Category: Motivation

Lucky 13…

13 years ago, I was sworn in as a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I received my badge and swore my oaths before being stationed here in Saskatchewan to protect the people of Canada. It was a gruelling 26 weeks of intense training, including being up before dawn, training and studying until midnight or later and doing it all over again. I walked onto the academy grounds at about 185 pounds and graduated at 165 pounds. It was intense and I acknowledge that not everyone makes it through. I have to admit that there were times where even I thought I wouldn’t make it, and we all know how stubborn and tenacious I am. But I digress…

One of the things that helped make it bearable, is my pit-partner. I remember arriving at Depot late on a Sunday evening. beds within the dorm were already assigned to us by name and I found my pit right away. Some scrawny, shy-looking dude was sitting in the pit next to mine. I’m ashamed to admit that I don’t remember his name. Long story short, he mustered out within the first week. I’m, not sure why he left, I just know that he wasn’t terminated. Light knows we were too early in the program for anyone to get terminated. The following week, I was greeted by my new pit partner who would go on to have a significant impact on the next six months and my success in the program: Blair “Mambo” Mombourquette.

Blair was the right combination of pit partner; equal parts sarcasm, comedy and strength of will. We quickly became friends and started enjoying every weekend hanging out together off base, as well. I even got to meet some of his family who lived in the Regina area, which would come to impact my life in a significant way as well. All in all, Blair made the basic training experience enjoyable and I often feel I may not have made it through, had I been paired up with anyone else. As is the RCMP way, we parted ways once we graduated. I got posted to Saskatchewan and he went on to be posted in Manitoba and subsequently, Nova Scotia.

Although I managed to visit him once at his initial posting as I travelled from New Brunswick to Saskatchewan, all these years have passed without us ever seeing each other. That is, until last Sunday. Blair flew out to British Columbia so that he and his son could drive across the country, back to Nova Scotia. They stopped in Regina with intentions to stay the night, last Sunday. I picked them up and we grabbed dinner at a local restaurant, shared a few drinks and reminisced about the “good ol’ days.” There are few precious opportunities for such things in life, so it was good to remember some of the good times, the training and the fond memories.

It was nice to look back and share some time with someone who was there. Out of all of my troop, there are really only a few that I got close to and that I believe would understand everything I’ve been through. Blair is one of those people. I have some photos of us, buried somewhere in my old barrack boxes. A good blogger would probably dig them up and include them here. Honestly, I think I’m just going to enjoy the new memories, mixing with the old. Sometimes, the good memories are all we truly have that makes us rich in this life. Food for thought… ☯️

Mornings Suck…

Does anyone ever really like getting up in the morning? It’s one of those things where many if not most people dislike the prospect of hitting the Sacco when they could watch that “one more episode,” or read another chapter, finish a hobby they’re working on, etc… But once we’re in bed, assuming we’re able to get to sleep, rising for the next day can be a tedious and bothersome affair.

For someone with Type-1 Diabetes, waking up in the morning is a like a bowling ball balancing on the head of a pin; depending on how the previous night went and how much sleep one has obtained, waking for the day can be downright tortuous and can fall in either direction. It always seems to be worse when I’m trying to plan something that should, theoretically happen during the morning hours. This is a hard lesson I learned last weekend. and of course, now I’m going to tell you about it.

“What A Disgrace It Is For Man To Grow Old Without Ever Seeing The Beaty And Strength Of Which His Body Is Capable.”

– Socrates

Recently, I’ve come to a certain number of negative realities that I am unhappy about. The biggest is that in 2009, I left my home Province to come out to Saskatchewan to protect the public as a police officer. Although I chose this career path for a number of reasons, including reducing people’s overall suffering as much as I can, there’s no denying that these choices did some damage that can never be repaired. Most namely, I have no school of Uechi Ryu in close proximity, meaning I’ve been training in karate mostly on my own over the last decade and a half.

Given that I’m slowly crawling my way towards an older age, not that I’m quite an old man yet, I’ve started to notice certain things. These things include the fact that I’ve slowed down significantly from how I used to be, especially within the dojo. I’m taking strikes where I would have blocked and countered with ease, even just a few years ago. I also take much longer to heal, which is a real pain (pun intended). Recovery time can cause delays in training and can make it really hard to get ahead.

