Another great restorative yoga class this week left me feeling calm and centered (thanks Lisa!). At the end of the class, we practice Savasana, a pose where we lie silently on our backs, eyes closed. This exercise isnât a physically challenging one, but it is one where the mind tends to wander. During this part, our instructor played a wonderful rendition of the tune âSea of Love,â the theme song from the 1989 box office movie sensation. In this moment, where we are supposed to be clearing our minds, I was replaying a scene from the movie involving Al Pacino, who plays the role of a burnt-out cop. He is part of a sting operation designed to apprehend people with outstanding warrants, luring them in with the promise of having breakfast with the American Major League baseball star Dave Winfield. Everything was going smoothly until one late-comer shows up holding the hand of his young son.
âHey, am I too late?â he asks.
âYou got an invitation?â Al Pacino demands. The father hands over a piece of paper.
âErnest Lee, the invitationâs for you only,â Pacino asserts.
âI can hardly meet Dave Winfield without takinâ my boyâ, the man pleads.
Not wanting to ruin what was clearly a positive relationship between father and son, Pacino decides to cut him a break.
âWeâre all booked up.â Pacino discreetly flashes his police badge, signalling to the father that the baseball player event was a trap.
âThanks man,â the father backs away with his son.
âCatch you later,â Pacino responds before driving away.
Itâs a dark film, about a dark topic, but many years later thatâs the scene I remember⊠someone in a dark place, showing an act of compassion.
Memory and association are closely related. It is not the actual events that create our emotions, itâs how we process and remember these events. If I were stressed out maybe I would have remembered the fact that Al Pacino was a drunk and that the movie was actually about a serial killer. Because I was relaxed, I just remembered the good bit… the compassion.
This is a reminder for me to take the extra time to care for myself. If I take this extra time the bad things I may have experienced donât seem quite so awful. (And believe me, in my seven years acting as Chief Psychologist in a federal penitentiary, there was bad stuff). If I take the time to process these events, they donât affect me as much. I am more able to remember the good aspects of my job.
Many of us have experienced or witnessed incredibly traumatic or dark things as a routine part of our daily work. Looking back, how we feel about them is largely determined by how we remember them. The lens of trauma only remembers things the same way, repeated over and over. By welcoming the perspective of others in a safe and supportive environment, we open ourselves to seeing things in a new light, often changing the way these events emotionally impact us.
Recently things have been a bit hectic. Iâve a lot on the go, and am feeling pulled in a number of different directions. For that reason, I decided to spend last weekend centering myself. I thought nothing would be better than to simply spend a day just being: noticing and appreciating the beauty around me. Otherwise known as mindfulness. Iâve been trying to fix up some old chairs, but trying to reupholster them was starting to feel overwhelming. Joe, my supersonic husband, suggested a 25 km bike ride from our cottage to Bear River, and I naively said âgreatâ.
Wanting to fill my life sandwich with more knowledge, I ventured out into the countryside eager to expand my understanding of the cosmos. It was here, in the pastoral fields of Clementsville, that I witnessed wildlife that I had never seen before roaming free in Nova Scotia. Zebras.
Feeling I was on a winning streak of enlightenment, I pushed on in my odyssey, and was rewarded with other amazing finds. On the way back through town, I met Walter Wambolt, who appeared to be quite the man about town. Confident and assertive, he was a man of a few words and turned out to be a great listener.
I made the internal commitment to be more like him. Walter beckoned me into a nearby bakery. It was there, in a back room of the bakery, that I discovered a hidden upholstery shop. The baker, it turns out, is a talented fellow who is also able to help me reupholster some chairs I am reclaiming.
So all in all, it was a pretty great day. I did make it home, and could barely walk the next day, but no worries. I felt complete with all the new teachings. Iâm going to keep working on this mindfulness thing.
I was going for a hike last weekend when I stumbled across the perfect example of resiliency. A magnificent mushroom, in the middle of a gravel road, pushing its way up towards the universe. Despite everything that says it shouldnât exist, it appears to be thriving.
It made me ponder the meaning of resilience: not just surviving, but thriving in the face of adversity. Having that wonderful Indian rubber ball âbounce backâ quality when life throws us hard knocks.
Many people I work with tell me that I better not expect them to get all emotional because they âdonât do that stuff.â
Ignoring the emotional impact of our experiences takes a bigger toll than we think. Dealing with the emotional impact of our experiences is often harder than carrying out the duties of our jobs in the first place. Itâs a completely different headspace than being in operational mode.
When we arenât able to experience or express our feelings, we create an emotional backlog that eventually catches up with us. Itâs only possible to keep this up for so long. This is one of the reasons we see so many military members and first responders people performing at a top level in their careers, only to experience problems after many years of service or following retirement. They arenât broken, they are suffering from emotional backlog.
By learning to clean our emotional closet regularly, we prevent injury.
How do we do this? By being vulnerable. Resiliency isnât about being tough, itâs about knowing how and when to take care of ourselves so that we can continue to do our jobs and be okay.
We grow stronger by shining a light on the darkest areas of our lives, and understanding the emotional impact of these experiences on us. Going to those places that we least want to go. Our resiliency comes from fearlessly facing the emotions that accompany them.
So as you can see, courage is tied into resiliency. And the people who are doing the work of recovery are some of the bravest people I know.
