of us at the time. One that I can and must live with. Nevertheless I can still take great pride from my own small part in their development and contentment in knowing that they have blossomed into their own lives with a strong sense of who they are. Having each found happiness in their choices of life partners they are now both blessed with little boys of their own. 

Having to accept and integrate the loss or major change in a relationship for me has required much trust and patience. My breakthroughs came when I consciously allowed these deep emotions to just exist without over thinking or steering them one way or the other. Somehow through this mysterious mechanism the rigid attachments and strings of control and guilt were able to ease and eventually liberated me from the pain of the process I had just been entangled in. Allowing this inner process to take its course has with time enabled me the wisdom to reinforce the bonds which needed mending and the necessary strength when I needed to let them go. 

Through this understanding I have been able to rebuild bridges with my many of my past relationships especially that of my parents. I can now understand and accept that my parents and those that had inadvertently hurt me somewhere along the line only acted through what they knew and could only give what they had. Sometimes we wish others to be more of what we want and need but they can’t give anything that they don’t already possess. My parents fall into that category because what I yearned for from them was never there to begin with. 

Accepting people for who and what they are and most importantly forgiving them for not being as perfect as you had wished and hoped for is one of the greatest healing tools in the box. Personally it gave me far greater growth and an inner peace which I could viscerally feel than all the years of counselling or in the volumes of self-help books on my shelf. Not only did it have long term results emotionally but physically as well. Gradually I could feel my face became softer and less tense, the furrows in my brow loosened, my heart eased and my shoulders relaxed. 

To fully accept those things in my past with all of its warts and wounds and then to forgive myself was also a huge step in the overall evolution towards my healing. Eventually I began to comprehend the importance of feeling complete within myself rather than seeking to fill the gaps from the approval of others. I could never truly validate my own existence while I still replayed all those mental tapes of the past in my mind. Continuing to feel transparent unless I was doing something really worthy of noticing or never being enough until someone else praised me or accepted my presence. 

Now I felt differently ensuring myself that I was enough and I could say it without someone else’s opinion. I had finally found the secret combination and unlocked the invisible door which had held me captive. Confined within the prison of my own mind for all those years I had held this key all along…. Redefining my past had now shed a new bright light upon my future…

Just More Time…
My own physical and emotional healing was well under way however life always wants to throw another curve at you and this time it was thrown directly at John. This was one of our most challenging days yet… 

It was a hot muggy day on July 7th, 2001 when John complained about being short of breath, turning ashen grey in a cold sweat. He had a terrible pain in his neck and a felt a pressure in his chest. In horror I knew it was his heart. Having given so much of himself over the years with his never give up attitude and his care for the welfare of others had finally taken its toll on him. 

Although he always put on a brave face his spirit was weary from trying and now his heart was failing. I just prayed at that moment that his fighting spirit that brought him through when he was such a tiny baby could protect him just one more time. 

Whisked away in an ambulance I knew his fate was in far greater hands than mine… I waited hours in the emergency lobby area while the doctors operated on John’s heart. It was agonizing. How quickly life can be snatched away. It’s ironic how I always reminded John of the assumption that death will take us in midsentence… But not now… not John… we had so many plans… 

I sat and shut my eyes and in my mind I could see all our adventures together flashing in quick succession like an old fashioned move flick. I heard our laughter and all the funny things that are uniquely John and then a smile came to my lips. I would never have traded a minute of our journey together for anything. There was never a regret no matter what happens from this moment forward…. not one…

When I was finally able to visit John in intensive care he looked so vulnerable and fragile. My rock, my strong and loyal companion was now all hooked up to monitors, wires and beepers There was no greater gift than just to hold him and know that he had made it through once again. What we both didn’t realize was the psychological aftermath which was shortly to come from such a life threatening event and the effect it was to have on John. 

