otter1962crystalball

[otter1962crystalball]

The Here and Now / What’s to Come

June 30th, 2024

Here we are at the end of June and last Pride Day of the month. I’ve talked a lot about my experiences and shared a lot of very personal things. It has been a relatively new thing to open up and being vulnerable. The biggest lesson that I’ve learned is living in the now and working on living my life instead of existing.

Today is the last official day of my working as a permanent position teacher. I’ve been making a list of things that I need to do and things that I want to do. I’ll be careful to not fall into a rut and sit in front of the television too much. Writing this blog has been one of the ways that I keep myself set in a routine so that I don’t fall into the habit of just watching television. 

There is a lot of work to be done around my house so I’ve been trying to do one little thing a day. I’ve painted doors, cleaned up chair and oiled them, garden tasks, cut the lawn once a week and cleaned my barn out. Gym has also been something that helps me feel better as well. I’ve been practicing Japanese for three years now and have been practicing Spanish for the past four months.

I’ve planned two trips so far. I am going to Provincetown for Bear Week in July. At the end of October and the first week of November, I’ll be in Palm Springs for Leather Pride and Gay Pride as well. I’m hoping to take a month trip to Costa Rica. I’ve been thinking of Portugal, the UK to see the viking ruins and eventually Australia and Japan.

My writing is also a big part of what I want to accomplish. I’m continuing my science fiction trilogy and I am contemplating writing my life story - if I can see what exactly how I want to write and what purpose it will serve.

I’ve worked hard to get where I am. I’ve taught for 30 years, been a group fitness leader for 23 years, survived HIV and cancer. I’ve gotten through a relationship with someone who was addicted to crystal meth and had two relationships with narcissists. I’ve done a lot of inner work and I have become more self aware and have learned to take care of myself. It is my hope that one day I will meet a guy who wants to live the life that I am about to experience. If he doesn’t show up, then I still have a great life ahead of me. I am going to enjoy my new life and live in the now.

For Pride, I am celebrating me. Does this sound selfish and vain? No, not at all. I’ve spent a big part of my life just surviving and existing. Now’s the time to start living in the now.

I know this last blog is all over the place, but it felt good to write it all out. 

Carpe diem, everyone. Keep celebrating Pride.

[otter1962crystalball]

Me.

June 29th, 2024

Happy 29th day of Pride Month. Yesterday I wrote about self validation. How exactly am I accepting myself as I am right now? Can I truly find peace?

Today is a particularly difficult day to write in my blog. I think that when I ask myself how I accept myself and about peace, I get a block.

Last night I came home to discover that my hot water heater had sprung a major leak. I shut the hot water input off and climbed into bed. This morning, I got up and contacted a local plumber who texted me back to say sorry he was not available until Tuesday. I’ve never had luck with local businesses for the most part, so I got a bit tiffed. I phoned a cross country company who does emergency pluming and was promised that someone would call. No one did. I called them again and they said the same thing. As I write this, I am at a friend’s place who kindly let me stay the night so I could take a shower and have hot water. Of course, this is the long weekend in Canada as July 1st is Canada Day. The likely hood of having a hot water heater will most likely be Tuesday at this point.

What bothers me the most is how I’ve reacted today. It really pulled me down. It made me realize that I was going to be alone on the long weekend. All my other friends were busy with other things and I wasn’t. Now, I’m writing my blog in my friend’s place and Finn is with me. So, for tonight I am hanging out with friends.

How does all of this apply to me accepting myself? I think that it has to be with me accepting that sometimes things happen that are beyond my control. The cost of the water heater is going to be more than $1,000, which is not something I had budgeted for. So what I did was reflect my feelings about it back on something that was unrelated. I began to feel lonely, sorry for myself and heading down the wrong path. 

I guess maybe that just accepting where I am at this moment is just that. Where I will be tomorrow will become something else. So, I’ll check in with you to let you know where I am. right now, I’m good. I’m able to take a shower and sleep with Finn close by and it’s all good. I’m at peace with myself.

For Pride, I am celebrating just being. During the low times and the high, I am still me and I’m okay with that. Carpe diem, everyone!

[otter1962crystalball]

The Pursuit of Happiness

June 28th, 2024

Happy 28th day if Pride. We’re almost at the end. Happiness what is that for me? How did I lose it? How did I get it back? How can I continue to be happy?

When I was really young, it was easy to be happy. I used to sing, dance, play with my imagination and found joy in everything. How did I lose it as I got older? One single word: Life.

Happiness to me means being in an emotional state showing  feelings of joy, satisfaction, fulfillment and contentment. As a child, I had all of that. Life was so simple and innocent. Life in early school was a happy time for me as well. I enjoyed everything about school and put my heart into everything right up to the end of grade 5. Then, life changed.

In grade 6 and on, I became aware of a world that didn’t seem to like exuberance and out of control joy. I can remember bigger kids putting me in my place and telling me to shut up. Why didn’t everyone else share my joy of life? It was such a difference to feel that I had to shut up and close down. Then the teasing started from other kids making fun of me and calling me fag, faggot, queer and more. It continued on into the end of middle school (grade 8 in Ontario) and continued on into high school all the way to grade 12. The bullying became worse in high school. I’ve already written about that in my blog so I won’t go into detail. Needless to say, I couldn’t find a way to be happy. I often just went through the motions so that my friends wouldn’t see the real me. I was only truly happy when I was on my own, out in the woods, birdwatching. Being in nature made me happy.

When I left home at 17, I though that I had found happiness in going to bars, having sex and staying out late. Looking back, I can tell that it was kind of a false sense of security and that I was pretending that I was happy. I lost the opportunity to be in nature a lot as well.

When HIV came along, life stopped. It wasn’t a matter of living, but surviving with the disease over my head ready to strike at a moment’s notice. Depression became the norm - especially after I split with my first partner. In place of happiness was sadness, rebelliousness, lashing out at others and feeling that all that was left was to give up. Again, I’ve written about this time of my life before in my blogs.

During that time, I began to search for happiness. One day I looked out the window and I saw a goldfinch sitting on the edge of the balcony he was in bright breeding plumage. The sight of a bird like this used to bring me such joy. At that moment, I felt nothing at all and it bothered me a lot, hence the search for happiness.

I talked to many counsellors, physiologists and friend, but the message never came to about how I could be happy again. It seemed that I had to figure it out for myself.

Don’t get me wrong, there were times of happiness, but I didn’t always feel it was like the old happiness that I felt when I was younger. During the beginning of my relationships there was happiness, but I was dependent on the other guy to make me happy.

Forward to the time of my cancer - 2019. After my operation, I had chemotherapy and it was hard. What I did find was that new friendships were happening and there was a joy in having them. I’ve written of Seann before. He awakened a joy of having a great friend. My friend, Gary did the same for me.

When COVID hit, I spent a lot of time working on myself in a self help group. There were some really great tools. You can read about it in my other blog: https://www.tumblr.com/otterenergy1962. It was the isolation and work on myself that transformed me into who I am today. During that time, I found happiness again. There was a joy in a lot of the things that I did because cancer, like HIV, had scared me into a depression.

What was the big change? Self validation instead of outside validation. I was taking care of myself. I was doing things for myself. I was dealing with being alone and didn’t feel lonely much. I had looked inside myself and saw something that I hadn’t seen before: a brave man who has been through so much and has pulled through and succeeded. I took time to speak to my inner child and told him that I would take care of him. I also found his joy and began to feel that again.

Having wonderful friends who are genuine and accept me without trying to change me makes me happy. Taking care of myself makes me happy. Having pets such as Parker, Suki and now Finn along with Karma makes me really happy. There is such a joy in Finn that I marvel at it and can feel it when he is just being happy. The other day I noticed that he loves to jump and run through the clover at the side of the walking path. It made me smile. I’m playing more with him and he loves it as much as I do. The cat is getting a lot more pets as well - which she soaks up. I’ve developed routines that allow me to find a balance between things that I need to do versus the things I want to do.

Am I happy today? Yes. I love my life and each day I wake up and live for me. Now that I am happy, there is hope that there might be someone who will join me. Until that time, I am going to have a blast on my own! I’m celebrating Pride because I have rediscovered happiness. It was there all the time; I just didn’t realize it.

Carpe diem, everyone. Be happy.

[otter1962crystalball]

Growing Older as a Gay Man

June 27th, 2024

Happy Pride on the 27th day of the month. I’m 61 years old, soon to be 62 in December. It’s been on my mind a lot lately about aging, so here we go.

