Category: Uncategorized

“Mom! Look how much my hand has grown!”

We were sitting on the bench at Fountain Park pool waiting for my daughter to get dressed after their yearly round of swimming lessons. There is a public art installation of the hand prints of donors that helped contribute to the renovations done over a decade ago.

My son’s hand has grown from Landon’s size to more like a Jacques-size hand. He tells me that he can’t wait for it to be a Gary-sized hand.

We have done this for years. Sometimes it drives me crazy. I want to get home to make supper or I have some other seemingly important thing to do that likely isn’t important at all. Each time we put on our shoes one of them needs to see who they are that day.

My kids are getting older and their emotional lives are more complex. This time my son asked, “How old is Landon now?”

I’m guessing Landon is about 20 or so. It is interesting to think of the years. How is he doing? Does he still live in St. Albert? Where is his family? My son and I talked for quite awhile about Landon. It is amazing the life we made up for him in our heads. Once my daughter dried her hair and joined us, she joined in on the fun. She decided that her hand was more the size of a grown up hand.  You see at 10 she is growing fast and in her opinion is practically an adult.

There has been a lot of talk about public art in my small town in the last few days. There is concern over the cost. There is concern over how it looks, what people like, where it should be. I don’t have the answers to these questions. We as a collective whole need to make these types of decisions.

I do know that my kids like to hug the statue of Lois Hole. They like to pretend that the Bear behind St. Albert Place is eating them. I do know that I like to stare at the mural near the clock tower and contemplate how an artist got those little pictures to look like something different when they are all put together. I also know that others have had the same conversations and thoughts. I am not alone. I am part of something bigger.

I also know that public art is surprising. It makes us talk, laugh complain and connect. It connects us to the past, present and future. I know that these things are critical to our mental health.

Landon, if you are out there, I hope your life is as interesting as my son believes it to be. That said I highly doubt you are an astronaut that has a side job as a cop. Just know that our family is thinking of you. We hope that if you decide to have kids, they also get to compare handprints with the rest of the community.

In the age of Selfies, Facebook updates, Tweets and Instragram it is easy to see how self-absorbed we as a society are becoming. We post pics of our food, tell the world about our workouts and about how we are feeling minute by minute. We as a society beg for that feeling of connection through our computer.

I have had a fair bit of time off the last few months. This has been a stark contrast to the 8 months before. I was teaching, counselling, care-giving, parenting and running around like a frantic chicken. I wasn’t sure which way was up. It took a toll on my physical and mental health. It also took a toll on my relationships. I didn’t spend time with people that are close to me. As a result some people in my life were left feeling unimportant, left out and ignored. I felt like I was just putting out fires rather than actually living my life.

I have taken a lot of time to decompress these last few months. I have been able to get to a few household projects that I’ve ignored for years. I have been able to run, read and visit with friends. I deserved this time. More accurately perhaps is that I needed it. Still I often feel guilty and selfish.

I find that in my practice I am often encouraging people to slow down, and take better care of themselves. I tell them that it is okay to be selfish. I often need to take my own advice. I’m not surprised that is takes my clients a while to hear it. I often ignore it too.

On the other hand I also see the danger of being self-absorbed. If we only ever look to our own needs than we will end up living in a heartless, cold world. A world where my needs and wants outweigh the needs and wants of others. It is a place of disconnection and isolation rather than a place of compassion and empathy.

It is an interesting balancing act. How do we find the line between self-care and self-absorbed? How can I be the best I can be without alienating others?

There are tell tale signs when I am giving too much of myself. I feel disconnected. I use my phone to kill time rather than as a tool to help me in my life. I cannot focus and jump from task to task without ever accomplishing anything. I lose patience. I get frustrated. I feel pressured with the “needs” of others. I get resentful of all the things people want or expect from me. I just don’t feel like myself. It isn’t pretty.

When I am more focused on self-care, I have better boundaries. I am more present to those around me. I am gracious with the people in my life. I am compassionate and understanding. I give of myself more openly. I am more grateful. I have perspective.

To me the answer is in connection. I need to feel connected to people, to the world and to nature. Most of all I need to feel connected with myself. That is what slowing down and being selfish does for me.  It helps me connect.

Ultimately acting more selfishly, makes me less selfish.

