Breaking The Silence

I have a brother who is the pastor of a church in Saskatchewan. Occasionally he will send me his sermons. Now, whether that is because he feels I don’t go to church often enough or whether he thinks I need more spiritual food than what I am getting or whether he just feels that the topics he picks will interest me, I am not sure. Perhaps it doesn’t matter. I have another brother who is not a pastor but probably should be. Then again, based on my mother’s opinion, I should probably be one too. However, that is a topic best left for another day. So in a nutshell I have one brother that is “Mennonite” (leave that one alone as well) and one who is Catholic. Then again I have a friend who is a Lutheran pretending to be Catholic. So what am I? Since our move I have been to a Catholic church and a Mennonite church. I suspect that would categorize me as being between churches.

Back to the real topic. The latest sermon I read talked about breaking the silence. Reminded me of the work I have been doing in the last few years. Ironically, the same day I read the sermon I did a noon hour interview on CBC radio noon. The topic was the ever worsening plight of our hog farmers. I emphasized the fact that people need to talk more. They need to open up. Find a support system. Find the resources that can help them. They need to break the silence.

“Breaking the silence” is a common theme in today’s world. When you google “breaking the silence” there are over 7 million results. 7 million. Quite astounding, actually. In my work with the Manitoba Farm and Rural Support Services we often talk about “breaking the silence” as it concerns depression and suicide. In my radio interview I was again asked about my experience with depression. I have often related how I kept it quiet. Even today when I find myself slipping I am loathe to talk about my mental health issues. Why is that? Why is there such a stigma to talking about how we are feeling mentally or emotionally? I have no problem telling anybody who will listen when I have a back ache. I quite openly complain about being tired. My wife thinks I never stop complaining when I have a cold. These ailments are easy to talk about. However, talking about feeling down, feeling anxious, feeling helpless, is difficult.

“Silence is to say we can imagine nothing else than what is and we are quite prepared to accept the evil as the best and only thing that can be.” I took this quote directly from my brother’s sermon. That quote really hit home for me and my struggles with negative thoughts and feelings. When I allow the dark clouds to move in, when I do not act proactively against these feelings, I often times feel like I am conceding. I am giving in. I seem to accept the darkness as the only thing that can be.

The challenge for us is also to be aware of those around us. Many of us have friends and neighbors who are struggling due to a variety of reasons. These people often times feel alone. They have withdrawn. Perhaps they could use our help. “Maybe there is a silence that needs breaking but the people who need to be heard simply cannot find their voice. It’s been silenced for too long, the pain is too great, the hopelessness has gone on for too long? You can break the silence for them, and give voice to their cry, their pain, their groaning.” (Another quote from my brother. If nothing else he should at least know that I read the stuff he sends me.) I know from experience that talking to someone about my issues helps. I have also found that when I talk, others share with me. I just hope that I can help others like others have helped me. Make it a good one.

Means To An End

The hog industry is in the news again. Over the last week we have heard of two large companies seeking court protection from their creditors. An industry that had so much potential is facing ongoing challenges. At the outset of 2012 there was significant optimism. The future looked bright. Feed prices were relatively stable. Futures prices for hogs were good. I talked to some producers who had locked in very favorable prices. But then that changed. Drought hit the American mid-west. Feed prices sky rocketed. Potential profits turned to devastating losses. What looked good, no longer was.

It is difficult to imagine how much money has been lost in the industry. Back in the mid 1990’s there were many positive market indicators that showed the industry having nothing but success. The government of the day jumped on the band wagon. The Manitoba industry was promoted around the world. Study after study showed how Manitoba could be and would be the place to produce hogs. But since 1998 the industry has had more downers than uppers.

I remember 1998. It was the beginning of the end for many producers. The price hit all-time lows. It was said at the time that producers lost 15 years of equity. Some knew that it would be a struggle to make that back. Many tried. Many failed. Some sooner than others. I have sometimes said, facetiously, that I was one of the first to lose my farm. My claim to fame. Truth be known, I have looked back and thought of things that I could have done differently that could have kept me in the game. In the last few years I have come to the realization that my demise as a farmer was inevitable. Some people have suggested I was lucky. Maybe I was.

Over the last few years I have dealt with many fellow hog producers. So often the question comes up, what will I do? Is there life after farming? Many have reached the age where they thought they were working towards retirement only to have, what was once worth thousands or millions, become a liability. Not something that promises a healthy retirement. Now they wonder, what next?