By virtue of this and the fact that I’m tired of being unable to breathe when I lean over to tie my shoes, I spent several hundred dollars on fitness equipment for my home, last Saturday. Almost two years ago, I had a significant amount of fitness equipment in my basement, which I sold due to our basement being demolished and renovated and because there was some thought that my family and I might move back to New Brunswick. Obviously, that never happened but now that the basement is brand-spanking new, it was time to revisit getting some of that equipment back.

Because my motivation was anger-based, I may or may not have spent far more money in one sitting than I reasonably should have. I purchased a curling bar, weight plates, heavy dumbbells, a step-up bench, 10-pound ankle weights and a floor mat. There are a few other things that I grabbed as well that I just can’t think of, right now. I got back home with all of my expensive wares on top of the few items my wife had asked me to pick up, and got to work setting up everything, which included a storage shelf to hold everything.

Once I had everything set up, I had already worked up a sweat and it was discussed that my wife and I would perform a respective workout the following day where I would get to play and try my new equipment. Early in the Sunday afternoon, after getting home from doing our weekly groceries, I put on some bitchin’ music and hammered out forty minutes of my best, sweat-filled workout. It was glorious. It also prompted a “good” idea on my part…

I decided that I would start setting my morning alarm 30 minutes sooner than usual so that I could perform a brief resistance workout in the morning before going to work. It sounds like a good idea in concept. I wake up, hammer out a brief weight circuit, grab a shower and throw lunches together before rolling into the office with the glow of post-workout bliss to get me through my morning… Sounds promising, right? Life rarely cares about one’s plans…

On Sunday night, we made our way to bed a bit late by virtue of laundry and certain chores. Then, my wife and I both tossed and turned throughout the majority of the night. I also had low blood sugar at one point. Then, when i finally fell into a deep sleep, my pump alarm went off. It seems as though fate conspired against me. By the time the morning rolled around, we reset alarms to eat up the half hour we would have woken to exercise in favour of a bit more sleep.

On Monday morning, any thoughts of working out went out the window. And this is something that happens quite frequently, thanks to good old T1D. Luckily, I was able to hammer out a workout in the evening, once I got home. It dawns on me that, given the requirement to keep my blood sugars balanced and the need for proper rest, working out in the morning may not be a viable option for me. This sucks, because I frequently have karate classes in the evening that would prevent me from using my equipment at home.

Fitness is a delicate balance of time, effort and physical capability, all of which will affect blood sugars levels in some given way, shape or form. That’s why it’s so important to find a time and a method that works well for you. Every person is different. As much as I would love to work out, first thing in the morning, it just doesn’t seem feasible, given the chaotic nature of how my nights run. I’ll just have to be satisfied with the occasions where I can work out on non-karate nights. ☯️

A Little Respect…

This is a point of contention that comes up for me, every year. I totally understand the thinking behind some of it and the lack of logic that many may have in regards to it, but it burns my ass no less. We’ve creeped into the month of November and with that comes a very special day that’s near and dear to my heart. I’m talking about Remembrance Day on November 11th.

Remembrance Day is a Memorial Day that observed on movers 11th in Canada and in fact, in most of the countries who are part of the British Commonwealth, to honour the soldiers and military members who fell in the line of duty. The day has been observed since the end of World War I but has grown to incorporate any and all fallen soldiers and members of the military. In Canada, it is usually observed with memorial parades, reading of the scroll of fallen soldiers and with moments of silence.

The reason I bring it up and why it’s important, is because it always seems as though as soon as Halloween has come and gone, everything starts to steer itself towards Christmas. Even though I’m not the biggest observer of Christmas, although this has changed significantly since I had children, I enjoy Christmas as much as the next person and I have a fondness of the lights, music and festivities that accompany it.

That being said, none of that should be happening until AFTER November 11. Some retail locations have already started to set up their Christmas wares as a result of Halloween supplies having sold out and the holiday passing. As much as I can understand the need to ensure a retail location’s shelves aren’t sitting empty, respect should still be shown to those who gave their lives to ensure the many freedoms we enjoy today, no matter how much everyone complains they want more.

I come from a family with a significant military background. My grandfather was a combat soldier in Europe during World War II. The majority of my mother’s siblings all served in the Canadian Armed Forces, with many of my cousins choosing to do, as well. I was one of the exceptions who went the federal police route by virtue of my Diabetes. People don’t fully acknowledge the kind of things that a soldier experiences during active duty. Most are content with having their heads in the sand and simply enjoying their freedoms without acknowledging how they got there.