A few years back my Dad turned 70. It was a bit of an eyeopener for me. I remember when my grandfather turned 70. He seemed so old. My Dad has never struck me as old. When my Grandpa turned 70 he used to tell me while saying goodbye to us at the airport that he has had a good life. It felt like he was preparing us for the sad reality that we might not see him again. He lived across the country so we only saw him a couple times a year. These words always came with a few tears. They never felt desperate or regretful, the tears were more of an acknowledgement of what we meant to each other. He lived for 23 more years.

So when my Dad turned 70 it felt a bit weird. He has outlived his own father. I’m not sure my Dad expected that was going to happen. He has always been a bit paranoid about his health. In my mind at 70 he magically turned into a senior. It isn’t a transition that I particularly liked, at least not at first. I don’t like the idea that my Dad won’t be around some day.

When I was growing up my Dad in many ways fit the stereotypes. He was a salesman for Kodak which meant he was away for work often. My Mom was left to single parent us a good chunk of the time. She was a stay at home Mom. She sewed and cooked as well as took care of most of the mundane child rearing stuff like picking kids up and dropping them off. She wiped our tears and bandaged our cuts.

My Dad did the “Dad stuff.” He fixed the bikes, mowed the lawn and barbecued the burgers. I have a vivid memory of my Dad trying to explain to me what an off-side was in soccer. He had salt shakers, pens and quarters all over the table positioned in the form of a soccer field trying to help me to get the concept. I also remember one of my favorite childhood games in which my brothers and I would try to wrestle my Dad to the ground to steal his cigarettes from him. Times have changed.

My Dad was also involved with us kids in other ways too. He was a very active Scout Leader. He loved to take us camping. He would drive us for hours on family trips just to get a picture of us in front of something for two minutes and then we would drive back. At least that is what it felt like. My Dad was more Clark Griswald than Mike Brady. He tried hard. His heart was in the right place but sometimes it just didn’t work out the way he planned.

He also is to blame for my feminist nature. He was the only Dad that went to the Girl Guide camp to volunteer. He didn’t think it right that he not be involved with his daughter’s activities. He repeatedly told my grandmother that I didn’t need to be a nurse, that I could also decide to be a doctor. My brother ended up the nurse. I’m not sure which one of my siblings will end up the doctor but I am almost positive one of us will eventually. We are a competitive bunch.

He always reinforced that my gender shouldn’t limit me. So despite growing up in a traditional household, I was encouraged to have a voice and be heard. I’m not sure that they entirely appreciated those traits of mine in my teenage years.

What I like about my Dad getting older is that he is more reflective. He has softened. I think he has spent a great deal of time looking back. He brings stuff up at the strangest times. We were waiting to watch a movie together when he decided to tell me how sad it made him that I chose to walk down the aisle by myself instead of having him walk me. My rationale was that I had already been down the aisle once. I felt like I have always done what is expected of me. I desperately wanted to be my own person. I wanted the day to be about me. Looking back now as a parent, it was selfish. I took something from him that day. I now regret that. I started to tell him how I felt and then the movie started and the moment was gone.

He also is more reflective on his own failings. He talks at times about how he could have done better. We didn’t get along very well when I was a teenager. We at times weren’t very nice to each other. As a parent I understand more now the sacrifices he made to raise us and the toll that those sacrifices can take on a person.

We are closer now. My Dad now just wants to spend time with us, and his grandkids. Yesterday my Dad insisted, despite my active resistance, to have my 6-year-old join him during his Senior Men’s breakfast. They were discussing woodcarving, this is something of which my son is taking an interest. It was quite the sight to see my little man sitting between his grandfathers and 50 other seniors listening to a lecture on knives and sharpening tools. As ill fated as this hobby seems, my Dad’s pride in introducing his grandson to his friends was worth the extra driving and frantic addition to my schedule.

Like most people his age, he has had health scares along the way. Honestly it freaks me out. I don’t want to think about losing him. He however has handled it well. Just like my grandfather did, as he ages he seems less panicked about the possibility of death. He is too busy volunteering, working on odd projects and trying to get permits to build his new deck. He is too busy trying to make amends, say his peace and build up his relationships with those close to him. He is involved in life in a way that I think he hasn’t been before. It is a joy to watch.