I’m not what I used to be. It’s hard not to judge my body and have body dysmorphia. Combine that with the feeling that I am becoming more and more invisible in my community and add a dash of regret at not having a relationship by now and you get my recipe for disaster… a time for a new outlook… dealing with death…? The questions could go on and on.

What is the best way to deal with a feeling of loss? Is it like losing a partner, a dad, etc.? I look at myself in the mirror and I see some issues on the right side of my body. I have an Achilles Tendon that has healed after being torn in two, but my calf is now smaller than the other. My right heel constantly cracks and needs constant care, along with my Achilles Tendon scar that juts out enough to cause some discomfort. My right foot has had toe nail fungus since my AC was torn - I can’t seem to get rid of it. Finally, my right pectoral muscle has separated from my sternum. It’s an odd injury as most pectoral injuries occur from the shoulder. Just looking at it makes me feel out of kilter. My right shoulder is often sore and feels out of sync with my other one. Granted both collar bones have arthritis spurs that require shots every six months and I’m waiting on surgery. I even had a cyst on my right eyelid that was removed a few weeks ago. A week ago, my right thumb starting clicking - trigger finger. I’ve had it before…

I can’t unsee these things - they are where my eyes go in the rare times that I stand in front of a mirror. Which brings up a few other things - my grey hair, my cheeks aren’t as full as they used to be. This is the time that the body dysmorphia hits me hard. Friends tell me that I am a handsome man and have a great body. Why can’t I always see that? I mean, I don’t think that I am ugly, I just don’t get the handsome part. I’ve kept my body in the best shape that I can - even though my chest isn’t anywhere near what it was - it’s now about 2/5 inches less in size.

This brings up the issue of others seeing it. I hate taking my shirt off in the changeroom at the gym. I worry about potential partners in bed and how they will see my chest - do they think I am a mutant, like I sometimes think I am?

I’ve written about this before in my blog - I even had a guy from Facebook read it and told me that I had no reason to feel what I was feeling. I know he was projecting his own issues onto me, but the last thing that I want is to sound like I am complaining. What I’m really trying to do is to find a solution to the dysmorphia.

There is an operation for my chest, but my doctor has not found someone willing to do it - so far. I know he has even been looking to the USA. My right calf could be a focus in my leg work out. I’d need a Personal Trainer more skilled than I. My toe nails could be removed and allowed to regrow (painful as that sounds) or I continue the nightly regiment of putting a treatment liquid on it. The eyelid cyst is gone and there doesn’t seem be scarring. My right shoulder could use some physiotherapy as well. Botox for my forehead? Forget it! Fillers for my cheeks - Yikes.

One option that I have - mainly around the chest issue is potentially resigning myself to living with it. The other things may or may not change. I am going to write something that I felt when this happened with my chest. I asked myself who would love a man who look like a mutant? I’ve come to realize that I am not a mutant - I’m just a 61 year old gay man who doesn’t fit the norm of the average younger gay man - buff, energetic, good looking and full of vitality. I’m not shallow either to believe that someone would not accept me for my chest injury. If they did, then clearly they are not worth having around.

I see the selfies on Facebook and Instagram of the hot, muscular, sexy guys. Hell, I used to take selfies like that myself. I stopped after my cancer because I did a ton of work on myself and came to realize that I don’t need that external validation. What I do need is self validation - accept myself for who I am at this moment in time and live my life. It makes sense! I’m fairly good at it - I’ve planned my retirement, planned my activities including travel and more. What I have done for the first time in my life is planning travel on my own. Sure, I’m off to Bear Week in Provincetown but I’ll be with my bestie, Seann. I’ll be going to Palm Springs Leather Pride and Gay Pride, but I’ll be with my other bestie, Gary. 

What’s different is my potential trip to Costa Rica. I plan on going by myself, except Finn will go with me. I’ll be gone a month. That’s a big step for me - travelling to somewhere I’ve never been… on my own.

I know I’ve shifted topics here, but they are related. I have this thought that I might be single for the rest of my life. On side of me says, oh well! Go live your life. The other side says, you’ve got to try harder to find a man. One side says to hell with all the injuries - they won’t prevent me from travelling. The other side says it may be the reason why I’ll be single because it is not just hard to find someone in the small town where I live. It’s doubly hard for an introvert who is just learning to get out there. Finally, that other side thinks that the injuries will prevent me from finding someone as well.

Writing this out is helping. If there is anyone reading this, please contact me and let me know your thoughts about body dysmorphia. I think that I can accept the fact that I am now a senior. I just got a discount at the local pharmacy- last Thursday of every month is 20% for anyone older than 55! Over all, I have a very positive outlook on who I am and where I am going. This one little piece of the puzzle is something that I need to work on.

For Pride, I am celebrating getting older! There are some really great bonuses to being my age. There are a few not so great - such as forgetting why I went upstairs the other day… I am also celebrating June 27 as the day that there was Royal Assent on a bill here in Canada that decriminalized homosexual acts. It came into force on August 26,1969. By the way, June 27, 1969 was one day before the Stonewall Riots took place in New York. Also, June 27, 2015  was when  the U.S. Supreme Court gave same-sex couples the right to marry.

Carpe diem, everyone.

[otter1962crystalball]

Fake me vs. Real Me / Old Me vs. New Me / and more...

June 26th, 2024

Happy 26th day of Pride, everyone. I’ve written quit a bit about my life experiences in the past 25 entries of my blog. The road from what I used to be to what I am now has been long and often confusing for me. There are a lot of contrasts that I would like to share.

For most of the first two decades of my life, I fought who I was by pretending and hiding. Feeling that I was different from a very early age taught me that hiding was the best idea. There were no clear signposts that told me which direction to go. I was shown a path that was set out by society: to grow up, go to school, get a job, marry a woman and have children. There was no help with my gender identity or my sexuality. Conversely, there were lots of negative messages about gay people. I took them on and accepted them all as a reason to hide and worry about who I was. I was going to go to hell. I was a degenerate. I was a criminal. I was something disgusting. I was sick. I would be making a choice. The list went on and on.

Religion of course played a big role. As I’ve written before the messages came from the bible and were not to be questioned. It didn’t matter to the young me that those who interpreted the bible to suit their own beliefs or moral standards. I didn’t see these beliefs as hypocritical. There were the ideas that sexual acts gay people performed were sick and dirty - even though everyone else performed them… Hell, I was considered a criminal up until June 27, 1969. That was when Prime Minister Pierre Elliott Trudeau signed it into law. In 1973 being gay was delisted as a mental disorder as well. Those two points in time didn’t help me growing up though. It didn’t stop my parents from commenting negatively on it or stop the bullies in school from teasing me, beating me and abusing me either. It was clear for most of my youth to see myself as a deviant, something sick and that I needed to hide myself from being discovered.

What did I do? I kept to myself as I went into adolescence. I spent a lot of my time lost in science fiction books, television and movies. Any friends I had were not in the know. That’s because I kept quiet, didn’t try to be overly extroverted and tried to make myself as small as possible. I knew I was attracted to other males and I hated it, but I wanted it as well. There were times when I let my personality show and I was quickly beaten down by some bully telling me to shut up or my parents telling me to not be so dramatic after telling them I had a low self esteem. The message was crystal clear: shut up, buck up and close up. The results? Low self esteem, depression, self-hatred, and seeking a way to forget in a bottle of beer or whiskey. I would get angry at the smallest issues and blame others for my anger. I would try to alienate myself - even from my friends. During my adolescence, I had no concept of socializing and dragged that into my adulthood.

I even pretended to have a girlfriend. We connected and she liked hanging out with me - until I didn’t show any signs of wanting sex. I can remember painfully hearing her have sex in the next room at a drinking party as I sat there drunk and wondering what was wrong with me. To this day, I’ve never had sexual relations with a woman.

So when I finally came out, I “accepted” myself. That only meant that I could have tons of sex with men, drink a lot and party. It didn’t mean that I allowed myself to be me, really love myself or accept myself as a good person. I’ve written about my adventures in my other blog entries and how I ended up HIV+.

HIV was just another reason to not accept myself - only to accept that I was no good, a screw up and that I had fulfilled all the things that I had learned in my childhood about going to hell, degenerate, sick, dirty and more. I lost a relationship from it because I couldn’t be a true partner to someone else. Hell, I couldn’t take care of myself for the longest time.