Let’s show our respect this month. Wear a poppy until the end of the moment of silence on November 11. keep your Christmas enthusiasm in its pants until November 12th. For those who gave their lives, it’s the least we can do and the least we show. Food for thought…☯️

A Diabetic Halloween…

Today is Halloween, which is celebrated in different ways by different cultures and has different backgrounds and origins, depending on who you ask. For the majority of children in North America, it represents a night where they can dress up in their favourite costume and canvass their neighbourhood for free candy and chocolate handouts. I could try and choose my favourite origin for this day but rather, I think it’s more important to describe my perspective from the Diabetic standpoint.

As a child, I would be brought out for Halloween with my mother and older brother. I would receive at every door and fill this small, plastic pumpkin bucket that my brother and I both had. It would be loads of fun and I remember that as a child, I would love trick-or-treating. That is, until I got home and reality came crashing down… Although I made my way out for Halloween when I was 3-years old, I was diagnosed with Type-1 Diabetes when I turned 4, permanently altering my level of involvement and enjoyment with the holiday.

No matter how much or how little candy was collected, the process would involve dumping our collected goods on the kitchen table where my mother and father would sort and go through everything to determine what I could have and what I couldn’t. Sounds reasonable, right? This is what most parents do but in my case, it meant removing ALL of the candy and leaving only a couple of apples and some chips. My parents were unfortunately oblivious to the fact that both of those items had carbohydrates and sugars in them.

It would seem like a cruel twist that I would be permitted to walk in the elements all evening, knocking on every door and actively collecting all that goodness, only to have it all taken away from me because I had Diabetes. Oh sure, there would be times of low blood sugar where I might get lucky and enjoy a piece of my hard-gotten candy but it was pretty rare. Especially once my parents and family got into the stash and helped themselves.

It may not seem like the worst thing that can happen to a person but for a child, it can be reasonably upsetting, which meant that by the time I reached my oldest son’s age of 7, I outright refused to celebrate or participate in Halloween. This only contributed to my loner persona as I wouldn’t even wear a costume to school. “You do know that a costume won’t affect your blood sugars, right?” Yeah, small consolation for the young child who sees everyone else gorging themselves with candy.

It created a bit of a hatred on my part for the particular holiday, especially since the main focus in Western society is on the trick-or-treat aspect. That is, until I had children of my own. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no fan of walking out in the cold while my kids are trying to get free candy. But I an certainly appreciate their enthusiasm and excitement and I get the benefit of knowing that they don’t suffer from the same condition as I do, so I get to live vicariously through their eyes as they get to totally enjoy the fruit of their efforts. Or rather, the candy of their efforts. Sometimes, perspective is ALMOST as important as participation. Happy Halloween! ☯️

Friendships To Last…

As I’ve often written before, humans are inherently pack animals. Why else would we all gather in large groups to build towns and cities? There’s no denying there’s safety in numbers, which is why animals tend to travel in packs, as well. There’s also a social component to it, where most people crave time with others of their own kind. This isn’t to say that there aren’t issues with that concept.

That very same gathering of people can lead to significant issues such as criminal activity, exhaustion of resources and less availability of services due to the amount of people taking advantage at once. But there’s no denying that at our core, we seek out other people and this becomes evident through a firmer connection with others that we refer to as friendships. Loosely defined, because I haven’t defined something in my posts in FOREVER, friendship can be described as a state of mutual trust and support between two parties who wish to enjoy mutual interests.

That definition is quite loose indeed and is more my perspective on what a friendship is, rather than an actual dictionary definition. Do people use dictionaries anymore? Probably not, with the internet available… But I digress… Friendships are important and an integral part of a healthy lifestyle, even to those who prefer to be alone. Solitude eventually has a significant impact on one’s overall mental well-being and growth. This is why we seek out like-minded people from a young age.

During childhood, friendships follow a come-and-go model where you’ll usually be friends with the same kid of the roughly the same age that you have available. For example, my son Nathan used to be great friends with the boy who lived next door. When that family moved away, he started playing with the boy and girl across the street and forgot all about the boy next door. Kids are flexible that way and are more about the social interaction than who they’re having it with.