So to my Dad, Happy Father’s day.  I like you and love you.

Have you ever sat and contemplated a rock? Last weekend I spent a full hour on the side of a river contemplating one rock in particular.

I know you must be saying “that girl has too much free time on her hands.” Generally I am pretty busy but this last few weeks I have found myself with a bit of down time. For me, like most of you I assume, “down time” means I have a long list of things on my To Do list but all of them are easily put off for the time being. Like really, do I have to clean the pantry today? One more day of putting off paper work isn’t going to kill me. Usually I have a ton of things that have immediate deadlines. But not right now. Now I have some space to be still.

That leads me back to my rock. I have always loved rocks.  I collect them when we go on vacations. I put them in my garden as a way of surrounding myself with the places I have been.

In my early 20s, I went on a trip to Europe after a particularly difficult time in my life. I found myself on a beach in Nice, France holding a rock. I would later call it my grounding stone. It fit perfectly in my palm and was weighted enough to help me feel pulled, only slightly, toward the earth. Its edges were smooth and eventually the colour turned dark grey from the oils in my hand. I held it in my hand during difficult emotional times as a reminder that I was going to be okay. Eventually I found myself holding it less and less. I gave that rock away years later to a teen I was working with whom at the time I suspected needed it more than me. She probably did. Truth be told I regret giving it up. I should have helped her find her own grounding stone rather than giving away mine. That is a lesson that everyone in the helping profession learns the hard way eventually. I’ve never found another rock quite the same.

On the side of the river last weekend I was finally able to grasp my connection to stones. They are solid, ancient and yet still ever changing. Water can smooth their edges over time. I found myself thinking about the animals that stepped on the rock on the way to the river. I thought about how the water has moved the rock down from the mountain in which it was likely formed from bigger hunks of rock.  I thought of how the rock came from the earth and found myself in awe of how this rock was a result of a long chain of events going back to the beginning of time. Generations of people could have passed this rock and yet I may have been the first person to ever slow down enough to notice its significance. Then again maybe not.

I had a colleague tell me that when he is in nature he feels like nature is speaking to him. He describes it in a very real and personal way. I think I get now what he was trying to say. The rock was speaking to me. It was telling me that it is okay to be still.

This is not something I talk about often. I like to keep my work blog about work but it is election time and I find myself with something to say. That is because this time around it isn’t about my family. My husband ran for office first provincially and then municipally. Since 2012 it feels like we have been knocking on doors, juggling childcare and asking for money. This is the first election that we have been able to sit out.

It is strange because I kind of miss the drama. It is like a St. Albert version of the House of Cards, except without the murder, scandal, or Robin Wright. I see the sign wars happening. I see the bantering back and forth during the forums. I miss running all over our city with pamphlets playing the game of find the mailbox. It is easy in the newer neighborhoods but walk around Grandin for a while and you will see that people are pretty creative. I walked through more than one house there that made me feel like Alice in Wonderland looking for the rabbit. One house in Lacombe had a wee door attached to a huge tree that looks like a leprechaun must live there. I was tempted to leave him a pamphlet. After all any informed voter is a good one.

I also found interpreting mailbox signs an interesting game of perspective.  Does “No Junk Mail” mean no political flyers? We have a “No Junk Mail” sign but I would be annoyed if I didn’t get information on the candidates.  Does “No Soliciting” mean that I just shouldn’t knock on the door or does that mean they don’t want the flyer either?  Some signs are crystal clear. One sign in Heritage Lakes made a list: “No Junk Mail, No Soliciting, No Papers, No Religious Groups, No anything of any kind.”  I found it funny that there was a pretty “Welcome” sign over the door. I most definitely did not feel welcome. In fact I was pretty sure there was a troll hiding under the steps.

Volunteering for an election is hard work. You never know if someone is going to be pleasant, encouraging, dismissive, or aggressive. One of the things that I learned while supporting my husband is that politicians aren’t the slimy, money grubbing people that often get portrayed in our culture. In my experience even the people of which I share very little with politically are generally well-meaning, respectful human beings. Of course there are bad apples in every profession.

