“I’m not courageous,” they often say to me, clients who routinely put themselves in harm’s way in service of others. “I was just doing my job.”
“Were you scared ?” I ask.
“Well, I didn’t really think about it. I just did what I had to do, but yes, it was scary.”
To me, that’s courage. Courage isn’t the absence of fear… it’s being afraid of something, and still showing up. It may be getting out of bed in the morning and facing people when all you want to do is hide; or summoning the strength to go through a crowded store even though the memories of a crowded marketplace in Kandahar are still vivid; or responding to an accident scene when the last one still causes you to wake up at night. It may even be entertaining the idea of participating in the Landing Strong 12-Week Day Treatment Program when all you want to do is stay at home.
It’s about moving forward when every fibre inside of you is screaming to stop.
My fear… it’s judgement. Being misunderstood. So creating this program kinda puts me way outside of my comfort zone.
So why do it? Because for me, to stop pushing is to stop living. I don’t want to sleepwalk through my life. I want to be out there trying to change things for the better. Making sure that those of you who are struggling have a helping hand and community for support. Ensuring you know that you are not alone.
I’m doing my best to do small acts of courage on a daily basis, hoping that the cumulative effect will amount to something meaningful. Building the center, hiring the team, and creating a program so inspiring that I want to participate in it.
Will you join me?
Consider adding your name to our list of potential program participants. I’m working hard to find funding, so that finances aren’t a barrier to service. The earliest possible start date will be October 22nd, but seats will be filled on a first come first serve basis. If obtaining funding proves difficult, we may need to move our start date to the spring. Certainly demonstrating a need through a list of potential participants will help.
For those looking for leadership opportunities, we hope that some of the first round of program participants will be interested in taking on paraprofessional roles following graduation… being that person who is there for others in their time of struggle. It’s a time of amazing possibility and change.
I attended a marketing workshop recently and learned a marketing golden rule: ‘Never put yourself out there on social media when you are in the midst of a meltdown.’ Vulnerability is fine, but not a full on meltdown. What an excellent piece of advice. Can I promise that I wonder? I have made a commitment to be as authentic as possible to members of our community. To me, that involves the good, the bad, and the ugly.
I want you to show up, however you may be feeling or looking, without the need to act fine. On most days, I’m doing well. Occasionally, I’m not so well. I think it’s called being human. I like to call mistakes my “human moments,” proof that I am still alive.
Who am I? Sometimes I wonder. Am I the image that I am supposed to put out there on social media, happy and full of sparkle and life? Or am I the bedhead who wakes up reluctantly at 6:00 am, muscles sore, hauling my sorry self out in the rain to walk my dogs. I notice they love me no matter how I show up. If you take off the uniform, who are you? Are you still the same person? Maybe that question isn’t so easy.
Let’s agree to make no promises, but simply to show up. Be the best version of ourselves that we are able to be on any given day. For me, that’s enough. Some days it will be glamorous, on other days, maybe ugly. But it’s all good.
Now where did I put my horned rimmed glasses…?
This past weekend I was in Toronto visiting my brother, Martin, who also is the Artistic Director for PTSD Hero Comics. Together with his family, we enjoyed a lovely dinner at an outdoor restaurant at Pape and Danforth. We skipped our usual second stop of ice cream at a nearby store as dinner portions had been generous. Relaxed laughter and warm greetings were exchanged by strangers as we passed one another, mutually enjoying the beautiful summer evening.
On Monday, when I arrived home, I learned that there had been a mass shooting at that same location. The lives of 10-year-old Julianna Kozis and 18-year-old Reese Fallon were claimed. Among the 15 people injured was Danielle Kane, a 31-year-old nursing student who rushed to the aid of a shooting victim, with her boyfriend, not knowing that the pause in gunfire represented the shooter reloading. She lies in intensive care at St. Michael’s Hospital, uncertain if she will regain use of her legs. From this point forward, her life and all of those involved are permanently changed. For those first responders and individuals like Danielle who put themselves in harm’s way in order to assist others, the impact of this event will live on.
By what stroke of luck, I wonder, had we been elsewhere at the unfortunate time when things went so terribly wrong? My heart goes out to those who were not so lucky, and the families devastated by such senseless tragedy.
Landing Strong is a not-for-profit program and center designed to support military members, veterans, and first responders who have been injured as a result of trauma exposure. The goal is to have critical supports in place for people before they need them, acting proactively to mitigate the effects of trauma exposure. We want to be there for them when they need it, so they are not in a situation of scrambling for support after they are injured. Communities are only as healthy as the members who form them. We continue to do everything in our power to rally around those who have been injured, offering needed support.