I’ve also written about the things that changed my point of view: becoming a group fitness instructor, getting my first teaching degree, getting on medications that turned my death sentence to a chronic illness. I taught school for thirty years but for a large part of that, I felt that I was a fake.

What pulled me out of all of this? How did I deal with all the negative images of myself? I just plowed through life; having dysfunctional relationships, being codependent and not really loving myself. In the past five years, I’ve done a lot of work on myself. I’ve learned about my inner critic and how he destroys my chances of being happy. I know my inner critic is there to protect me, but he had to know the new boundaries of what is safe and healthy versus supposedly unsafe and unhealthy situations. Friendships have gone from dysfunctional to supportive and caring. I worked through my belief that I was a fake in my work by really looking inward during my Master’s. I began to see the value in the things that I contribute to the world and above all, began to love myself and accept myself.

It’s been a long and hard haul but so worth it. I am now reaping the benefits of a great life. I have retired and can now do the things that I kept putting off such as travelling and writing. I am spending quality time with friends that matter to me and I matter to them. I don’t torture myself when I screw up anymore. I just look at it as a learning experience and let it go. To be honest, there are times when I back pedal but now I know that those times are not permanent. They are just small obstacles put in my path by the universe to keep me on my toes.

For Pride, I am celebrating being me - the imperfect, bumbling, loving, caring, naive, kind of sexy guy. I’m taking a few risks in being more social as well. I’m getting out of my own way! I’ve planned a trip to Bear Week in Provincetown in July and Palm Springs Pride in October. I’m looking at travelling to Costa Rica, Portugal, Japan and Australia (and more). I’m thinking of writing a book about my life as well (I have to tell my inner critic to shut up about that one…) and continue working on my science fiction trilogy.

Carpe diem, everyone.

[otter1962crystalball]

Face It or Not: Out of the Pan into the Fire

June 25th, 2024 

Happy 25th day of Pride Month! Wow! The month of June is almost already behind us. Today, I was thinking about the end of things and what happens when I don’t deal with it.

Soon after my divorce, a man whom I had had contact with found out that I was divorced. I call him Allan. He never really liked John and we had stopped talking because John pissed him off. It turned out that John had asked Allan if he could move in with him - while still married to me. I found this out when Allan contacted me and told me how sorry I was to have gone through that nightmare with John.

The situation led me to taking a vacation to Las Vegas to hang out with Allan. We really clicked and I went home feeling like the divorce had never happened. Allan then booked a flight to visit me and we started a relationship. I felt like I was on cloud nine and that all the darkness of the John relationship was gone.

Then, in September 2017, I was on a machine at the local gym and it collapses on my leg and tore my right Achilles Tendon in half. I ended up driving (on a damaged leg) to the local clinic where I was told that it was torn and that I would need a cast. So, an ambulance was called and I was driven to downtown Halifax where I had a cast put on - very late at night. During that time, I had texted Allan and then my phone died. I ended up getting a message from him via the ward’s nurse. I felt so grateful that Allan would do that. He immediately flew to Halifax and looked after me for almost a month. He was there during the wait time and then the operation itself.

I was feeling very depressed about not being able to be mobile and Allan’s presence cheered me. He accompanied me to physiotherapy (which I was told took an entire year). I was to be in a boot for at least two months and have physiotherapy twice a week for a while and then one per week afterwards. For that month, Allan drove me everywhere, helped out with the house and we made things work.

In the past few blog entries, I talked about John’s red flags. With Allan, I felt there were none and this made me very happy - until one day something happened. Allan got upset because he felt that I didn’t appreciate his help. I told him that that wasn’t true and that I’d been in pain and hadn’t told him enough that I really appreciated him. I did, but he was still angry, so I asked if he needed a break and offered to get him a hotel room until his flight. He then literally accused me of trying to get rid of him. I assured him that wasn’t the case. He stayed for the rest of the month and then flew home.

The boot came off and I was able to go to work after two months off. It was a bit of an adjustment as I had to use a knee scooter to get around for a while. By Christmas, I was wearing the boot less. I flew to Las Vegas for Christmas and we had an amazing time. We continued back and forth for over two years. We took a trip to Hawaii together during a trip to Las Vegas, which was amazing as it was my first time. We later planned a trip to Thailand via Hawaii. It turned out to be a dream vacation for me despite a bit of a situation with my house. I had it rented out as an Airbnb and the cleaner quit while I was in Las Vegas before we left. I was really upset and wondered if I should fly back to solve the problem. Allan flew off the handle telling me that I wasn’t thinking about him at all. I apologized and things went on. Again, I ignored what was going on.

Later that year during a visit to Nova Scotia, we celebrated Hallowe’en together. While I was in the bathroom, Allan went through my phone and found a picture that I had sent to a friend in Australia. He got angry with me and said that I had betrayed his trust. I realized that I had made a mistake and I allowed him to go through my phone, computer and all my hard drives. He ended up deleting every picture of John that existed. I just let him do it. He also asked me to ditch any of my friends that might want to sleep with me. I followed his advice.

The next trip to Las Vegas was that Christmas in 2018. I took a lot of my family Christmas ornaments with me because he wanted to have a family tradition Christmas. It was a fun time including a birthday cake for me. He also had a surprise for me and announced a two day trip and that I was to guess where we were going.  The first idea came to me was Fort Lauderdale. Allan turned to me and told me that I was disgusting - the only reason I wanted to go there was to have sex with a friend there. I told him that wasn’t true, but he insisted that I ditch that friendship or else. I told him no problem and we flew to San Francisco for two nights. The first night we were there, in the hotel room Allan picked up his sunglasses, turned to me and yelled that I was toxic to him. He squeezed his hands so hard that he broke his sunglasses and cut his palms. I can remember his face as he gritted his teeth and tossed the glasses into the garbage. I was shocked, so I called the last two friends that I still had in my list and said goodbye. That seemed to be fine with Allan and we went on with the trip.

When we returned, it was close to New Years and we had tickets to see Celine Dion. It was an amazing concert. We took pictures of ourselves by the promotional billboard in the theatre. I flew back that New Years day. On Facebook, there was a now and then post. I placed a picture of me in 2008 and the one of me in front of the Celine Dion billboard. Allan didn’t answer his phone that evening. The next day I called him and he screamed at me that I had hurt him horribly. After I hang up, I discovered that he had changed his Facebook profile to a black picture with candles. I texted him to ask if we could talk and he texted back that he wanted nothing to do with me because I had been unfaithful for showing that picture to my friend and that I hadn’t gotten rid of all my friends.

There I was, just into 2019 and again I was single. I was mystified as to why Allan did this and actually thought of going to Las Vegas, but one of Allan’s friends told me know when I suggest it. That was the last time I heard from Allan until two months three months later when I received a package in the mail. The package had a note about how much I had hurt him and that if I wanted any of my stuff that I had left in his condo, I would have to pay back all the money for gifts, trips, etc or I wouldn’t get my stuff back. My eyes were opened and I realized what was happening. I took the package and burned it. I said goodbye to my things in his condo - including my family Christmas ornaments - which were important to me as memorabilia. I never heard from Allan again.

I never had time to process the break up because something else happened suddenly in my life - I was diagnosed with colon cancer. When we see the light and come to understand what we’ve been doing that is not genuine, it’s a breakthrough. In that time, I wasn’t being true to myself.  It took the cancer and chemo along with some internal work to help me see that. If you are interested, you can check out my cancer blog at https://www.tumblr.com/otter1962.

What I learned about myself helped me see that I hadn’t dealt with the divorce from John, jumped into a relationship too soon, discovered that Allan was a worse narcissist than John and that cancer was my wake up call.

For Pride, I am celebrating the trials we sometimes have to go through before we see the light. I came to understand that I had to take care of myself, love myself and do the work before I could even think about another relationship. I am also celebrating the idea that there is a big difference between being alone and lonely, which I’ve written about in a blog entry.

Carpe diem, everyone! Live your life genuinely as yourself and be happy with that. Don’t let others dictate how your life should be lived!

[otter1962crystalball]

Experiencing Narcissism 101 - Part 3

June 24th, 2024

Here we are nearing the end of Pride Month. I’ve challenged myself to write everyday and I’ve found it very useful in examining my past and realizing that I am actually very resilient. Yesterday I wrote about events leading up to the point of coming back from a trip with John. Today, the story continues.

I put my plan into action and began taking steroids above and beyond what I needed for Testosterone Replacement Therapy. I was taking injections because my testosterone was low due to my HIV medications. I supplemented with street testosterone as did John. In the course of my doing so, I put on more than 25 pounds and ended up at 250 pounds at my maximum. I continued abusing them up until 2013 when I moved to Nova Scotia with John.