Being the wife of a politician is difficult at times. People say awful things about your partner. Many of which are blatantly untrue. Internet trolls are especially vicious. The reality is that we signed up for that. We signed up for the part-time paycheque, we signed up for the odd hours and we signed up for the ridicule. We knew it would happen and generally I am okay with it. That said I did get angry when my daughter came home upset because a student told her how the government ruins everything.

We also signed up for the joy of making changes. We signed up for the thrill of taking part and being present. I have lived in this city most of my life and I had no idea some of the things that this community does. If you haven’t gone to see the St. Albert Theatre Troupe do a performance you really should. We were there when the audience was filled with seniors from a seniors residence and I couldn’t decide what I enjoyed more: the play or how the elderly woman we were sitting with cackled every time someone mentioned sex. Also if you haven’t gone to the Art Gallery you are missing out. We have some incredibly talented artists in our community. There is so much more to this city than pot holes, train whistles and financial audits. I am immensely proud of this place.

I have been told several times and in different ways that I should be quiet and not have a political opinion because I am the wife. There is wisdom in this advice. People often think that a spouse’s behavior reflects on the politician. Or that being vocal could get my husband into a predicament with his colleagues. These are likely real dangers but the notion that my opinion should be withheld though strikes me as insanely sexist and dismissive. I am a voter too. Good thing my husband does not expect nor desire for me to shut up.

On the sidelines this election it is easier to see the big picture. I see five candidates in my riding and six in the Spruce Grove riding putting themselves out there. They are working their tails off to give you a choice. Some are nervous and inexperienced, others well polished and comfortable in the spotlight. All are trying their best. You may not agree with them or their political party but I guarantee you that none of them is out there trying to intentionally screw you over.

To the candidates: Thank you for your sacrifices. Our society cannot function without people putting their names and reputations on the line. You are brave. It isn’t easy to put yourself out there. For most of you there will be disappointment. Try not to equate that to who you are. We are lucky that there are people like you in our community.

To the families: Thank you for your sacrifices. You too are no doubt working long days. It is a long four weeks. It is almost over. The reality is that for most of you the defeat will be hard to watch and the sacrifice will be hard to swallow given the results. I assure you it is worth it, regardless of the outcome. Your partners are doing good work. This is a time they will never forget. Be proud of them.

To the rest of us: It isn’t often we get to have our collective say. The candidates are listening or at least should be. Talk, ask questions, get informed and vote. They deserve that much for their efforts.

And for goodness sake, put some clothes on before you answer the door.

 

My palms were sweating, my heart racing, and my breathing hard. I thought to myself, “Just press the button.”

For the last 4 years I have been working on becoming a Clinical Social Worker.  I have spent a lot of time listening, helping, counselling, getting feedback and supervision on the work I do. I have spent a ton of money on supervision and it was worth every penny. I have laughed and cried with my Clinical Supervisor. She has challenged me and I have gained confidence in my skills.

I have filled out piles of paperwork and had to jump through what feels like a million hoops. Strangely it was the paperwork that almost did me in. I almost gave up over a form I didn’t sign when I submitted to the Clinical Social Work committee. As a result they didn’t review my file in the final stages of the process and things got delayed. It was my Clinical Supervisor that told me I was being silly.

So last week I found myself at the final hurdle. In order to be approved as a Clinical Social Worker, the Alberta College of Social Workers requires candidates to write an exam. The exam tests clinical skills such as how to diagnose and treat a variety of mental health issues.  It focuses on theory and practice.  It is a standardized exam so I had to drive in to Edmonton to a testing centre. At the centre they scanned my palms, took my ID and sent me into the room. There were several others there writing their own exams, mostly psychologists writing their exam in order to be registered.

The room was absolutely silent, still we were issued earplugs. I went to the bathroom before the exam. I was worried I would have to go in the exam which would mean I’d require an escort. Nothing is worse than someone listening to you pee. This exam is entirely intimidating.

Once I started the exam I felt good. I had prepared myself for this. It was going to be okay. I know this stuff. I was actually pleased with my composure, other than a case of the wiggles. You see, sitting still and staying focused for 3 hours is not something in which I excel. But it was going well.

Then I got to the last question. In this exam you get your results immediately. Truth be told, I was a bit cocky going into the exam. I didn’t study as much as I would have liked. I just couldn’t bring myself to buckle down. I kept telling myself that I don’t need to have my “Clinical” designation to do the work I do. I told myself I could try again if I needed. Basically I convinced myself that if I failed that it didn’t matter to me.