Often times we hear that there is more to life than money. Don’t even get me going on the current labor dispute in the NHL. The top Jets player will be losing $64,000 per game that is not played. That is more money than many people make in a year. Much could be said about that. Often it is said that money is simply a means to an end. Far too often these comments come from people who have never experienced the devastation of losing all. The devastation of coming face to face with the reality that life has changed. The reality is that money is important. And yes it is the means to an end. An end to one part of life as we move into the next phase. A comfortable retirement. For years we have committed to the demands of our farms. Sacrificed, because some day all that work and effort will pay off. When you have a passion to farm, when you are connected to the land, when farming has been your life, it is very difficult to see anything beyond that.

The stress of facing these financial challenges is enormous. Our pride is hurt. Our self-esteem takes a beating. We feel like such failures. We feel lost. We feel alone. This stress often hampers our decision making abilities. It hampers us from making good choices. We do things we would not normally do. Far too often these poor choices only make things worse. The good news in all of this is that there is help. There is relief. The key is to reach out for help. There are others that have been there. There are those that can guide you through the process of moving on. And best of all. There is life after farming. I know. I have been there. Make it a good one.

Random Acts Of Kindness 2

I did a random act of kindness early one morning last week. I wish I could say I had done it intentionally. Not so. I was rushing to a meeting. Enroute I stopped at the bank to deposit a cheque. I also needed cash. No problem. It’s handy when you drive by the bank on the way to your destination. Downtown Winnipeg I stopped at my usual coffee corner for a coffee and muffin. I put my hand in my pocket to grab my money. It was at that point that panic set in. I had no cash. My mind started racing. Where could it be? I checked my pockets. Twice. I thought I had lost it. I thought back to my stop at the bank. The only conclusion I could come up with is that I never took it from the ATM. I was in a hurry. I was somewhat preoccupied. Of course, this created a distraction all morning.

Why am I telling you this story? Plain and simple. I knew that at some point I would have to fess up. Admit to my forgetfulness. My stupidity. My ineptness. Break it to my wife. I shared this with one of the participants in my meeting. She laughed and suggested what she doesn’t know can’t create issues. I could only wish it would be that simple. Unfortunately my wife checks the bank balance on a daily basis. There would be questions about why I needed to make two cash withdrawals in one day. I needed cash to pay for parking. It would be tough to fool anyone.

I have another problem. Since I was young I have never been able to hide any feelings of guilt. In fact I can recall my mother questioning me when she thought I had a guilty look on my face in spite of me not having done anything wrong. That problem has stuck with me. I wear my thoughts on my face. Tough to keep secrets that way. Tough to hide anything.

So at noon I called her. Curious what I would hear. Filled with trepidation over what she would say. She laughed and without missing a beat suggested that I had made someone’s day with that screw up. That was it. The only verbal abuse I got for that incident was what I gave myself. And trust me, I did give myself a true tongue lashing. I am really getting good at that. Call myself everything in the book. Accomplish nothing by doing that.

So what now? I stopped in at the bank to ask them. They said I should bring in my receipt and they would investigate. Oh really? What if I don’t keep my receipt. I never even look at them. Don’t want to know. Stems back from my farming days. What I don’t know can’t hurt me. I wish. Well, as luck would have it I found my receipt. In my car, in the cup holder. How it got there I have no idea. It’s still readable, in spite of the coffee stains. See if they can investigate that.

I challenged a client today that they should leave the past behind and look ahead. Move on. Like the saying goes, “scars remind us of where we have been but do not have to dictate where we are going”. Perhaps that should be my goal. After all, it was only 60 bucks. Ouch, that still hurts. But, I suspect, I have probably spent money on things less useful. Lesson learned. In the meantime I made someone’s day. I hope. Make it a good one.

Hope Springs

The good news is, I remembered my wife’s birthday. Even better, the kids took control of the evening. They made dinner. Not my favorite but who cares. I did not have to prepare it. One son surprised his mother by showing up earlier than she had expected. All I did was suggest, early in the week, that I would take them all to a movie. Of course, with me paying the way, I got to choose. Ever mindful, of course, of what my wife would like to see. I chose the movie Hope Springs. Not because of the topic, a middle aged couple having bedroom issues, but because I like the main actors. Tommy Lee Jones and Meryl Streep. I suspected it would be good.

I would be remiss in not pointing out that my kids were not that enthused about the movie pick I had made. One hates movies and did not want to go at all. Another one suggested that the Bourne Legacy movie was showing as well. He obviously knows my weakness for the Bourne movies. But they humoured me. We all went. By the time we got there the theater was almost full. We had to sit right in front. I did notice, however, that our kids were the youngest people there.