John convinced me that I should be reducing the amount of time that I worked. At that time, I was a full-time teacher, a group fitness leader at a community centre and also a mentor for a master’s program at a university. The only real solution he suggested was to move from British Columbia to Nova Scotia. The reason was due to other cities didn’t seem inviting for either of us. I did suggest Montreal, but John didn’t speak French and thought it wasn’t a good idea. That summer, we jumped on a plane and took a quick trip to Nova Scotia. We explored a place called Annapolis Valley, which is fertile area of the province. We even looked at homes, but didn’t find anything that we liked. We returned home and made our decision.

We decided we would move to Windsor, Nova Scotia in October 2013. We also got married as it seemed the right thing to do. I resigned from the school board and put the house up for sale. It sold while we were enroute. We climbed into my truck with two dogs and a cat, travelling across Canada to Nova Scotia. During the trip, we argued a lot. The shouting continued and I decided that it was just part of my new life and bit my tongue. John did berate me for being quiet, which in my mind was better than screaming back at him. We found an apartment - literally on the fly - as we went across Canada. The hardest part was finding a rental unit that accepted dogs.

We lucked out and stayed in a place in Windsor until early 2015 when we found a house on the South Shore - which later became known as Otter Cottage. During the time in Nova Scotia, John had problems finding a job. I was accepted as a substitute and started working. He didn’t and that left him open to do other things. In fact, I caught him cheating on me several times. So, we negotiated an open relationship where we would explore together to fulfill everyone’s needs.

During our time there in Windsor, I got a phone call from my doctor. She told me to go to the hospital immediately because my bloodwork indicated that I had had a heart attack. We went to emergency immediately and I discovered that I had an enlarged heart due to the large amount of steroids. I spent four days in the hospital while they did tests. John visited everyday, but complained constantly about having to drive into the city. With supervision, I weaned myself off the steroids and reduced my testosterone to the appropriate level and quit the street steroids. It was clear that I had almost killed myself. I began kicking myself for having been so stupid to abuse steroids that much to satisfy the wishes of another person.

Once into Otter Cottage, I got a job in the Halifax and ended up with a permanent position teaching French Immersion. John then decided to become a real estate agent. So, I paid for his education. During the time of moving to the South Shore, our relationship was really strained. John was constantly getting angry at just about everyone - of course, including me. He constantly seemed frustrated and I did everything I could including buying antiques for him and giving him a room to decorate. That didn’t help and we argued constantly. Several times, I told him that I had had enough. Suddenly, John would turn back to a charmer and everything was great - for a few short weeks or month.

John finished his real estate school and managed to sell at least three properties, using a car that I had bought for him. At the same time, I discovered that he was still cheating on me. In late 2016, John mentioned that his former employer in Montreal had suggested offering him a job. I had had enough of all the nonsense. When I heard that, I told John that I wanted him to take the job and be out of the house by next week. So, he packed the car with everything he could and then moved everything he thought belonged to him into the antique room he had decorated. He went to Montreal and suddenly I felt a real relief - until the divorce proceedings started.

In the six years we were together, John paid rent three months in the time we were in my house in Vancouver. He bought groceries maybe twice. In Nova Scotia, he paid for nothing. I didn’t see any of the profits from the sales of the properties he had sold. I got a lawyer and proceeded with the divorce. We had to live apart for at least a year before we could legally divorce. That year was a year from hell for me.

John, now in Montreal, would contact me and screamed at me for not moving the stuff he wanted to Montreal. I told him that the lawyer told me to do that until we had settled the divorce.  His request was half of everything. I provided all my receipts for everything, showing that John had paid little. He never paid for heating, mortgage payments, gym fees, and much more. During that time, John began a classic narcissistic pattern - he tried to show me how he was a victim. He sent me pictures of him in the hospital. He sent me pictures of his empty fridge. He called me constantly asking for money. I had to continue to say no. He turned several local friends against me saying I was withholding his belongings. I told those local friends that they didn’t know what was really going on. Needless to say, I didn’t continue those friendships.

The calls continued along with emails, texts until I had to block him. He even called my school during a lesson and interrupted. He called me at the gym as well, asking an attendant to find me. I put a stop to all of that. At the end of the year apart, I made him an offer and let him know that he would get nothing more. He begrudgingly accepted it and immediately demanded his things sent. I had packed them into a pod as I was sick of seeing the pile of things in the living room. In typical fashion, he demanded that I allow one of his friends to sit and watch the pod be repacked so that his belongings would be safe. Ironically, the movers told me that I had done an amazing job and that repacking wasn’t necessary! At this point, I didn’t care; he had to pay for the moving costs.

Even after the papers were signed and we were officially divorced he continued to harass me with phone calls and texts on anonymous lines. I was so tired of it that I went to the local RCMP and lodged a complaint and asked the calls, texts and emails stop. The Sûreté du Québec (the provincial police in Quebec) paid him a visit and told him that if he contacted me again, he would be arrested. That was the last time I ever heard from him. In that year and a half, he contacted me more than 668 times by various methods.

In 2018 I was officially free of John. Otter Cottage was in my name, the car payments for John’s car were now his responsibility and I began my new life as a divorced gay man. As a side note, that fall as I was cleaning the gardens, I found a pile of broken mugs, coasters and John’s medication all thrown into the bushes. It seemed that whenever he was angry, he would throw things off the verandah - just like when he used to go out and scream at the top of his lungs at the people he hated.

So what was it like to live with a narcissist? Looking at the 9 points of Special Me, I saw countless examples of all 9 points and more from him. He always though he was the most important person at all times. He felt entitled to everything without having to work for it. He was exploitative, arrogant, lacked empathy and always showed off so that others could admire him. He also was easily able to play the victim and everything that he did was turned back on my so that it was all my fault. Anyone who didn’t agree with him immediately became the enemy - me included.

I saw a counsellor and learned to deal with the aftermath of living six years with John. The counsellor suggested I buy a book called “Stop Walking on Eggshells: Taking Your Life Back When Someone You Care About Has Borderline Personality Disorder.” All what was discussed in the book, I found in John. The only thing the book didn’t help me with was getting along with him and thankfully I never wanted to do so. In the end, I believe he was also obsessive compulsive as well.

During my counselling time, I came to acknowledge my part in those six years. I had been codependent and allowed him to do all of those things. I also discovered that I had to learn to love myself, always take care of myself first before helping others and learning how a narcissist latches onto a caregiver such as myself. I forgave myself for almost killing myself on steroids to please John. I watched my health and have not abused them since.

At that point, I was really sure that I knew what the signs were and vowed to never get involved with a narcissist. Did I succeed? I’ll leave that to tomorrow’s blog… For Pride, I am celebrating my inner self and my self love. Now that I have worked on myself, someone like John would never be able to pry their way into my life. 

Carpe diem, everyone.

[otter1962crystalball]

Experiencing Narcissism 101 - Part 2

June 23, 2024

Happy 23rd day of Pride, everyone! I am continuing yesterday’s blog about John and discovering that he was a narcissist and severe one at that. I wrote about the red flags that I ignored - the yelling at me and him not dealing with the break up between him and his ex partner. For this blog, I am going to list the signs of a narcissist. 

SPECIAL ME 

Sense of self-importance

Preoccupation with power, beauty, or success 

Entitled

Can only be around people who are important or special

Interpersonally exploitative for their own gain

Arrogant

Lack empathy

Must be admired

Envious of others or believe that others are envious of them

After the road trip, I discovered another red flag. One day, my ex partner, Jeff, called me. I wrote about him on June 14th, 2024 called Love, Depression and Letting Go. We had reconnected after the Dean issue and we both found that each of us had moved on well enough and started a friendship. Anyways, Jeff told me out of the blue that my new boyfriend, John, had a really nice penis. I was shocked. It turns out that John had taken his picture (in my guest bedroom) posing nude for a website called dudesnude.com. I went on and found it was true. I confronted John and told him that it wasn’t cool to do that in someone else’s home and that we were in a new relationship. For once, John didn’t argue with me about it and took it down. When I say arguing, it happened regularly. Again, I ignored this red flag because I felt it was better to just let him blow off steam and then it would all calm down and he would forget that he was angry. All you have to do is look at the list above to see that he was a narcissist!