Sitting at the computer staring at that “Submit” button I realized that I was wrong. It did matter. It mattered deeply. I have always struggled with feeling a bit like I am faking it through life, that I really don’t know what I am doing and that I am a total fraud. Sitting at that computer all that stuff came back. What if I failed? What if that proved my biggest fears, that I don’t know what I am doing?

In our society we often have been hearing more and more about overcoming anxiety. I work with many anxious teenagers and just as many anxious parents. There are blogs, strategies and whole therapeutic interventions on “winning the battle” over anxiety. Anxiety can be overwhelming but it is not the enemy. Sitting in that exam room, it was clear. My anxiety was just highlighting what was important to me. It was proof that this moment mattered.

Finally I hit the button.  Good news. I do know what I am doing…. well, most of the time.

I love sand sculptures. I love making them. I love spending hours sculpting them. I love how the wet sand moulds and changes as you shape it. I love how if you make a mistake you can just erase it by adding a bit of water. I love making them on the beach surrounded by the vastness of the sky and the overwhelming power of the ocean. Most of all I love that all the hard work is washed away by the tide. Ultimately the beach remains unchanged.

My family was lucky enough to head out on a tropical vacation recently. I was lucky enough to spend hours sculpting sand on a beach. Sometime my children helped. Sometimes they were drawn to playing in the waves. While I was creating my “masterpieces” I spent a lot of time processing the past few months.

Lately, my life has been a bit chaotic. Some of the change has been for the better. There was a change of jobs for both myself and my husband. We invited my husband’s father to come and live with us. Our children are growing and overall we are very happy. But life is not always sunshine and unicorns. Recently we learned again how fragile a sense of peace can be and how little control we really have in our lives.

Despite our best efforts to manage the chaos, the world decided to throw us some curve balls. We experienced the generational transition from child to caregiver. This happened in many areas of our lives. It seemed for a while that all of our friends and family were struggling with health, both emotional and physical. All that helping takes its toll. As a therapist and a Social Worker I have walked with people through chaos. At least theoretically I understand the toll. What I didn’t expect is how hard it is to watch your loved ones struggle when you feel powerless to help.

I often have pretty existential conversations with my clients.  They struggle with the big questions: What is the point? What is the point of living?  What is the point of trying? What is the point of working so hard? Everyone answers these questions differently. Religion and faith can play a role. Sometimes it is our family that help us find our way. Working towards a goal often helps to define a person and their lives. Still many of my clients come to the conclusion that there is no point. Some find this disturbing. Some find it oddly comforting.

I believe that as human beings we are genetically engineered to find meaning in our lives. I work hard to help people find meaning. That is usually the key to mental health – finding purpose. So it can feel like a failure if I can’t help a client see the point in life.

But on the beach, none of that seems to matter. There is a vastness of space. I am small and seemingly inconsequential to the power of the world around me.  Yet the experience makes me feel connected to the ebb and flow of it all. My life and my worries are small. They are important to me but to the universe they are just part of a larger whole.

What is the point of creating a sand sculpture? None really, but there is great beauty in that. It frees me to make mistakes, let go of the outcome and just enjoy the process.  We spend so much time trying to hang on to life, to get things done, to be someone important. Ultimately we do all we can to avoid death.  We try to fight the tide.

The point is to live, to create and to be present to the grandness of it all.  The sand sculptor is only here for a short time but that is the beauty of it.

My daughter came home from school a few days ago with a story that made my jaw drop. The kids on the playground were discussing the recent shooting of two RCMP officers in our small town. My daughter informed me that the shooter drove to a house in a rural area and shot a whole family before he shot himself.

It was a sad game of “telephone.” There were some facts in her story but many exaggerations and misinformation. Mostly an already dramatic and scary story turned into something even more scary and dramatic. The truth is hard enough for a 10-year-old to understand. During times of uncertainty, kids do this. Adults do this too. I can think of many examples from the past week where we have all been guilty. We take rumor that is presented to us as fact and then present it to others in the same way. We inadvertently cause things to be more difficult for all involved even when we mean well.