Our thoughts are with you, our dear friends in Toronto. To those injured or killed and their families and friends. To the first responders who put themselves in harm’s way to assist with such a horrific scene, we thank you for working selflessly to make the world a safer place.
I remember from when I was a kid how my older brother and his friends were amusing themselves on a hot summer afternoon by jumping off a local shed roof. It was quite a height… perhaps seven or eight feet. Not wanting to be left out, I was determined to make the leap. I was terrified. I summoned up my courage and jumped.
Years later, when I went back and looked at the shed, I was amazed how small it looked. What had seemed an insurmountable obstacle at one point in time, later appeared to be relatively insignificant. It now doesn’t seem like such a big drop. I feel quite proud that I was able to conjure up courage as my ten-year-old self to do it. Had I not jumped, or had someone pushed me, I suspect it would have felt very different. This was a step I had to take on my own for it to have meaning.
Have you ever taken a big leap of faith? The scariest part is generally standing at the edge thinking about taking the jump. Once in motion, it’s not so bad.
If you’re reading this post, that’s already you. Just by virtue of being connected with us via our blog, you have taken that first step.
I’m working with a few veterans who have discovered the joys of guitar. Some play contemporary music, but surprisingly, most stick to the oldies. Good ol’ rock n’roll. I love to watch videos they show me of their playing, and the obvious pleasure it brings.
Have I ever mentioned that I also like to Rock?
Van Halen you may think, or perhaps Pink Floyd… maybe the Stones. Before you conjure up frightening images of me in a semi-goth Pat Benatar outfit, with full on spandex pants, high heeled boots, and crazy hair, I’d better stop you.
Actually, I’m talking about something much simpler: the practice of walking the deserted beaches of Nova Scotia, collecting beautiful rocks. I love the stillness of these coves, punctuated only by the sounds of wind, gulls, or a distant lobster boat. Walking with me is not easy, my family members have discovered. I find so many rocks that draw me in that I can’t carry them all. My family humours me and help out. Their stretched out hoodie pockets are a testament to the strength of my passion.
Once I get home, I wash them, and paint them. Simple beautiful images, always involving nature.
This quiet meditative practice stills my ever-turning mind, and brings me peace.
What will you do with them? People ask me. Actually, I love the fact that they have no real function. In a life where I have a million things going through my head at any point in time, there is something so incredibly satisfying about doing something that has absolutely no discernible purpose, except for the enjoyment it provides.
When I paint these rocks, I imagine them as graduation gifts for those of you who successfully complete the Landing Strong Program. Symbols of reclaiming of aspects of self that may have been lost, or been forgotten. A recalibration of overcharged nervous systems that now allows for moments of gentle reflection and appreciation.
I hope you’ll walk with me.
p.s. Spoiler alert: We’ll be doing some rock painting in the program. 🙂
Ever been so obsessed with something that it’s all you can think about? That’s kinda me these days. I constantly think about the Landing Strong Program. It’s almost all I talk about. It’s become a bit of a problem for me. I seem to have sidestepped small talk, and get straight to the point as I’m so hungry to make it happen.
I’m planning the open house, which will be this summer, and imagine what it will feel like when we receive word that we have been offered funding so that people might access services barrier-free.
I imagine myself being active with program participants: hiking, biking, golfing, fishing, swimming, doing yoga, pilates, and stretch classes. Heck as a clinician who sits all day, I’m excited about being active together.
I envision active, experiential learning, where we work in community to remove barriers, address fears, and instill confidence and hope.
I see laughter, and I see tears. Most importantly, I see people regaining the ability to connect with and express their emotions appropriately, even after years of feeling angry or flat. I feel their hope and witness the dawn of comprehension wash over their faces when they realize that recovery is possible.
I anticipate people discovering creative aspects of themselves that they did not know existed, or that have been long forgotten. I’ll know it’s there by the spark I will see in their eyes as they talk about what they’re doing. They will tell me excitedly how they plan to carry it over into the community.
I see families engaged, and happily involved with program participants and our larger community through our family support program. I definitely see us all going to on-tree together. Maybe a picnic at the beach or having some fun at a local gym or pool.
I am planning the intricate details of the graduation ceremony; even making small gifts to give to participants as I plan the celebration.
I see it that clearly. I hope that you are able to join me.