We are hosting a Celebration of Resiliency in conjunction with the Grand Opening of our new Landing Strong Centre in Windsor, Nova Scotia. Weâd love to have you join us in celebrating the strength of our community, and the military members, veterans, and first responders who serve them. Letâs also celebrate the families who support them, because they are indeed, as the Military Family Resource Center puts it, the strength behind the uniform.
This weekend, while at the cottage, my son Kyle came into the kitchen munching a Jos Louis.
âWhere did you get that?â I asked, surprised to see it.
âThe back of the cupboard,â he grinned.
âFunny, I donât remember buying them.” Needing to see this for myself, I rummaged through the back of the cupboard. I soon realized why I didnât remember buying them… the expiry date was September 28, 2016.
âStop⊠thatâs two years old!â I warned.
âAnd never tasted better!â he responded laughing.
Funny, not many things in life are like that. Most things decline with age. There are of course exceptions: fine wines, good cheese, and Jos Louis are among them. Bread found in IMPâs (military rations) are perhaps another. Iâll never quite understand how something can be deemed edible but non-degradable.
Doug Allen, former infantry Sergeant, Program Manager and Social Worker with the Landing Strong Team, is definitely someone who holds his own (and in fact keeps getting better) over time.
Doug spent 17 years in the Canadian Forces, stationed with the Patriciaâs Canadian Light Infantry. He has conducted Peace support operations in Bosnia, combat operations in Afghanistan, and various domestic operations here in Canada. Since returning from Afghanistan in 2008, he has been working with ill and injured Canadian Force members helping them to overcome trauma and reclaim their lives.
Dougâs approach to trauma recovery focuses on reducing the âchargeâ of fight/flight or freeze, and helping to break out of survival mode. He believes that every person has the strength to become well, as long as they are in an environment that inspires and empowers change.
Youâll recognize Doug by the twinkle in his eye, his quick grin, and his cool tattoos. We welcome his leadership and inspired energy. Hmmm, now that I think about it, he doesnât seem to age⊠I wonder Doug, do you by any chance eat Jos Louis?
One of the physical hazards of being a psychologist is that much of my working life consists of sitting. Itâs literally killing me⊠hence part of my motivation to create a program that is engaging and physically active. I want to move with you.
Have I mentioned that my family is hard core into fitness?  I just returned from a vacation out West where we participated in the Great Canadian Death Race, followed by a back country hiking trip through the Rockies. Itâs the Seagram idea of fun. What is the Great Canadian Death Race you ask? Itâs 125 km of mountainous terrain covered by a team of five people over a 24 hour period. No, I did not compete⊠Iâm not at that level. I was the support crew.
My daughter Mackenzie, the Landing Strong Director of Wellbeing and Community Engagement, played a vital role with the team, tackling a 38 km mountainous section. She killed it. A graduate from Acadia University with a psychology and nutrition double major, she practices what she preaches. She represented Acadiaâs Cross Country Running team for four years, last year making it to Nationals. She has also competed at the Canada Games representing Nova Scotia in a Biathlon; and in her free time summited Mount Kilimanjaro twice. In her down time, she works on getting me to reach for hummus instead of cookies. Shall we say, itâs a work in progress. Iâm grateful that we have someone so uniquely qualified to help us get active and engaged! Mackenzie is setting the food plan for Landing Strong, coordinating community activities, and planning outdoor adventures for us. She is also generating much of the health promotion social media content that we are putting out over Facebook and Instagram. The quirky sense of humour⊠thatâs her. I hope you will join me in welcoming her to the Landing Strong Team.
Do I sound like a proud parent? Well I guess I am, but I am also incredibly proud of the huge talent we have assembled in the Landing Strong Team. Itâs bursting with passion, expertise, enthusiasm, and commitment. Over the next few weeks, I will be introducing you to various members of the team, so that you have the opportunity to get to know each of us on a more personal level. Over time, perhaps you will share with us details about your journey, so that we might walk together.
[In the team pic attached L to R: Dale Block, Joe Seagram, Kaitlin Proksch, Kyle Seagram, and Mackenzie Seagram.]
“Iâm not courageous,” they often say to me, clients who routinely put themselves in harmâs way in service of others. “I was just doing my job.”
“Were you scared ?” I ask.
“Well, I didnât really think about it. I just did what I had to do, but yes, it was scary.”
To me, thatâs courage. Courage isnât 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.
Itâs about moving forward when every fibre inside of you is screaming to stop.
My fear⊠itâs 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 donât 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.
Iâm 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. Iâm working hard to find funding, so that finances arenât 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. Itâs a time of amazing possibility and change.
I attended a marketing workshop recently and learned a marketing golden rule: âNever put yourself out there on social media when you are in the midst of a meltdown.â 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, Iâm doing well. Occasionally, Iâm not so well. I think itâs called being human. I like to call mistakes my âhuman moments,â 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 isnât so easy.
Letâs 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, thatâs enough. Some days it will be glamorous, on other days, maybe ugly. But itâs all good.
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. Michaelâs 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 harmâs 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 harmâs 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 doesnât 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, itâs not so bad.
If youâre reading this post, thatâs already you. Just by virtue of being connected with us via our blog, you have taken that first step.
Iâm working with a few veterans who have discovered the joys of guitar. Some play contemporary music, but surprisingly, most stick to the oldies. Good olâ rock nâroll. 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, Iâd better stop you.
Actually, Iâm 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 canât 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 youâll walk with me.
p.s. Spoiler alert: Weâll be doing some rock painting in the program. đ