That summer in 2011, we went on a cruise to the Baltic. John was part of a company that had professional development courses on cruise ships. The trip was filled with amazing things to see and do. John was tired each night so we often ate and retired early. When the trip was over and we arrived back in Copenhagen, we stayed in a rented room. We went out to a gay oriented restaurant/bar and had a drink. While sitting at the table, John suddenly asked me if I saw a muscular guy at the other table. I said yes and he said, “That’s the kind of partner I want.” I was shocked and didn’t know what to say. Later, back in the room, we were lying in bed and he told me that we should find someone experienced that could show me the ropes on how to “work him over.” This was a term for light bondage that John liked to partake in which included a lot of nip play. Again, was shocked and didn’t know what to say. Later that same night in bed, he nonchalantly told me that his next partner was going to be a black man. For the third time that night, I was shocked. What in the hell did he see in me?

The next day, we flew to London to visit a friend for five days before we left for home. During the trip, I was really quiet and distant. I was really processing what was going on. When we were on our flight back to Vancouver, I wrote a journal about the pros and cons of staying with John. I was fairly sure that I wanted to break up with him. During the flight, I made the decision: I would bulk myself up so that I would be as muscular as that man in the club in Copenhagen. I decided that I would stay with John because my pact with myself still stood clearly as my goal. Again, I ignored the red flags. During the trip, he exhibited all of the criteria above and still I ignored the situation!

When we arrived, Terry who was the man who introduced us, was looking after the house. I mistakenly told Terry to put the key through the mail slot when he left. Too late, we realized that we didn’t have a key to get in as John had left his at the house! I texted Terry and laid into him with some really strong language. I texted Terry and told him sorry about John’s behaviour.

I’m going to stop the story at this point because I want to write about my role in this situation. I hadn’t figured out that John was a narcissist. I hadn’t also considered that I was co-dependent and allowed him to do all of these things. All I could see was that I loved the man and would do just about anything to keep the relationship going and that everything would work out in the end. It wasn’t until years later, during the pandemic when I did some internal work and realized my role in the relationship. It helped me let go years of anger that faded to nothing more than pity for someone who will never be able to acknowledge their dysfunction.

For Pride, I am celebrating how I’ve come to know myself inside and out. I will always have more work to do, but the path has never been clearer. Tomorrow, I will continue the story.

Carpe diem, everyone. Happy Pride!

[otter1962crystalball]

Experiencing Narcissism 101 - Part 1

June 22, 2024

“Nobody can be kinder than the narcissist while you react to life on his terms.” — Elizabeth Bowen

Today is my 22nd entry into my Pride Blog. I searched through my three blogs and realized that I never spent anytime discussing about a narcissist that got his claws into me. 

The time between the events with Dean and my next relationship were spent exploring and regathering myself. After all the relationships that came to mind, I started to feel like I was the failure in the relationship department. I was looking through the lens of a pessimist and thinking that I was what caused all the breakups. What I was not noticing was that a relationship takes two and that the other man was equally responsible for his actions. So, in 2010, I began thinking about relationships and whether I was again ready. I had written a short video script of my dating experiences, but to this day I’ve not done anything with it.

I was on Facebook one day and looking at a friend’s profile and all of his friends. I’ll call this man “Terry.” Terry had a lot of extremely handsome men and many of them seemed to be my type. I called Terry and said to him that he had a ton of beautiful men on his friends list and that there much be a man on there who might be interested in me. Terry came back immediately with someone. He said he was handsome, interesting and single. He sent me a picture of this man, whom I will call, “John.”

John was very handsome and I had some doubts whether he would be interested in me. Terry sent my picture to John and he wanted to meet me. So, I called him and we talked for two hours on the phone. We set up a time, afterwards to go out to a restaurant that week. We met, ate and then I took him to his apartment. When we got there, he sat me down and read me Dorothy Parker poetry because I had said that I was interested in poetry. I can remember he was lounging behind me as he held me and read to me. I was absolutely in heaven!

We kissed a few times and then I had to get home because I had to work the next day. We set up a time to meet again and I found out that he was still living with his ex partner in that apartment. He was rather sad about it, but I got the impression that he was moving on. He told me that he would have to move soon.

That weekend, we went to a party for bears in Vancouver called Bearaccuda. I was dressed in a pair of leather pants that John had lent me. I found out later that they belonged to his ex-partner. At the dance, I bent down to pick up a toonie I had dropped at the bar and the pants split totally and my ass was exposed. We didn’t care and kept on dancing.

We spent quite a few days together and I often listen to him being upset, angry, sad and more about his partner. I just listened and tried to console him the best that I could. The day he had to move, I told him he could put his stuff in my basement until he got settled in his new apartment that he would be sharing with a friend. I think John spent one night at his apartment. The rest of the time he was at my place.

I was getting more and more enthralled with what John was doing. He was such a charmer and I found myself falling for him. By the time Christmas rolled around, he was living in my house. I had booked a flight home to see my parents before I met John, so I had to go alone. John stayed behind and looked after the animals and my house. He even moved furniture around and made himself at home.

At this point, I’d like to acknowledge a few red flags here. One is clear - he was having to deal with the loss of his partner and needed time to process the situation. That was clear by his varied reactions when he talked about his ex partner. I ignored it because I had already fallen in love with him. The charming was also a red flag but wasn’t clear to me at the time. It turns out that narcissists are real charmers in the beginning but are notorious for changing when things settle in on a life together.

John and I decided to take March break by driving down the Pacific Coast to see the sites and then go to Las Vegas to see some friends of John’s. It was during that trip that John began yelling at me. Almost every night he told me to fuck off and would scream at me. I decided to scream back. Again, there was a red flag. I ignored it because I had made a pact with myself to make this relationship my last and make it continue even if it killed me. It could have… but that is for another day’s blog…

For Pride, I am celebrating believing in myself. When I was involved with John, I lost myself and you will see in the next few blogs how this happened. If you’ve experienced life with a narcissist, you will know what I went through and the signs.

Carpe diem. Happy Pride, everyone.  

[otter1962crystalball]

If I Could Talk to My Younger Self

June 21, 2024

Happy Summer Solstice and 21st day of Pride. What if I could go back in time and talk to my younger self? What would I say? What time period would I go? What situations need addressing? I think that we are the sum of all of our experiences and I know that all the things that happened, good or bad, made me who I am. If I had a role model to follow, maybe things would have been easier. I’ve heard quite a few men talk about not having a role model as a gay man or child. Rick Clemons’ Over 40 Gay Men Gay Talk is a good example. What if I’d had a role model? What would that role model say? So for today, I’m going to visit a number of times in my past and tell my younger self the he is on the right path and let him know how to deal with the pain of rejection, the horrors of being bullied, the fear of the unknown and more. Maybe that would have made my life a little easier. So, here goes…

The first time I would go back would be when I was five and tell him that whenever he feels different that he is not alone.  As an adult, I know he was feeling like he was the only one that was made that way. I’d tell him that he is not a mistake and that God will not wipe his name out of his book (See my Pride and Spirituality blog on June 2, 2024).

I would also let him know that there will be tough times ahead, but he will be strong and that he must not feel inferior or less than anyone else. He will also know that he will come to accept himself as he is and not feel less of a human being. As I reflect I know that there are so many gay men who have grown up pretending to be something other than what they really were. If the younger Grant could hear that he is not alone and not a mistake, he might have an opportunity to develop a much stronger sense of self esteem and not lose that zest for life that he had at that time.

The second time I would go back to is when I was first bullied by the kids at school. The day that he got berated in the changeroom is when I would pull him aside (See my Bullying entry on June 5th). I would tell him to not be afraid to be different and that others may not always accept that. I’ll let him know that in time, more and more people will be allies and those bullies are just insecure children who seek out others they perceive as weak and different. I’d mention that one day he will be able to celebrate the fact that he is gay.

The third time I would visit myself is when I was waiting for a bus as I left for Calgary against my parents’ wishes (See my Pride Blog Entry Why Did God Make Them That way). I would tell him that again, he wasn’t alone. I would tell him that he needed to do what he was doing to become the man he was supposed to. He would have to accept himself before expecting anyone else to accept him.

The fourth time would be the day I found out that I was HIV+. I would take him to a park and sit with him. I would tell him that he would get through this and that it wasn’t a death sentence. I would let him know that there would be a lot of stigma around this syndrome. I would tell him that it wasn’t because he deserved it or that he was a bad person (See my Pride Blog Entry “White Picket Fence and All! - Part 2"). I would mention that he is and always will be a strong person who can get through difficult times - as long as he believes in himself.