I have gotten many questions over the last week from parents wanting information on how to help their teens and children with the death of Constable Wynn. I thought I would try to put these down in writing so it can help anyone that may have some concerns.

1. Talk to your kids.  Regardless of the age of your child they will be exposed to this event in one way or another. Even if your child does not know the families directly, the community is mourning in very public ways. Flags are at half-staff, ribbons are popping up everywhere and on Monday we will have an unimaginable influx of officers, dignitaries and commotion will descend on the city.

2. Ask questions and listen.  What is your teen hearing at school? What are your child’s thoughts on what happened? If you are listening you will hear the misinformation and more importantly be able to hear their fears. You will be better able to dispel disinformation and reassure fear if you keep your ears open and your mouth closed.

3. Let them know that they are safe. Kids and teens are just like adults. They need to feel safe. We often like to believe that bad things don’t happen to good people. When faced with the reality of life, we all are often shaken up. While it is important not to lie, it is also important for them to have perspective. Remind them that these are isolated events and that they don’t happen every day and that they are unlikely to happen to them or someone they love. The RCMP are still doing their jobs.

If your kids are part of a family of military, RCMP or other first responders, the fear can hit closer to home.  Reassure your children of the training, equipment and safety measures that are in place to keep their family safe. Acknowledge the risk but focus on the protective factors.

4. Be honest. Teens and children need to know where to go for the truth. If you don’t talk about it, make up or gloss over details, your kids will know it. You don’t need to go into graphic detail, only answer what your child is asking.   

5. Watch your language. Children are very concrete. They don’t understand flowery language like “passed on” or “went to sleep.” It often makes us feel better softening the words but it can confuse and scare children. They need concrete language that they can understand such as “died” and “his body stopped working.” That doesn’t mean you have to leave your religious beliefs out, but be cautious about being too vague.

With teens you can be more philosophical, their ability to handle abstract thinking is more mature. Make sure to explore their understandings and beliefs, not just present your own. Adolescents need to explore all sorts of ideas so that they can figure out who they are in the world. Use the opportunity to understand them better. It will help you both feel closer.

6. It is okay to talk about the offender. Often kids try to make sense of what happened by searching for explanations as to “Why” or “How?” Talking about the offender is part of this questioning. Be open and honest. I have told my children what he did. I have told them that it has caused unimaginable pain to many families, and to our community. I have not called him a “bad guy”. We have to be careful that our kids, regardless of their age, don’t equate their own mistakes with them turning into a monster. In our family we talk about his family and how they may be coping too. This is a tragedy for so many involved.

7. There is no right or wrong way to grieve. Some people will be affected more than others. Some kids/teens will need to talk, some kids/teens won’t. Some will want to attend the memorial, some will not.

Give them the opportunity to talk, grieve and do whatever they need to do but don’t force them to do anything. One mistake parents make is to over-analyze, over-protect and over-process the events. Teens and children need to go back to their regular routine as soon as they are ready. If they are wanting to talk about other things, it is time to move on.

8. It takes time. Adolescents, and children grieve over time, just like the rest of us. You may find that this doesn’t affect them now but it may affect them later. These things come and go over time in unpredictable ways. We often give people a ton of support around the time of an incident but then fade out. There is no time frame or end date.

9. Support your kids in being supportive. If your child is a support for the families involved help them to be present to their friends. They don’t have to do anything special, just play, hang out and listen. Often teens avoid situations that are intensely emotional. So your kid may struggle to know what to say or do.

The Wynn family just need to know that people care, and that they can just be themselves. They don’t need to be treated with kid gloves, put on a pedestal, or avoided like they have some infectious disease. They have had a horrible thing happen in their life. They deserve our respect and our thanks but most of all they deserve to have people walk with them in their grief so they don’t have to do this alone.

10. Give yourself a break. Despite the “rules” I have laid out for you, there is no right way to do this. If you approach your child with love and compassion then they will learn from this experience about love and compassion. Trust your gut and your relationship with your child. Let that be the most influential guide.

Last night I went to bed fretting over how much laundry I have been ignoring.  It seemed important at the time. Last night Constable Derek Walter Bond was probably doing similar regular things. He probably talked to his loved ones on the phone. He probably ate dinner. He probably cleaned up his dishes and went to work.