As we get older, however, friendships become more about connections and retaining the person, more so than the interaction. The best friendships are the ones that although you may not have spoken in weeks or months, you still value your time with them when you DO get the chance to get together. I have many of those. That’s certainly preferable to people who have constant contact with you but are in a constant state of conflict. Conflict is never a good thing and will always contribute to one’s own suffering as well as theirs.

The big problem with said conflict is that it usually leads to negative feelings and emotions and damages the friendship. Although I’m a huge proponent of “it’s never too late,” willingness to repair a rift will only carry you so far, especially if the other person is unwilling or incapable of communicating or compromising. To be clear, even though conflict isn’t good, it is normal and it will happen in any long-lasting friendship, whether we want it or not.

As we grow into adulthood and maintain those limited relationships, these issues become more dominant. This makes sense, since adults are more prone to their own opinions and feelings, which may not always reflect with yours. This doesn’t mean that there shouldn’t be a continued communication between those two parties. But that’s the funny thing about communication; it can’t be one-sided. Both people need to be involved in the conversation for it to, well… BE a conversation.

All of this wordy bullshit is to say that if you find yourself in conflict with a friend because they have a differing opinion than yours, remember that while you have no obligation or expectation of explaining yourself, a little explanation and clarification can go a long way. Especially if your goal is to retain and maintain the friendship. And if someone has cut you out and stopped communicating as a result of a misunderstanding, you really only have two options: take the initiative and try to repair the rift or, and especially if it’s happened frequently, let them go. Much like the old saying, if they were meant to be in your life, they’ll make their way back. Food for thought… ☯️

Just Read It…

I found this online a few days ago and I just had to share it. I forget where, it might have been on my facebook feed from one of my friends. There’s no branding to it and I honestly can’t remember, so let’s just enjoy the moment. Peace is important and in fact, integral to a happy life. Whether it’s world peace, peace in one’s own life or peace in others. ☯️

Unexpected Teachable Moments…

Studying martial arts is not only a life-long journey, it’s complicated, twisted road that usually includes multiple obstacles and issues along the way. One of the biggest obstacles, is when one gets a teacher who pays no attention and doesn’t help their students. This can be discouraging and may result in the loss of many students who may have gone on to be skilled and capable martial artists. Not only is that not a good look for any dojo, it also contributes to the dilution of the style, as those capable students could have gone on to eventually pass on their teachings.

If you’re a student, new or experienced, an important thing to watch out for is a lack of teaching or instruction. This can be a sign that perhaps that dojo isn’t for you. Or maybe it’s a McDojo and all one is looking for is the monthly tuition payments. There are unfortunately a lot of those out there and they can be tricky to spot. Sometimes, the dojo in question just happens to be a stagnant environment. One good example I can give is a dojo I studied with for about four years. When I signed on with them, considering they were of a different style, I expected to start over at the white belt level.

However, it was agreed that since I had reached and earned the rank of black belt, I should continue to wear the rank and we’d fill in the gps as I got tested at each individual level. After four years, I was barely ever taught anything beyond the very bare minimum and even then, there was never a focus on any ONE thing. There was always a general sprinkling of a dozen different topics during one class, making it very difficult to learn and develop. Being as that I am an unusual hybrid, too advanced to train easily with the beginners and too new to the style to train with the advanced ones, it was a difficult few years.

The workouts were decent but I was never given any one-on-one coaching, instruction or learned anything beyond techniques that I’ve already been using for decades. Despite dropping subtle reminders (one does not DEMAND testing in karate), I was never taught anything or progressed within the style. It led to my departure, even when I got word that classes were continuing on. That’s me as a student. If you’re an instructor, you have even MORE responsibility. Although there are certain aspects that can be taught by some senior belts to help out the Sensei, a head instructor ultimately has the responsibility of ensuring that all students advance and learn in due course.

The success of each student, and ultimately the entire dojo, depends on the proper teaching and passing on of the knowledge. Unlike some classic kung fu movies, masters don’t hold back that one technique that gives them an advantage over everyone else. A proper Sensei dedicated to the art will not hold anything back and will teach everything they know in hopes that the art will continue to live on and be taught to others. That’s why, if you go to a dojo where they won’t give you any time, ever, you should probably go. Find a different school and pursue your martial arts elsewhere. It’s important to find a school where you not only feel comfortable but accommodates your journey. Food for thought…☯️

Karma, The Invisible Check And Balance…

Karma’s a bitch. We’ve all heard that one before. Most people use this expression in the frame of justifying revenge that may have been exacted on someone, which is ironically the opposite of what karma actually is. Without getting too far into the weeds, since I’ve written posts defining karma before, it’s actually the sum of one’s deeds and behaviours that will affect the outcome going forward. In essence, what you put out into the world is what will likely come back to you. Karma in a nutshell.