The fifth time would be when I was standing at the back window worrying that Dean might blow up my house making crystal meth (Blog called “Facing Addiction). I would tell him that the world might look bleak at the moment, but he will get through this with courage and grace. It will be difficult and there may be times when he wants to give up and that he should never, ever give up. I would say that he has so much to live for and will accomplish wonderful things.

The sixth time would be when I was struggling with codependency with my ex-husband or the next boyfriend who was also a narcissist like my ex-husband. I’ve just realized that I’ve not written about this so I will cover it tomorrow in my blog. 

I think that is the last time I would want to visit. I didn’t include my bout with cancer because, while it was difficult, I had a lot of tools that I earned in all the other situations that could help me with my diagnosis.

As I look back on my life, I see myself taking steps forward and some backward. What is promising is that I am moving ahead more than behind. I think this is the answer to my questions at the beginning of this blog. I am a sum of my experiences and I am stronger for it. 

For Pride, I am celebrating getting through life without a role model. It’s my hope that maybe there is a young gay man somewhere who could benefit from an older gay man’s experiences and build hope for their future lives.

Carpe diem. Happy Pride.

[otter1962crystalball]

Opening Up a Can of Worms, or Taking the Path Less Travelled

June 20th, 2024

Happy 20th day of Pride, everyone. For the past five days I’ve been writing about a time in my life that was both wonderful and tragic during the course of around six years. There are many other stories that I could cover but want to change course. There is the six year relationship with my narcissistic ex-husband, the equally narcissistic follow up relationship and finally my bout with cancer in 2019. I’ve written quite a bit about those times in my other two blogs:

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/otter1962 (my cancer blog)

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/otterenergy1962 (the raising my energetic attraction blog)

What is coming to mind today is how my life has changed due to the HIV, Dean’s addiction, the narcissists and finally the cancer. The big question is, “What would I have been like without these events?” I believe the expression is “Opening a Can of Worms.”

The Collins Dictionary says, “If you say that someone is opening a can of worms, you are warning them that they are planning to do or talk about something which is much more complicated, unpleasant or difficult than they realize and which might be better left alone.” This is definitely complicated, unpleasant and difficult, but I think it might be interesting to write about it.

One big question is what my life would have been like. Like all situations, there is good and bad in everything. Along the path of my life, there are many places where the road might have forked in another direction. Examples would be running away from home, seroconversion, meeting any of my partners, etc. I became a teacher because I wanted to teach before I passed away from AIDS. I wouldn’t have learned French if I hadn’t moved to Chicoutimi because I wanted to be with Eddy. Would my career have been different? The thoughts are like a can of worms!

One thing that I know for sure is that depression has been a regular companion. 

Being bullied in school 

Becoming HIV+ was a major period of depression. 

The addiction period with Dean

My marriage to my ex-husband that was full of narcissistic behaviour and my subsequent codependency

My cancer diagnosis and facing it alone for the most part.

One this is sure and that is I’ve learned a lot of managing techniques that I can use to help alleviate the situation. One of the biggest has been sharing with close friends and talking it through with them. Another has been losing the shame for having to go see a counsellor. I’ve seen social workers and psychologists and they’ve all been very helpful.

There were parts of my life where I was unsure of the future. I had no clue where it was going. At this point in my life, it has done a 180 degree turn. I am now very certain of what I want and plan to do with my life. I didn’t travel much in my earlier times because there were always something to deal with in my life that supposedly prevented me. I know that wasn’t always true, but nonetheless that is where I was at in those times.

I’ve learned through all of this that I’ve come to understand the difference between being lonely and alone. I always needed to have someone around me in order to feel safe. Now, I am very happy being on my own, but I am open to meeting a guy, should the occasion arise. I’ve also determined that travelling by myself won’t be a big deal either. I was always a bit afraid to travel on my own.

One thing that I often ponder is that before my HIV, I was a rather self and self-absorbed person. I really only cared about getting laid and the conquest of finding sex. If I hadn’t seroconverted, I am quite sure that I would have remained selfish. For that reason, I am glad that I’ve learned about empathy and self compassion.  All those hard relationships taught me about myself and what it is that I need and want in a relationship - with myself and others.

I think that my travel towards being authentic has been another big path to follow. At the age of 61, I feel the most in touch with who I am and what I want in life. I’m meeting more people who are equally authentic and I welcome that. I still meet people who are not, but at least now I have the tools to avoid getting pulled into their whirlwinds. 

Retirement is a big step and as I begin this new voyage, I will probably encounter obstacles but I’m not worried. All of my learning experience has given me ways of dealing with these obstacles.

For Pride, I am celebrating authenticity. I’m working on it for myself, seeking it in others and above all, finding it in others. As I close this blog entry, I feel there is still so much more to write about on this subject. I may very well take the time to explore it more.

Carpe diem and happy Pride.

[otter1962crystalball]

The English Patient (Kind of)… or The Little Red Truck

June 19th, 2024

Happy Pride, everyone. Today is the 19th of June and my 19th blog for Pride Month. After I posted yesterday, I realized that I had forgotten a major point in that time. During my stay in the hospital, I got a phone call from my mortgage specialist and he told me that he could give me a mortgage. He had rerun the numbers and said I was able to carry the mortgage on my own. That piece of news helped me get on with my life. It really gave me hope.

When I left the hospital, I felt this incredible sense of freedom. Being locked up in a small area for three weeks was difficult. Bill picked me in my car and took me home. There I was united with my dogs and cats. I told Bill that I wanted to do something spontaneous, so we went to the swimming pool in the neighbourhood. It had three diving towers and we were allowed as swimmers to jump off them. I had never jumped off the highest one so we made plans and went. Needless to say, it was scary, but I finally jumped from the highest tower.

During this time, Dean was still in the basement, but was due to move out at the end of that month. Things had been settled with the lawyers and my mortgage was refinanced under my name only, which was a major relief. To help me deal with the stress I did a 12 step program for those who have dealt or are dealing with addicts through Nar-Anon. Bill went as well from but also went to meetings for former users. Those meetings really did help - giving me a place to talk and to listen to others’ stories.

The day when Dean would leave finally arrived. He had three people helping him move his stuff out of the basement into two pods.  I went outside to check with Dean about my stuff that remained in the basement. Dean wouldn’t talk to me, but one of his friends almost came at me. Bill was watching from the back stairs to the upper part of my house. He told me to get up there quickly. When I got up there, he said the guy was spun out on drugs and likely carrying a weapon. It was safer to just let Dean take everything and not risk my life. In the end, the two pods were filled and they left. Dean left the keys in my mailbox. It turned out that most of my tools were gone, but my Christmas ornaments, washer and dryer were still there. I considered myself lucky.

During all of this time, Bill and I starting what I guess one would call dating. Bill had taken care of me during my stay at the hospital and then the month afterwards in my place. Looking back, I now realize that I was feeling emotions due to Bill taking care of me - like in the movie. After the month, Bill went back to his apartment but we kept seeing each other. After about six months, cracks appeared in the armour of our relationship. 

Bill had some major issues due to his former addiction. Those issues often popped up when we were together and I came to realize that it wasn’t working and basically told him that we needed call it quits. Bill didn’t take it well and got quite angry and he showed his true colours to me. I knew that I had made the right decision. When he was gone, I felt another sense of freedom because I was now totally in control of my life and where I wanted it to go.

Dean on the other hand, would come the first day of every month to pick up his cheque for alimony. He always came alone and always seemed disjointed and out of sorts. One time he brought a sketch book to show me. It was as if nothing was wrong between us. He showed his drawings and I told him they were great. There were a couple I thought were of me, but when asked, all the drawings were him and that he drew them while on heroin. He was so self-absorbed that he didn’t know life was going on around him.

I can remember one time that kind of hit me with a ton of sadness. He came one day to pick up his cheque and handed me a red toy truck. The wheels had fallen off, but he said that they could be put back on. He said that maybe I could give it to a classroom at school. I asked him where he got it and he told me that he and a friend had a shopping cart and they went through dumpsters for cans, bottles and other things. I felt this great sense of pity for Dean. The little red truck represented what was broken in my former life with Dean.  There was no real way out for Dean. The addiction had its claws into him and would not let go.

After that, I decided that I didn’t want Dean to come around anymore. I gave him the last three cheques, but post-dated two of them. I ended up getting a call from a loan company saying that two of my cheques had bounced and that I owed them money. I told them that Dean had obviously changed the dates and when I saw them, they had indeed been changed. My lawyer told them to back oof and it was no longer my problem.