Upon his return home John’s personality shifted immediately. Having just dealt with his own mortality much of the shock manifested in periods of anger and then depression. He admitted he felt very anxious at night which completely disrupted his sleep patterns making the dilemma worse. However because he was on a cocktail of prescribed medications and now on antidepressants for his mood swings we weren’t sure if he was dealing with his true feelings or the side effects of the regiment of pills he was taking. We were both totally confused and with little information volunteered nor offered from the medical establishment on the mixture of these chemicals John courageously decided to eliminate them all one by one. John opted to use natural and alternative methods instead combining natural herbs, exercise, eating healthy (well most of the time…) meditation and chelation therapy. I am happy to say that not only did John’s health return with this new lifestyle but his sense of humour and his penchant for fun all came back with it too! 

John later told me that they had trouble inserting the stent in the operating room as his artery was badly contused. Not knowing the extent of the damage to his heart and with the current complication John was not sure if he would make it but all he could think of was me. Nothing else… All he asked for was “more time with Elaine” The tears welled up in our eyes as he spoke those words to me. 

So every day since then we live our lives as more time with each other. For certain we still have our fair share of challenges and the bills still keep coming but at the end of each day we focus on gratitude and the simple joys we share together. The bike rides, the walks in nature, admiring the beauty of a tree, feeding the squirrels or a blue jay, a cup of coffee we shared, spontaneous laughter at something silly, the smile of a child, patting a dog, and even in the sad moments when we share mutual tears. Those are the true joys, the gifts of life which ask for nothing in return and are out there just waiting to be appreciated by those who see through the lens of a different light. The light of an openness within us that allows these everyday moments to become a part of us and reflect through us.

Living With Gratitude…
I am so grateful that many years ago we had chosen to live our lives this way because once again death reared its ugly head but
this time we faced it together. It was June 7th, 2011, John and I were helping my parents whom had just sold their home in Penticton and were in the process of moving to Victoria. Seeing them safely off at the airport with my sister Glennis who accompanied them on their light we took the evening to relax. 

The plan was for me to drive my parents car packed with all their valuables the next day and John would follow me in our car to their new place in Sidney BC. We decided to have dinner in Kelowna and because we had dropped them off in my Dad’s car we ended up taking the relatively short trip up the highway in it. 

 All went well until the fateful return trip home. It had been raining quite heavily which was unusual for this area but the rain had let up quite a bit when we approached a wide curve in the highway very near Summerland. The highway had widened into 4 lanes by now and I was in the slow lane with a mini school bus slightly ahead of me in the passing lane. I could see the water flowing down a very steep hill and as I curved around to begin my approach up it all of a sudden in the corner of my left eye I saw a flash of red. In an instant I saw a red car at a very high speed coming down it in the fast lane and veering across the center line headed straight into the path of the oncoming school bus. I knew immediately there was not enough time nor space to avoid the impeding collision. 

My first thought was ironically not about us but of the drivers of the red car and the school bus because from my vantage point they would be killed instantly from the collision. Unable to avoid becoming collateral damage and bracing for impact my next thought was just to hold the wheel steady to minimize the chance of us rolling over and flipping. It all happened so quickly I didn’t even have time to be scared I just reacted as rationally as I could under the life or death circumstances we now were in. Now our survival was all I cared about. 

I can remember vividly the power of the jolt of impacting the back of the school bus and I knew that there was a huge concrete barrier to our right that would be most unforgiving when and if we were to hit it. I was actually bracing to go under the back of the bus because my Dad’s car was fairly small, an Alero, or we would flip and crash into the barrier. But then something really strange happened. 

Time and space stood still. I had no sense of time nor of anything around me almost as if I was in a cushioned bubble. I could hear the horrific crunching of metal around me and all the sounds of the crash but I felt no other external sensations other than holding my arms straight out and keeping my hands firmly planted on the wheel. Finally the sounds stopped and I felt the car still going… What may have been mere seconds in reality seemed like an eternity to us. Both John and I now in shock we stared across to one another in disbelief of what had just happened. For one weird instant I honestly didn’t know if we actually had survived it or had died together and we seeing each other on the other side… All I cared about at that moment was that we were still together and seemingly in one piece!