I have a rather interesting example of karma, which took place on a few months ago. I never thought about it until last week when a live example fed itself back to me. My boss and I were working with some support staff at cleaning up a mess of paperwork that had been water damaged due to a busted pipe in the ceiling. As such, we spent several hours in the file room, drying things off and putting them away. My boss suddenly decided to put some music on to keep things entertaining. He slapped on some country, which for any of you who know me, isn’t my favourite genre.

After several songs, I commented and asked if he had anything but country. I followed it up by asking if he had even asked the ladies if there was a preference they’d like to hear. It was a jovial and comedic situation that had everyone (including my boss) laughing but there was no question that it put him on the spot and certainly pointed an embarrassing finger at him. Everyone got a good laugh and moved on. No harm, no foul, right?

Fast-forward to several months later when I was working with those same two ladies at boxing up old files to be archived. I had JUST downloaded a new Richard Marx album (it’s called ‘Stories to Tell’ and it’s all his greatest hits on acoustic. I highly recommend it). I thought it would be nice to give it a listen as I created boxes since one coworker was off in the file stacks and another had her head buried in a laptop to number the boxes we were packing.

One of my coworkers came walking along and asked what music was playing, to which I replied it was Richard Marx. She said it sounded a bit low-key and depressing and that I should put on something peppier. She also asked if I had consulted the ladies on what they’d like to listen to, to which they replied I hadn’t asked them a thing. Once again, it was all in good fun and everyone got a laugh (I also switched the music to something they preferred) but the memory of my having done the very same thing to my boss months prior suddenly washed over me and I recognized what had just happened: karma had played out.

Most people aren’t quick to give karma too much stock in daily life, but it’s surprisingly out there and affects us in ways we won’t often see. Everyone LOVES to say ‘all things happen for a reason’ but they mostly use that as a generic quip to justify whatever shitty things they may have caused, themselves. It’s important to be mindful of our thoughts and behaviours. Putting good out into the world certainly ensures that eventually, good will find its way back to you. Food for thought and a shout out to m y co-worker who reminded me of the story above and gave me the idea for this post… ☯️

“Ex” Marks The Spot… (A Long Read)

I recently referenced something in a couple of my recent posts, which some observant readers took notice of, and reached out to ask. I thought that instead of responding to each one (I got a few) I would simply write about it. Much like those folks who make a hobby of pointing out inaccuracies in movies and shows, sometimes it’s better to simply sit back and enjoy the movie for what it is; a movie. The details or inaccuracies in the background shouldn’t matter, since the show is essentially a form of entertainment and a means of escaping into a virtual world for a couple of hours. But I such is life and some can’t help themselves. And I once again digress…

As most people aren’t usually aware and only my close friends know, I was married once before. It was the early 2000’s and I had just parted ways with the woman I was seeing after a few tumultuous years in Moncton, New Brunswick of living poor as a result of her lack of participation in life. My parents graciously offered me a room while I figured out my next steps and what new career path I would pursue. Just to be clear, my intention with this post isn’t to bad-mouth any of my previous partners. But as with all things in life, those choices and relationships played a part in my life’s choices and ultimately brought me to the here and now, making them important.

I was working at a local pharmacy as its manager, when a couple of mutual friends came in to purchase something. We struck up a conversation and as they began asking about my life and its current status, inquired if I would be interested in meeting someone. I said yes. The person in question wound up visiting me at the pharmacy and we agreed that we would spend an evening climbing Sugarloaf mountain. I used to spend the majority of my downtime, back then, either at karate or working out, so I was happy with that choice. The remainder of the summer would see us spend an increased amount of time together as a relationship developed.

By the end of the summer, it was time for her to head back to the Ottawa/Gatineau area as she was currently enrolled in university, there. Although it had only been a couple of months, we discussed my joining her. This presented me with an interesting challenge; I had never lived outside of New Brunswick, nor had I travelled much outside the Maritimes by car. As adult life does not permit one to simply pack up and go, it was agreed that I would take the train and travel out for a few days so I could experience the area and see if I would be amenable to living there.