Dean came to my door one last time. It turns out all the money was gone and he wanted help. He said that he and his friend had been kicked out of where they were staying. I remembered something Bill had said about enabling addicts and told Dean to leave and never come back or I would call the police. Thankfully, he never did come back.

The last time I saw Dean, I saw him pushing a shopping cart in the Downtown Eastside of Vancouver. It is known for its homeless and addicts. That area was rather scary as I sometimes took that route to get home. People were often shooting up in the open and the police were doing nothing - not even in front of their department nearby.

One day, I had an appointment with my family doctor. I asked him if he had seen Dean later and he said that Dean had probably died of an overdose somewhere in the Downtown Eastside. It was really sad for me because I remember the Dean I fell in love with and also the monster that I had to force out of my home. That part of my life had finally come to a close. To this day, I still have feelings for the old Dean. I loved him very dearly.

I had gone through one of  the darkest times of my life. In fact, my counsellor said that I was suffering from PTSD from the trauma. It took me almost a year to feel like I was better and the bad dreams finally stopped. Even to this day, I sometimes have to be aware of how the PTSD can pop back into my life.

For Pride, I am celebrating self love and believing in ourselves. I got through all of that and came to understand that I was stronger for having gone through it and dealing with it.

I hope that you give yourself credit for your beliefs and your self love. 

Carpe diem and happy Pride.

[otter1962crystalball]

The House of Lost Souls

June 18, 2024

Yesterday I wrote that I reluctantly got into the ambulance. It took me to the hospital in downtown Vancouver. The ambulance drivers accompanied me into emergency while I was checked in. I sat there for quite a while and the ambulance drivers weren’t paying much attention. An attendant or nurse (I don’t recall) came up to me and strangely said that I was free to go. I shrugged my shoulders and got up to leave. As I passed by the ambulance drivers, I turned to them and said that the hospital was letting me go and I began to head for the door. There was a shout from the check-in desk and the ambulance drivers stood and ran to me and dragged me back to my seat. It turned out that the check desk had almost let the wrong person go!

While I was sitting and waiting, I pulled my phone out and called this guy that I knew. We had been out on a couple of dates before all of this happened. That may be a story for later… Anyway, I’ll call him “Bill.”  I told him what was happening and asked if he would go to the house and look after my pets. Luckily, he had a key as he had visited a few times and I entrusted him to keep it. The few times he was there with me, he walked me through dealing with what had been going on downstairs. Bill was a recovering crack and cocaine addict and was attuned into what was going on in my life. Bill said he would stay there until I was able to come home. So you understand, Dean was still in my basement at that time and neither had an inkling nor a care where I was.

I was finally checked in and I sat in a hospital room for what seemed hours. I was still there when the night shift came on. By that time I was exhausted and not definitely not thinking sanely. I got up from my little room and went into the bathroom and used it. Then on a whim, I locked the door and sat in the corner on the floor. The poor nurse outside kept gently knocking on the door and asking if I were okay and wondered if I would open the door. He must have done that for twenty minutes until someone came with a key and took me back to my room. As I am writing this, I perceive where my mind was at that time and I cringe; I really was not right in my mind and that is hard to admit.

A while later, a doctor came to my room and said that I was being transferred to another hospital with a ward better suited to help me. So, into another abundance I went and was driven to the other hospital. By the time I was placed in my room, I was exhausted and totally disoriented. A nurse came in and said that she had some pills for me. She didn’t say what they were for. I refused. I think it was because I didn’t know what they were going to give me. I continued to refuse. She quietly left and came back with two security guards and showed me a very large syringe with a very large needle. She made it quite clear that the two men would hold me down and she would shove the needle into my butt cheek. I can remember grimacing and finally telling the nurse that I would take the pills - as long as they got me a pair of pants so that my butt wasn’t hanging out the back of the one I had come in from the other hospital. I guess I was trying to hang onto some sort of dignity - I no longer had my clothes, wallet and phone. She came back with the hospital pants and I took the pills as the two security guards stood over me. I slept until the morning nurse came into the room to wake me up. It turned out I had a roommate. 

So, there I was - in a psych ward because I had threatened suicide. My roommate was there because he had gone bonkers working too much and was put into the ward. He and I chatted and I found out he was from India and had only been in Vancouver for a short while. His family had committed him to the ward. He played Indian music a lot and I started requesting some of them because they were very beautiful. If you are wondering how I feel right now as I am write this… I keep closing my eyes in embarrassment. What I see on the back of my eyelids is the room where I stayed, my roommate and the myriad of other strange and lost people in the ward. For the first few days I was tranquillized so much that I didn’t really feel anything. The attending doctor gave me some sort of medication that he said would settle my brain down. What it did to me was like electricity coursing through my head. It felt really bizarre. When I told the doctor what I was experiencing, he sat there and simply said, “You’re a hypochondriac.” He didn’t believe me! So, the medication kept coming in the little cup every day, two times a day. To this day, I still feel a little anger towards that doctor. He was such an uncaring and jaded soul. He didn’t have to believe me because he thought I was nuts. Was I? Maybe, but there were times of clarity and he never seemed to be there when I had it - he was always there when I wasn’t at my best.

I had to attend classes every day with other people who were suicidal. We had to talk about our situations and the psychologist worked with us. I was the only gay man there. The rest were mostly men along with a few females - all apparently straight. I was very paranoid because I felt that people were not to be trusted. One day in the group session, we were writing about emotions. I wrote a poem that described all of the people in the ward. Here is what I wrote:

Prisoner Here I am in the single framed bed that squeaks –  Crinkling and cranking while I shift my sore body from one side to another Waiting for the magic pill to kick in and give me peace enough to sleep. Sleep would be hard in a place like this without my magic pill–  There’s the alien who walks up and down the aisles in a gaiting “clip clop, slurp” sort of manner. I can hear her drooling and wheezing and waiting for that time to suck my brains out. The guy that sits in the corner forever dwelling on his past life, never smiling, hardly moving, dazed look in his eyes – glazed over by large amounts of tranqs. The talk-talk woman with a patch on her eye that has a face that has seen way too many drugs and bottles – who’d probably steal your iPod in a blink of a single, solitary, watchful eye. The guy with the headset and the big smile (don’t trust eternally smiling people – they’re the ones to watch out for – even more than the alien). The shuffling lady who shuffles and turns away when you look at her – fear of knowing the truth would hurt her too much and will cry at the drop of a hat. The doctor who is all professional – heartless, pill pushing, not really so strong – Huh, if he were in my shoes he’d be worse off… Friends come and go and my mood swings up and down with a rhythm – high when there, high for a while, but not high like him – the one who helped me get into here. He doesn’t know the end of my rope came this week and he might have actually won, if I hadn’t opened my mouth and spoken the horrid truth of my mind that an eternal sleep in my car would take me to my next place and leave all the worries behind. Instead of a magical voyage, I am back here in this crinkling and cranking bed – letting the pill take over and letting that same eternal-type feeling sink into me as I drift off to sleep thinking that tomorrow might be a better day… February 28, 2009 (Vancouver General Hospital Psychiatric Ward) 

When I read that poem, I am amazed at the descriptions that I used. There really was someone who walked the halls making those funny noises like clip clop and slurping. I never did see who it was…. There was a woman with an eye patch who looked shady and the  woman who would start to cry if anyone glanced at her. There actually was a scary looking sitting all day in the corner.  Some of them were in my group meeting as well.

I was in that ward for almost three weeks. Bill would come and visit me and give me news of the pets. The counsellor from my school, Harry came to visit me and I could tell he was horrified with the way I looked. I think he spoke to the nurse or the doctor about my medications and the crazy drug stopped. 

The time dragged on through two weeks and into the third. I was slowly starting to feel a glimmer of hope. One of the teachers from school came for a visit and I asked her if she could bring student portfolios for me to mark. They had been working on them before I left. The psychologist agreed that it would be okay and probably beneficial. I can remember lovingly going through each portfolio and admiring what they had put together. Those portfolios went back to my class two days later.

