A Story From Charmaine
I have many stories – and probably more than my share of stories about getting lost. One such memorable story happened the day there was a board meeting scheduled out of town for one of the organizations that I am involved with. I had no childcare and decided that rather than miss the meeting, I would just bring them with me. They were ages 6, 5, 3, 2, and 11 months.
I loaded the children into the van, buckled the baby into his car seat, and started driving. I had a vague idea of my destination, but as I continued down the highway, every passing road sign made me question if I was still going in the right direction; every turn looked like it could be “the turn.” Uncertainty grew, as did my annoyance – why hadn’t I confirmed the route I needed to take before embarking upon the journey?
Finally, I swallowed my pride, called for directions, and we finally arrived at the meeting. A bit breathless and disorganized, the children and I tumbled into the boardroom. Everyone’s eyes were on me, watching with confusion, while I set the children up in the corner with crayons and colouring books. Pretending this is the way everyone comes to a board meeting, I straightened my clothes, put on a smile, and sat down to get to work.
At first, the kids were quiet. As the day went on, I began to relax. “Maybe,” I thought, “this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.” Looking back, I realize that I ignored the obvious changes in circumstances for longer than I should have. The snacks ran out — boredom set in. The children could now be found crawling around on the floor or running back and forth, giggles interspersed with the occasional shout that someone wasn’t playing fair. The accusations became more frequent and louder until it was crystal clear that I had lost control of the situation. I hustled the children out of the room, quickly trying to pick up the mess they’d left behind and whispering apologies for leaving early. I backed out the door, face flushed and feeling more than a little self-conscious.
Once again, I loaded everyone into the van, buckled up the baby, and started driving. We stopped at the gas station, and my 6 year old politely suggested that I ask for directions home. I rolled my eyes and explained that wasn’t necessary because we would simply go back the way we had come. I pulled away from the gas station. And promptly made a wrong turn.
It wasn’t long before I realized my error, but turning the van around was going to be difficult. I told myself that surely there would be a better road ahead, perhaps just on the other side of the hill. I kept my foot on the gas.
Instead of a “better road,” I found a small lagoon. And then we were stuck. Literally. The van sunk into the swampy mud, and that was that. The early spring rain had turned to sleet – abandoning the van and walking back to the main road was not an option. When I realized I’d forgotten to charge my cell phone and couldn’t call for help, my heart sank.I sat silently staring out the driver’s window, unsure about what to do next. It was now past supper. The children were not only restless but also hungry, tired, and full of non-stop questions: “Where are we? How much longer until someone finds us? How much longer, mom? How stuck are we, mom?” Finally, I took a deep breath, mustered up a cheery voice, and said, “There’s nothing to worry about. Yes, we’re stuck, but someone will come to rescue us.”
We waited. As the night started to envelop us in its darkness, fear and uncertainty sat like a weight in the pit of my stomach. My mind raced from one “what if?” to another. I imagined all the worst possible outcomes as if we were characters from the plot of a poorly written horror film. I told myself that if everyone would just fall asleep, we’d manage for the night, the cold rain would stop come morning, and we’d be able to walk to help if the help didn’t come to us first.
I was grateful that I had filled up at the gas station so I could keep the van running with the heat on. At the same time, I was ashamed of myself for having ignored the sage advice of a six-year-old when we were there. And why hadn’t I charged my cell phone? My internal voice continued to chastise: “why didn’t you….” and “you should have….”
I had started to doze off with my head resting against the window when my daughter’s frantic knock on the glass woke me with a start. I was so relieved that I instantly burst into tears. It had been a very long six hours waiting for that moment.
The next day, a tow truck pulled the van out of the mud and back up the hill to the other side to set it down on solid ground. I wish I could say the experience helped improve my sense of direction, but, these many years later, I remain as prone to getting lost as ever. I take comfort in knowing that when I inevitably get lost again, someone will come looking for me.
This is but one of countless stories contained in the chapters of my life. Some parts make me laugh when I remember them, and others make me cry. There are some stories that are more difficult to tell than others, and I expect there are many more stories yet to be written.
All stories are important, and I look forward to hearing yours.