The train ride was an awakening experience, as it turned out to be almost as long or longer than travelling by car would have been. This was disappointing but it was made better by the fact that I had a friend from home who was travelling to Montreal and wound up on the same train as I. By the time I reached Ottawa and grabbed a ride to my ex’s apartment, my world burst wide open. As I mentioned, I hadn’t really travelled outside of New Brunswick on my own and although I had visited cities such as Fredericton and Halifax, they were no comparison to Ottawa.

The buildings and architecture, the people and population, the Ottawa River… Are you KIDDING me??? I instantly fell in love with the place and knew it would dig itself a cozy little corner in my heart. I was there for a little less than a week and by the time I got on the train to go back to New Brunswick, I knew I would be back. Many would later say that I was influenced more by the city than by the prospect of joining my ex-wife. And they may have been right. Time has not been kind to the retelling of this story.

I quit my job, which was gracious enough to facilitate a transfer to another pharmacy on the Ottawa side, packed all my worldly belongings into my Chevrolet Cavalier Z24 and made my way across the Provinces. I would love to tell the story about how GPS wasn’t quite a thing so I was running off of a MapQuest printout, took a wrong turn and ended up in southern New Brunswick, but y’all laugh at me enough as it is and this story isn’t about that. Carrying on…

I reached Gatineau safely and spent a few days taking in the locale, visiting various places I would need for prescriptions, groceries, all of that good stuff. I knew I had a job waiting for me, so I was taking my time and working off a generous bonus I had been paid to accommodate all the banked hours I had built up at my previous employment. After about two weeks, my ex started questioning when I would get to work, despite knowing I had some savings and that I wanted to enjoy my surroundings and get acclimated a bit before starting.

Now, folks, that should have been an initial red flag that warned me of the possible future outcome I would have to deal with. But in my hubris, I thought that it was just a common expectation born of frustration. After all, she had been studying hard at university while I spent a couple of weeks sleeping in and wandering the ByWard Market. I can see how that would piss me off, being in her shoes. But there would be other things that would present themselves that, in hindsight, I should have clued into enough to recognize and run in the other direction. I did not.

Over the months that followed, I worked far harder than the pay compensated for, a fact that my ex was quick to point out. It all came to a head the one day when we were sitting in a lovely little modern coffee shop outside the ByWard Market. It was a Sunday morning, the sun was shining and I was drinking in the sounds and sights of the city. That was when she chose to ask when I would make a move to start getting a career and make more money. I was having fun. Then my fun heard that question and my fun got soft. Go figure.

I tried explaining that advancement takes time and that my intention was to promote and advance at my current job, which even though it didn’t pay through the nose had the potential for great compensation and benefits if I climbed up to District or even Regional Manager. She was unconvinced and started delivering what I used to consider “soft” ultimatums about not supporting me and expecting me to carry my own weight and share of the finances. I couldn’t fault her for THAT aspect but it was her approach to it that should have been recognized as a problem.

Over the following year, our relationships had some seriously rocky times, including all the worst fights about the future, money and marriage. While it stood to reason that I hadn’t packed up my previous life for nothing, I couldn’t say I was ready to simply jump into something permanent based on a few months of being together. But the pressure and expectation was certainly there. I’d like to say I’m doing a good job of describing all of this, but none of these words do the situation justice. It wouldn’t be until years later that I would recognize that I was in an abusive relationship, albeit not in a physical way.

Things started to look bleak and I recognized something was wrong a couple of months before our 1-year anniversary of being together, when she commented about the fact that if we weren’t engaged after a year of being a couple, we were wasting our time. Although she didn’t phrase it that way, it felt and sounded like an ultimatum. Bear in mind that all of this took place PRIOR to my becoming a police officer and I was far more introvert than I am now. I started to notice that I was no longer sleeping well, I wasn’t eating and my blood sugars were all over the place and I lost weight.

She must have took notice that things were going awry, because she wound up doing the very thing that every abuser does and that every victim soaks up and takes for gospel: she apologized and promised to change. And like the damned fool that I was, I believed her. She said she realized the pressures and stresses she was putting on me were inappropriate and unfair and that she would change how she viewed our relationship and how she treated me. I believed her. Hey, what can I say? Like most, I had never been in an abusive relationship before, so I had no precedent to tell me it was likely all bullshit. I thought she was sincere…

Because of this and because a seed was already planted telling me it was expected, I proposed on our 1-year anniversary. It was a joyous few weeks and things were looking up. I had left my job at the pharmacy and became the Operations Manager for a local protection and investigation agency. It would become the first time I wore body armour and a sidearm and would start planting the seeds of interest in policing. But that’s a different story. When one climbs too high and becomes complacent, it becomes far easier and more dangerous to fall. So, of course something would throw a monkey wrench into the mix.