Quickly regaining our composure we looked back at the carnage we had just somehow miraculously squeezed through. Immediately we could smell and feel the smoke and flames coming from the wreckage scattered all over the highway just behind us. Seconds later came the sounds of the screams from the kids on the school bus. I tried to get out my door which had been totally crunched by the impact of the bus but John’s instincts as an old lifeguard kicked in and he ran back to save the driver of the red car which was now in flames. Battling the dense chemical smoke and choking for air, John could just make out the look of horror etched in the face of the driver. Ignoring his own safety John tugged hopelessly at the victim’s lifeless body. Even to this day the memory of this poor man’s face still haunts him. 

Eventually we were all whisked away in several different ambulances. There were helicopters and media crews and the highway was closed for hours. Luckily there were no other fatalities which was a miracle in itself however one girl was airlifted to Kelowna in a coma and there were several broken bones and lots of bruises suffered by the students. 

Still to this day I can’t fathom how we physically managed to get through the accident the way we did. We both banged our heads quite severely and my ribs were badly bruised along with minor scrapes and a few bumps. Considering the horrific chain of events they were all relatively minor. Probably the worst of the injuries was the emotional trauma we suffered which is so much harder to heal from. I must admit we both are much more tense and anxious when we drive and I always look two or three times before changing lanes or turning a corner. 

However we are just thankful to have survived it together and once again have been graciously gifted with more time with each other. I will always wonder why on that very morning of the accident I had carefully placed something very special to me in the back seat of that car. It was my grandmother’s ashes. She was in life as now in her death, my guardian angel…

Finding Compassion…
Having experienced adversity and mental challenges personally one of the more positive rewards if one could call it that is compassion for others. Suffering does have a worthy purpose because it gives one the opportunity to nurture empathy and tolerance for those who are often shunned by the norms of society. There is no hierarchy to pain and suffering nor is there any immunity to mental illness through intellectual or academic prowess. 

Just as alcoholism does not discriminate in any way so too can mental illness strike anyone at any time. 

John and I always try to stop and ask the name of the homeless person on the street and hear their story. They are not unlike any of us. We all have our stories and no one is immune to the scars of life. Anyone of us can be just one event away from disaster. There should be no stigma or judgement imposed upon those who suffer from the harsh consequences of misfortune. 

A couple of Christmas’s ago in Victoria John and I spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day driving around in a van packed with warm clothes, hot chocolate and cookies donated by kind volunteers from the community. We were simply amazed not only at the poignancy of their stories but in the generosity, gratitude and compassion they each demonstrated for one another. Paradoxically there was more compassion and caring between these people of little means than there appeared to be in many of the more affluent homes which in such stark contrast surrounded us. It was a very humbling experience and to be very honest one of the most memorable Christmas’s we have ever shared together. 

As a society we need to talk to one another and when we hurt we shouldn’t be afraid or ashamed to say so. I know I was afraid not only to ask for help but admit that I even needed it. And where is the real help when you need it the most? To simply say “oh just go and get it!” doesn’t really cut it. It just isn’t that easy… Often times the system actually puts up road blocks compounding the problem. 

Discouraging so many of us from reaching out and asking for help or worse still in hiding our inner pain in secret and not even talking about it at all. Festering for years, eventually revealing itself in a myriad of dysfunctional behaviours and tragic outcomes from which both John and I have suffered. If anything we live in a society that actually sows the seeds of mental illness demanding the almost impossible from so many who are just not equipped to withstand its harsh realities. 

If there is any fragility within us, contrary to supporting us, the pressures of life can actually end up breaking us. Ultimately by creating and then floundering in such an uninhabitable system only exacerbates the problem rather than solves it. The present approach or lack of it ultimately costs our health care system tenfold taking its toll on society both economically and emotionally and leaving far too many people in the margins.