I enjoyed the movie. Had a few good laughs. Noticed quite a bit of laughter coming from behind us. Some of it seemed like nervous laughter. I was wondering if there were parts of the movie that was hitting some nerves. You know the old adage, truth hurts? I suppose that is what happens when you have a bunch of middle aged people watching a movie about relationships, particularly as it concerns the physical aspects of a marriage. It was hilarious to see Tommy Lee Jones playing the role of a man forced to go to marriage counseling. Frustrated, nervous, nonchalant. A roller coaster of emotions.

What I got out of that movie was that we need to make an effort at retaining and maintaining our relationships. It does not happen on its own. We need to work on it. No different than many other things we do in life. If I don’t practice and work on my golf game on a regular basis it goes awol. If I don’t keep up with training and working at my mediation skills I lose my effectiveness. If I don’t watch what I eat or drink my body does not respond the way I wish it would. Quite frankly, this age thing is wreaking havoc with that. The point is that we need practice, we need “updating”, we need to work on all aspects of our lives. And there are times that we need to seek professional help.

It’s called relationships. We have partners. All of us make mistakes. We are human. All I can say is hope springs. The lesson I learned from the movie is simply this. Communication is important. Jumping to conclusions, making assumptions, picturing in our minds what might happen are exercises in futility.

My wife and I are taking a break for the weekend. Take a little trip south. Grand Forks. Ironically that is where we went on our honeymoon 30 years ago. Hmmmm. Wonder what will be different this time around. I may tell you about it, but then again, I may not. Make it a good one.

What All Ails Me

Over the course of the last few weeks I have heard numerous diagnoses of all my problems. Based on that you are thinking I have seen various professionals for their opinions. That is not the case, although I think I may need second opinions on what I am about to tell you. Perhaps a professional can tell me whether what I have heard has any merit and actually does pertain to me.

I am reminded of the person that went to see a psychiatrist. He had a problem. For years, since he was a child, he had been frightened about what was lurking under his bed. It truly scared him. So he went to see a professional. The psychiatrist heard him out and then offered to help him get over this problem. But, he informed him, it would be a lengthy process. Would take multiple appointments. The gentleman said he would need to think about this. Many months later the psychiatrist met this person on the sidewalk. He asked him why he had never come back. The guy informed him that a bartender had cured the problem for him. The good doctor was somewhat bemused about this and asked how that could possibly be. The gentleman told him that the bartender had suggested he cut the legs off his bed. Now the problem was gone. He knew for a fact that there was nothing under his bed. Sometimes it is that easy.

While up at Hecla a few weeks ago my friend gave me a listening ear as I related to him some of my issues. I related how I felt unsure of myself, particularly as it relates to my work. I have written about this before. (Met Mei Es Et Nousht, Jan. 26, 2011) At the time I had very low self-esteem. As we talked about it now, he very confidently told me that I am suffering from Imposter Syndrome. He also told me that this is quite common amongst people that do my type of work. I smiled and thought, yeah right, what do you know. When I got home I googled it. Sure enough. He was right. There is actually information on this syndrome and it sounds like what I have.

I also mentioned to him that I had been experiencing anxiety as of late. (I often refer to anxiety in my blog) I related how I was not sure what to do about it. When I did an inventory of my life and the situations I was dealing with there really was no reason to feel anxious. Again, he was quick to jump in and told me that I was suffering from Existential Nausea. Again, I smiled. That one sounded really different. Could it be? I googled that one as well. Wouldn’t you know it? He was right. Again, there is a lot of information on it. Sounded just like what was ailing me. Although when I read it, it seemed that this certain issue included feelings of guilt. It had certain religious connotations to it. Was not sure I wanted to go there. Been fighting that one since I was a kid.

This morning I heard about Last Putter Syndrome (LPS). Although this is not a medical term it again describes me to a tee (no pun intended). It simply refers to the last person to putt on any given hole. (here you thought I was not going to mention golf) I thought about it and it made sense. As the last person putts the others in the group are getting ready to leave the green, putting head covers on putters, picking up the pin, or a host of other activities. Wouldn’t you know it? I missed my putt. I have LPS.

So what now? I have all these things, these maladies, these syndromes I need to deal with. And the more I check symptoms on the internet the more issues I have to deal with. I actually think I went through menopause last week. You may laugh, but I had the symptoms. For the moment it feels overwhelming. Perhaps I need the help of a professional. Then again, perhaps I can help myself. I will try that. Make it a good one.

Recipe For Success

I was golfing with a friend the other day. On one tee box I teed up the ball then stepped back to assess the situation. I did a play by play commentary on what I saw. There were the trees on the left side. There was a green surrounded by bunkers. Must have been a par 3 for me to be concerned about bunkers around the green. There was a river between me and the green. And there was a strong left to right wind. After having said all that I started saying “this is a recipe for disaster”. Before I had a chance to say disaster my friend piped up and said “success”. I stopped my pre-shot routine, stepped back and asked him what he had just said. He repeated that this was a recipe for success. What a wakeup call that was.