My ex revealed that we would be moving back to New Brunswick after she graduated from university, that summer. This was a problem because I had now secured a solid job with advancement opportunities, I was in the middle of the RCMP application process AND I was deeply enamoured with the Ottawa area and didn’t want to leave. This not only resulted in what would become one of the biggest fights we ever had but it resulted in her moving back to her parents place and leaving me to close out our apartment, quit my job and transport everything back to New Brunswick on my own.

It was a rough month of being alone, trying to decide what to do and making ends meet. I seriously contemplated breaking up and just staying in Ottawa on my own. I even looked into rooms to rent. Then my stubborn streak kicked in. I had made commitments, which I didn’t take likely. I started to consider that besides joining my ex, I would also be close to my parents and once again have access to my original karate dojo. It motivated me to take the leap and leave Ottawa behind. Being back in New Brunswick posed all the same issues and worse than we had in Ottawa, however. I should have had the foresight to recognize that none of it was healthy and walked away but I didn’t.

We reached the finish line and got married. This only brought forth further issues that became aggravated by expectations due to the permanence that marriage brought. When I returned to New Brunswick, my management position at the pharmacy was no longer available and I returned to an old haunts: McDonald’s. Although I was given a management position there, it didn’t pay well and I was struggling with getting through my RCMP application process as well, which led to absences and less money, which aggravated problems further. Wash, rinse and repeat.

There’s an extremely important side story to this entire journey, which took place during the period I was back home before joining the Force. I’m acknowledging it because it was an integral piece of the story that helped open my eyes to what could be. But I won’t get into the details of that chapter as it isn’t JUST my story to tell and would take focus away on what I’m currently writing about. Suffice it to say that outside circumstances woke me to the fact that my marriage was over and had to come to an end.

We started talking about what we would do and the results that would ensue. We gave it the ol’ college try and tried working through some issues but the nail in the coffin was when I was reaching the end of the RCMP application and looked very promising that I would get in and she started listing all the Provinces and places she WOULDN’T go. I tried explaining that my choice in the matter would be quite limited, a fact she should have known as she had applied to the Mounties herself but had failed the exams. It would be the point of contention that would ultimately end us.

When I finally got the call to step up and serve the people of Canada, there was really only one answer i could give. In early April of 2009, I was signed up as a cadet with Troop 5 at the RCMP Training Academy in Regina, Saskatchewan. My ex brought me to the Moncton Airport, as this was the departure point the RCMP chose for me. During my wait at the airport, my ex confessed that she had gotten me there and was seeing me off, but based on how our relationship had been going and certain external factors, she likely wouldn’t be here when I got back. I accepted that as a positive first step in a new chapter of my life.

The next six months were a tumultuous mixture of intensive training mixed with separation dealings. By the time I had graduated from Depot and made my way home, my clothing, personal possessions and car were waiting at my parents’ house. I took post in late October of 2009 and never looked back. Once we reached that 1-year mark, we filed for divorce, which went uncontested on either side. With no children or marital property to dispute, it was a clean break and allowed me to forge a new life. As usual, I have no regrets.

Some folks would easily argue that it was a difficult road, one that I should have recognized I had no business being on, and walked away sooner. Maybe. Some of the things she put me through were rough and unpleasant but ultimately, had she not pushed me to make more money and in fact, she’s the one who encouraged my application with the RCMP, I wouldn’t be where I am today. A prime example of how all things happen for a reason.

The effects of that failed relationship continue to guide certain choices in my life, even now. I’m stronger, more firm in my beliefs and opinions and had that chain of events never taken place, I wouldn’t have met my wife. My children wouldn’t exist. So many life events would never have happened and I wouldn’t have the positive life I have now. As with all things in life, there’s always a balance; despite the negativity that relationship involved, it evoked many of the positive elements in my life that I now enjoy. So there you have it. A bit deeper insight into the Blogging Buddhist. Hopefully, this post didn’t put you to sleep. ☯️