Redefining Success…
What really concerns me, however, is that rather than becoming more tolerant and compassionate a society we collectively have become anything but. Living in such a materialistic and consumer based culture where the have’s and the have mores reign supreme and the vast majority are left running on empty on the never ending treadmill is a recipe for disaster. Extolling the virtues of the win at all costs attitude has eroded our basic morals. 

Aspiring to being number one regardless of the cost to one’s principles is in my opinion too high a price to pay. Attaining fame and fortune by manipulating, cheating or whatever less than virtuous intention leaves one a very hollow victory at best. There is no greater lie than the ones we tell ourselves… 

I have been there and experienced the high pressure of fearing failure and letting others down. And unless you have a well-grounded sense of self and a value system which is based upon more positive assets and qualities the price of fame and success can take a huge chunk out of your soul.

Without a healthy perspective on our own self-worth and what adds true merit to our lives we can easily fall victim to the allure of fame and fortune. Through my own mistakes I now know that not all that glitters is necessarily gold. That there is nothing shameful in a valiant effort even if one falls short. 

I have since learned that the true victors in life are not always the ones who finish first but the ones who never give up. Trying to find my own significance in life by making a mark at such an early age costly me dearly. I find far greater significance in my life now by helping others and in so doing have actually reclaimed it. 

Living the lifestyle such as John and I do and as the old saying goes a rolling stone gathers no moss we have learned to travel relatively lightly. Rather than accumulating things in the material sense we have chosen to nurture and cherish the more intangible assets of our lives. The ones which need little maintenance nor space in which to keep. Experiences and memories which remain a part of us and come with us wherever we go. 

It is probably hard for others to fathom but the medals and awards I accumulated over the years were never really that important to me in the physical sense. My joy came in the pursuit of them. As I once wrote to an aspiring little gymnast by the name of Tamara O’Brien “The dream sets the path but the joy comes in following it” I truly meant what I said. I knew instinctively that the medal or trophy was purely a symbol of the accomplishment and not the accomplishment itself. Over the years I have gladly donated various items of my sports collection to charities for their fund raising events. Some of my awards and trophies are in Halls of Fame which are stretched across Canada as well as in Florida at the International Aquatic Hall of Fame. 

Last year I had the rare opportunity to go through some of our boxes in a small storage locker we have had for a while. It was so liberating throwing out all the old stuff that just wasn’t me anymore nor held any relevance to our current lives. Working my way to the back of the locker I came across a few tired old boxes which contained my remaining medals and awards. Neglected and soiled they seemed to reflect the parody of my life as an athlete. As I gazed upon their tarnished veneers a strange feeling overwhelmed me. Despite being hidden out of sight and virtually forgotten for so many years nothing could alter nor erase the history behind them and the hard work and effort it took to earn them. 

In the same moment I sadly realized that they too were now outdated like my old clothes. They deserved a much better fate than I could give them. There had just been too much water under my bridge since those magic days of chasing my Olympic dreams of gold. Sport had changed so much over all those years but then again so had I. Even though I should have let it all go over 40 years ago I knew in that instant that our roads were to permanently part at last. It was there and then I decided I wanted to move on and that meant not only letting go of sport emotionally it meant in the physical sense as well. This time it would be for good. I chose to auction all my collection and put them to good use rather than have them slowly deteriorate in boxes. 

I truly wished they would go to homes where they could be honestly appreciated for the achievements and history they each represent. I was now really ready to shed that one last thick layer of skin. The one that began with the Olympics and kept its suffocating cloak wrapped tightly around me for many decades. It was truly time to let go…. And since then I have never regretted my decision nor once looked back…

I am now happy to say that my Olympic medals went to a wonderful and kind collector in North Carolina. He, like us, supports many similar causes and we have now all become friends with much mutual respect for one another. He also assured me that those medals will at some point in the future be donated to wherever I wish and displayed for everyone to see. As some of my other memorabilia have already been kindly given to the International Aquatic Hall of Fame in Florida and with over millions of Canadians visiting there every year I feel that this would be the perfect home for them. The funds which came from my collection are now being used for many of the positive projects and causes which our near and dear to our hearts these days.