Last night I went to bed worried about about how my son was going to get up at 5:00 am for hockey and thinking about what a wreck he was going to be the rest of the day. It seemed like a big deal. I have had a rough week. Last night Constable David Wynn likely said good bye to his family and went to work not thinking about the sacrifice he makes everyday. He probably wasn’t thinking about the danger his job puts him in. That’s the thing about heroes. They usually don’t even think about it.

This morning I woke up, still worried about the laundry, my son and what the day had in store. That is when I heard the news that Constable David Wynn and Auxiliary Constable Derek Walter Bond were shot in my small community. They were shot so I could worry about the everyday things in my life. They were shot so I didn’t have to worry about being safe. These heroes walk among us everyday.

I can’t stop thinking of their families. How last night they likely weren’t worried about their loved ones when they sent them off to work. I don’t think families can face that potential every day. I imagine they stuff the reality of that danger deep inside them. Their families are also heroes. Today I can’t stop thinking about what the families are enduring because of me and my family’s need for safety.

Again our community is struck by a tragedy of enormous weight. This time in the form of what seems like a senseless act of violence. Some of you will know the families affected. Some of you may have seen it happen. Many of us will be connected to this in some way. Our community suffers when something like this happens. No one is unaffected.

I am feeling helpless in the middle of all this. So I am doing the only thing I know to do. I’m writing and hoping that in some small way it can help. Here are some things to keep in mind while our community struggles to deal with the aftermath of these tragic events.

1. You are safe.  At least you are just as safe as you were yesterday, even if it doesn’t feel that way. Violent crime is actually declining across Canada but because of our Social Media world it feels like it is happening all the time. Our police officers do a good job of keeping danger as far away from us as possible. So despite how close this feels, you are safe.

2. It is okay to be emotional. Even if this tragedy hasn’t impacted you directly, many of us will feel shaken up. It affects us all indirectly. Chances are there are only a few degrees of separation between these events and someone we know. We have all driven down that road, been in or around the casino or near that golf course. It is okay to feel strange about that.

3. It is okay to not be emotional. We all deal with things differently. The trick is to not judge people who don’t react the way you do. We never know what other people have been through. Their reactions are an accumulation of their past and their present reality. This will be a big emotional deal for some, for others they won’t skip a beat. So much depends on who we are and where we come from. There is no right way to react.

4. Try to avoid blame, at least for now. It is easy to start pointing fingers at the mentally ill, the officers, government or even extremist groups. Anger is a normal reaction but it often is just a diversion from sadness. It can damage relationships, put up walls and create many unintended consequences that have a long term impact. When you have all the information, then decide what you think and if you need to take some sort of action.

5. Trauma triggers trauma. If you have had any trauma in your past then reading and hearing about these events can trigger your feelings about the past, sometimes without you even realizing it. Take it easy on yourself and get help if you struggle to cope. Talking about what you are feeling is an important first step.

6. Support each other. There is no doubt there are many people in the community that know and love people directly affected by today’s events. There are no words to make this right. The only option you have is to be present to them or not. They don’t need your words. They just need someone to walk beside them in this awful journey. So don’t worry about saying or doing the right thing. You probably will screw it up in one way or another.  They will forgive you if you are genuine. Just be present.

7. Don’t forget the kids. While we often feel it is our job to protect our children, it is not. Our jobs as parents and as a community is to prepare our kids for the world.  A colleague said to me the other day: “Prepare the child for the path, not the path for the child”.  This sort of thing will happen throughout their life.  They need to be taught how to deal with it.

When you are ready, talk to your kids about what happened.  Here are some tips for talking to kids about tragedy that I wrote after Thomas Wedman, a 6-year-old boy died in our community a year and a half ago. They will hear about today’s events. My hope is that they hear it from someone that can reassure them rather than a classmate on the park at school. Kids need to feel safe, loved and heard. And then they need to play.

8. Get it out. Talk, draw, run or whatever you do to get the feelings and thoughts out of your head.

9. Know when to stop. Sometimes we have to stop talking, reading and watching the events unfold. Our body and brain need a break from the intensity otherwise we may find ourselves traumatizing ourselves. Vicarious trauma is a real threat when we start to process events at such depth that our bodies and brains start to react like the trauma has happened to us.    