A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to golf with another neighbor. One I had not golfed with before. When we got to the 17th hole he told me how that hole was his nemesis. He could tell exactly what would go wrong. And trust me. Everything he said would happen, did happen. Not sure that ball will ever see the light of day again. As we walked from tee box to green he talked about how when you picture a bad shot you surely will have a bad shot. We talked about losing our confidence when we come across certain holes that have created problems in the past. We get spooked. We picture disaster. Our body seems to go spastic. Our brains turn to mush. It’s as if we had never before swung a golf club.

Watching TV the other day I saw a commercial featuring Florida Orange Juice. I have seen the commercial before and may have mentioned it in a previous blurb. There are actually 3 of them featuring a mother, a father and a son. The commercial depicts any one of the 3 pouring orange juice in the morning. Sitting around the table with them are people that they will be involved with during the day. Sitting around the table with the father are the newspaper carrier, computer techy, his secretary and his daughter. Each of them informs the man how they will be involved in screwing up his day for him. That is like knowing each morning what will all go wrong that day. That would be a recipe for disaster in my books. I suspect there are days that I would go right back to bed if I knew what was awaiting me. ( I wish someone would have given me a heads up this weekend on what would all go wrong with my golf game. I would have stayed in bed)

They say golf is 90 % mental. You can talk yourself out of any shot. When I look back at many of my experiences I suspect that I talked myself out of a lot of success. I have this ability to just see the hazards. We visualize disaster. Many times when we have had an inordinate amount of challenges we become like my neighbor did on that 17th hole. We become spooked. Always afraid of what may be lurking around the corner. And when we actually succeed at something we think we were lucky. We think it can’t be. We look back and try to figure out how that could have happened.

We need a shift in attitude. A paradigm shift as it were. Go from our negative, toxic way of thinking to a positive, uplifting thought pattern. We know things can and will go wrong. That is part of life. How we react, how we handle negativity and how we move on from adversity will define our life. Remember, we are good. We can make that shot. We have before. It can be a recipe for success. Make it a good one.
“Dare to dream, dare to try, dare to fail, dare to succeed”

What Men Know About. . . .?

My daughter got a book given to her by a patient. That night when she got home she showed it to her mother. I noticed the title from where I was sitting and was instantly intrigued. Sounded interesting, although I was a little suspicious. The title of the book is “Everything Men Know About Women”. Some of you may have seen it, even read it. When I finally had the chance to peruse it I obviously read the back cover first. It spoke highly of the author and his knowledge on the subject. It mentioned frequently asked questions about the subject. So I decided to take a chance and opened the book.

The first page was blank. The second page was blank. The third page was blank. I was thinking to myself that the author had a sense of humour. That’s a good thing. After turning a few more pages I finally came to the realization that the entire book was blank pages. Ha ha. Funny. But it did get me thinking.

So what do men know about women? For those of you who think that I will answer that, well. . . it aint gonna happen. Trust me, I am no expert on this although I do have some thoughts. Most of these thoughts are best left unsaid. I golfed with a couple on Monday and made the mistake of making a snide remark about women’s tees and equality. I was reminded that they are no longer called women’s tees. They are now known as the advanced tees. Goes to show what I know about women. Enough said.

So if I can’t talk about that I will make some comments about men. Perhaps make excuses for us males not knowing more about women. I googled the title of the book as I wanted more information on the author. A few points of interest. First off, the author of my daughter’s book was not the first author to venture there. After some research, and I use that term loosely particularly in light of the subject, I noticed that the other authors had the same information. None. Secondly, and I am serious, the first site I went to listed numerous books that were for sale. It was a “book store” site. The third book in line was “How To Live With A Big Penis”. Perhaps that answers the original question. What do men know. . .? Need I say more? And yes, I realize that that title can be taken in more ways than one.

Last year, enroute to Toronto, I passed the time reading the latest issue of the MacLeans magazine. Came across an interesting point. Apparently men started using protective cups in 1874. It was not till 1974 that they started using helmets. It took us 100 years to realize that our heads are important too. The good news here is that we are making progress. Albeit rather slowly. Who knows what nuggets of knowledge we will pick up in the next 100 years.

So let me close off here before I really get in trouble. I admit it. As a man I am only capable of so much knowledge retention. I am reminded of the closing scene of every Red Green show. You know the one where all the guys are sitting in the basement of the Possum Lodge? They close with the following statement; “I'm a man, but I can change, If I have to, I guess”. That is what I am going with. Now, all I have to do is remember my wife’s birthday. That will be a good first step. Make it a good one.