A Story From Dominique
I saw my family doctor several times and a string of specialists over the course of four months in what became a frustrating parade of blood tests, appointments, and paperwork. Every step of the process I wished there could be one stable thing. Two doctors that agreed, one building to visit rather than five, a properly updated file, or the ultimately coveted solid diagnosis.
The professionals I dealt with were kind and knowledgeable. It just happened to turn out that internal problems are very challenging to pin down without surgery. I was frustrated, overwhelmed, and impatient to have the issues resolved. But really, apart from the actual pain, it was the physical sensations of navigating a system I knew nothing about that really got me. Every phone call, my heart would drop. Then as the irritation of no news or results grew, the helplessness and exhaustion would shut me down and make me want to hide until things magically resolved themselves.
I’ve since recovered from what turned out to be a collection of digestive issues and some compressed nerves in my spine, but the experience sticks out to me. The feelings I had of being lost, worked up, and scared are the same feelings I had after my first car accident managing my SGI insurance claim, or trying to sort out who would take over the car loan after a breakup, or when my grandmother died and honestly, I had no idea what to say to my distraught father.
There are times in our lives when we wish we could go on autopilot and have someone else inhabit our bodies to manage the fallout. I wished I could have slept right through this experience. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. What I need when I am in that state of brain fog and frustration is a guide. I hope that whatever your journey, whatever your story, that you can find guides. We don’t need to walk these paths alone.
A Story From Slade
Rest has never come easy to me. For as long as I can remember (and even beyond), I have struggled to spend the night sleeping. It’s just not how I’m built. I’m told that before I could even form full sentences, I would spend the night violently thrashing around in my sleep, horrified by whatever it is I would be seeing, hearing, and feeling. The night has been a challenge for me since the very beginning.
I eventually outgrew the night terrors, but they were replaced with an inexorable restlessness. Instead of spending the night terrified during sleep, I would lie wide awake in bed with racing thoughts that would not relent. I felt hopeless. I remember being just 11 or 12 years old and channelling my fear and frustrations into activities. I started exercising, reading books, doing puzzles, and writing stories—anything to distract myself from the fear and anxiety that would build up as the hours ticked away. The sun would eventually rise, but the same frustration still remained… Why can’t I just sleep like normal people?
As I started moving through my postsecondary education and into my career, I made a conscious effort to promote rest… even if that meant resting in a way that was less conventional than sleeping eight hours each night. With the help of a team of professionals—my physician, my psychiatrist, several counsellors, and more—I began designing a life and a schedule of rest that could accommodate my struggles. Rather than having an unsolvable problem, I was now armed with the education and advice that I needed to make informed decisions that suited my interests—even if those decisions looked different from the ones others would make.
Today, I can confidently say that I am well on my way to achieving self-determination in my own life. That’s not to say that I never have sleepless nights anymore, but rather that I have the necessary resources in my life to prevent my affliction from detracting from my long-term goals. Whatever your affliction or whatever your challenge, know that self-determination is always possible. Persistence, creativity, vulnerability, and knowing where to get proper advice when necessary are invaluable when looking to overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles. We are not limited by our circumstances or bound by convention. We are allowed to be unique. We are capable of exercising control over our own lives.
Family Law | Mediation | Wills & Estates | Real Estate
BA, JD Associate Lawwyer
A Story From Monica
Processes can be frustrating when the terrain is foreign. Feeling vulnerable or not in control of the process is not something that anyone desires to feel, especially when they are told by the world around them that to be strong is to be independent. One thing I have learned is that vulnerability is not a sign of failure but a reminder that we need each other at times and that life can throw you curveballs! Having someone walk beside you and advocate for your desire for communication or your need to make it past the red tape can begin the process of gaining back some calm in the storm. I am speaking from experience in my own life where emotional drain and outside forces caused my ability to effectively speak for myself to be impaired. Having someone to bounce ideas off of who was not in the thick of the storm and to calmly communicate my needs to those who could affect the change, allowed for some clarity and some clouds to be lifted. It can be empowering to know that you still have a say in your life, even when you feel overwhelmed. I want to ensure that whether someone is going through a loss, dealing with stressful paperwork or the joy of gaining a family member they are not alone in the process and hopefully can make your day, and your paperwork, a little bit clearer!
BA, JD, Student at Law