10. Say the words. It is hard to find meaning in tragedy. Sometimes the only thing that we can do is accept the lesson about the frailty of life and senselessness of the rat race we often get caught up in. Tell the people in your life you love them. Tell the RCMP how much we appreciate what they do. Make sure everyone knows how important they are in your life. These events aren’t meaningless if we learn from them.

Tonight my son is tired and the laundry still isn’t done. I can’t think of anything more pointless to worry about than that. I am safe because of people like Constable David Wynn and Auxiliary Constable Derek Walter Bond. My energy is better spent thinking of them and their families. I am humbled by their sacrifices. I hope I am worthy of such an immeasurable gift.

This morning I was looking in the mirror. This past year I have a new crop of grey hair and noticeable crow’s feet. They are undeniable in the bright morning sun. My pores are not as clear as they used to be, my skin not as tight.  I most definitely have softer edges all over my body than I used to. I’m not sure how this all happened but it did.  The funny thing is that I don’t think I have ever been as comfortable in my own skin.

My recent comfort with my wrinkles comes from a few months of long hard perspective. Life has been chaotic with changing jobs, new responsibilities, and increased professional pressure. My jobs require me to be present to the intense emotions in the lives of others.  I love it but it can be draining if I am not taking care of myself.

Recently life has also been chaotic with family.  Aging parents and grandparents as well as their health concerns have shifted my perspective back home. This is a pretty common occurrence for middle age. We all go through it at some point or another. Sometimes life has a way of reminding you what is important not with a gentle push but with a giant sledgehammer.

I thought I’d take a moment and share with you some tips that have got me through the last few months.

Tips for Dealing when Life Gets Chaotic

1. Drink Water  

I know it sounds crazy that something so small can make such a big difference but your whole system will be out of whack if you aren’t hydrated. You may not be able to control the chaos around you but you can stop for a glass of water.

2. Eat

Even when you don’t think you have time or aren’t hungry. Low blood sugar is the worst culprit when it comes to overreacting to stress. It makes everything seem less manageable and more intense.

3. Breathe

Stop for one minute and take some big breaths.  Imagine you are exhaling all the bad energy out and bringing all the positive healing energy in.  Breathe all the way down into the deepest part of your lungs.

4. Prioritize 

Don’t think about all the things that need to be done. Focus on the most important first. What is the most critical thing to deal with and be present to it.  I often have lists in my head.  The “who” needs me most always takes priority over the “what needs to be done.” Ignore completely things that don’t matter. No one cares that you haven’t vacuumed.

5. Accept that You Will Drop the Ball 

If the chaos lasts long enough then something will get missed.  Hopefully you prioritized well so that the thing that gets missed is really the least important. You are human and you will screw up. Try not to dwell on this.  I prefer to think that it makes me quirky rather than incompetent.

6. Learn When to say “No”

Most people ask a lot of others, not because they are jerks but because there is nothing wrong with asking. It is okay for them to ask, it is also okay for you to say “No”. A great perspective I once heard is that “when you say no to something, you are saying yes to something else.”

7. Your Energy is a Finite Resource

Don’t waste your energy with people or things that don’t value you as much as you value them. It feels good to be there for people in your life but healthy relationships are reciprocal. You should be able to rely on others to be there for you when you need them.

8. This Too Shall Pass

If you are taking good care of yourself than likely this is a temporary phase in your life. Sometimes no matter how well we plan and take care of ourselves we can’t prepare for what life throws at us.  Chaos can come like a tidal wave but it can leave just as fast. Try to ride out the wave rather than fight it. All you have to do is keep your head above the water.

9. Know When to Get Help

If chaos has rented a room in your life than there may be more going on then you care to admit. Trauma, grief, addictions and other struggles can be deep rooted. Often people feel like they are a magnet for chaos. What is more likely the case is that they invite chaos into their lives without even knowing it. If you need more professional help to sort it out than seek it out. There is no shame in reaching out whether it be to a friend or a counsellor.

10. Be Your Best Self

You can’t be everything to everyone but you can be someone to yourself. Even in chaos you can act in ways that make you proud of yourself. I am a big believer that we show our greatest strengths at our darkest times. You will learn what you are made of when chaos comes into your life.

The moral of the story: This year I have earned my wrinkles. I will wear them proudly.