One day in our group meeting, I wrote another poem:

The Epiphany (Grant’s Big Hope) One would think, That a guy couldn’t have something hit him on the back of the head – At four in the morning (in a psych ward). The searcher has found the end of his path – not the end he planned last week (The Permanent One). But an end where the word Happiness suddenly becomes a reality. Where were you all this time?  Why did you abandon me for so long? Or am I just too blind to see that you were always here? Right in front of my unseeing eyes. Look down, just a little bit to your heart, For that is where it is. I’m just the tool that has shown you the way. You are happy! You love yourself! Happiness is no longer a mystery, but your reality. Where will you go now?  March 5, 2009 – 3:00 PM in a Creative Workshop at the Psychiatric Ward at VGH) Both of the poems come from a document that contains many of the poems that I have written in my life. They are stark reminders of a time where I was lost and later found myself again.

Then came the day when Bill arrived and I was to go home. I had had my final meeting with the psychologist and she said that I was fit to go home, but needed to stay off work until well after March break. Bill would stay with me for the next month. That is another story that I think that I will leave for tomorrow.

For Pride, I am celebrating the strength of the human spirit. I wrestled with my demons and I won. When I left that ward and was outside for the first time, the outside air cheered me and elevated my mood. If you’ve every wrestled with demons like I have, you might have an inkling of what it was like. I’m sure that others will have empathy for what I went through. 

Happy Pride, everyone! Carpe diem.

[otter1962crystalball]

The Addiction Lingers Like a Painful Reminder

June 17, 2024

Happy 17th day of Pride, everyone. Today, I am writing about how Dean’s addiction continued to affect me and how it almost destroyed me.

I wrote yesterday that I had to get my lawyer to move things along. Since Dean was on title, it made it more complicated to get resolution. This meant that finding an end would take more than a year. During that time, my life became a nightmare.

Dean quickly kept the outside access doors barred. He also nailed boards against the door that I used to use to go downstairs. I had to basically have his permission to access my washer and dryer or any of my storage items. I’m not sure what Dean did, but my washer refused to work. It was broken. With resignation, I bought a new pair of washer and dryer. I had to make sure that I had access to have them installed, which happened, but I couldn’t use them often enough.

My evenings after work consisted of watching the stream of men coming and going from the basement. He also now had a “boyfriend” who was staying with him in the basement. This guy was nasty to me. There was no way I could convince Dean to leave - even though I told him that he hadn’t paid anything for almost a year. He and his boyfriend would sit there stoned and sneered at me until I broke down in tears or left in desperation.

One day, I went to the workshop side of the basement and knocked. Dean wasn’t there or in the other side so I tried the door and found it unlocked. When I walked in, I was dumbstruck. There was trash everywhere and needles strewn all over. There were tin foil spoons with burned crystal all over the place. There was a sleeping bag in the closet with some stranger’s clothes. The sling was hung where he had installed it as well. As I approached the sling area, I noticed that Dean had used a knife to tear open a heating vent to let heat in as there was no heat on that side. The workshop reeked of drugs, body odour and shit. There were also the beginnings of a crystal meth making kit. I took pictures of everything and left. That was the last time that I had access to the basement. I would never know what was going on down there.

Yes, I called the police and told them about the crystal meth lab, but no one cared. No policeman ever came to my door. I would sit up at nights worried that the house would blow up, killing me and my pets, along with Dean and who ever was down there. Men still came to my door so much that I stopped answering the door. There were even times when Dean would not leave the house. We used texting to communicate and the sound that my phone made when a text from Dean came in, made me literally sick to my stomach to hear. I had to change the sound for my own sanity. There were several times when there was not a sound in the basement for days one end, but I knew that Dean was there. Sometimes he wouldn’t answer my texts. I could hear the text coming in on his phone through the floor but no answer. At least three times in that year, I thought that Dean had died of an overdose in my basement. Just when I was about to break down the door, he would be there to confront me. The last time he mumbled about needing money so he could go to the Downtown East Side of Vancouver to get some heroin. It seemed he was now addicted to that as well. His friend who got him addicted disappeared so I never found out what happened to him. He most likely died of his cancer.

The day came when we had a Discovery Meeting between my lawyer and I on one side of the table and Dean and his lawyer on the other side. The judge sat at the end of the table. My lawyer presented my offer and a request that the house be put in my name. His counter offer was spousal support as we were common in law before the break up. He also wanted future profits to come in if I sold the house. The judge told Dean that he should take my offer and that the future profits were not valid. In the end I had to take a large chunk of my RRSP’s (retirement savings for my American friends) to pay off Dean. I then had to budget for spousal payments for the next year. I was in a real financial bind. Vancouver, even back in 2007-2008, was extremely expensive. 

For me, the house was all that I had left. With the agreement signed and a date to move out, the whole process began, but it was even more hellish for me. With the house being signed over to me, the bank had to renegotiate the mortgage with me. The application came through and I had to wait for the bank’s agreement. One evening, my bank manager called and said that they couldn’t give me a mortgage on my own based on my teacher’s wages. I climbed into bed and cried myself to sleep.

The next morning, I dragged myself to school. Instead of going into my classroom, I went to the counsellor’s room and he was there. He welcomed me in as it was customary to hang out in his room. I sat down on the couch and stared straight ahead. I’ll call him “Harry” and he asked me what was wrong. I remember staring straight ahead and saying that I was leaving and not coming back. Harry asked me several times and I said the same thing. I broke down and sobbed for a long time. The bell rang, so Harry called the Vice Principal to cover my class until I was ready. Harry finally clued in to what I was saying about not coming back. I wasn’t going to come back to school because I wasn’t going to continue living. Harry was a professional and handled the situation well. He called up the Principal and explained what was going on as I continued to cry uncontrollably. She came to the room and said that she would call a substitute in to cover my class. Harry went down to my class with me to pick up my things. The students were quietly reading for the Vice Principal. I couldn’t even say goodbye to them. I just looked at the floor after picking up my belongings and headed back to the counsellor’s room.

Harry told me that he had called an ambulance and that they would come and take me to an emergency clinic. Twenty minutes later, the ambulance arrived at the front of the school and Harry led me out to the waiting attendants who put me in the back of the ambulance. I remember little of the ride, other than they seemed to be going all over the place. I don’t even know how long it took to get to the clinic where I was to see a doctor.

Inside, I met with a doctor and he asked me if I wanted to take my life. I said yes because I had no reason to live. My mind was a foggy mess and what little I remember seeing was through bloodshot eyes that constantly became blurry from the tears that wouldn’t stop. The doctor told me that the ambulance would take me to the hospital for processing. I asked him what would happen if I refused. He said that I could refuse, but the police would come for me. Harry was there with me and he convinced me to get into the ambulance - without even knowing who was going to take care of my pets - Dean couldn’t even if he wanted to.

I’m going to stop there as I realize that there is still so much to tell. I will continue the story tomorrow. For Pride, I am celebrating life itself. If you’ve ever considered taking your own life, then you must know how desperate and lost I was. If you know someone who might take their life, listen to them and take it seriously. It could save their life.

Carpe diem, everyone. Appreciate your life, please.

[otter1962crystalball]

Facing an Addiction

June 16, 2024

Today is June 16th and we are in the second half of Pride Month. Today I am continuing the story about Dean from yesterday.

Dean and I grew very close. He would often stay in my condo over night. On the weekends, we would sometimes stay at his apartment. I was getting really tired of the nonsense that goes on in Condo committees, so one day, I put my condo up for sale. I had done some really good upgrades so I got substantially more than I paid for it. Dean and I bought a house in Strathcona using most of my money. Dean helped out by making payments and buying groceries. I was teaching full-time and he continued to work at the bathhouse. We stayed there for a little more than a year and then we decided to buy a better house off Commercial Drive. It had more space and a lot less work to be done to it. I lived there until 2013.

For the most part, we had a great life together. We both loved the house and spending time together. Then one day it all started to change. A long time friend of Dean’s moved back to Vancouver. It turns out that he was dying of cancer and wanted to have some fun before he passed. Dean was more than willing to help him live his dream before he passed. I have to add that Dean was a very kind and humble man. He would help just about anyone. So it came to be surprise when Dean’s friend changed everything.

When I first met Dean, he was taking Percocet for a back pain. Before his friend arrived, he had switched to Oxycontin. I never really thought much about it because Dean had stopped drinking alcohol and we celebrated his sobriety every year. This year would be different. Dean started to not come home or be outside the club when I went to pick him up. He would be late and would give no reason why. His demeanour also changed. He complained of of not getting enough Oxycontin. It was around this time when he started to miss payments to help with the mortgage. I was working in a good teaching job, so naive me just paid the bills.

One day, I went to pick him up and he wasn’t there. I parked the car and went into the bathhouse. Another friend knew me and let me in so I could find Dean. What I found shocked me. There was Dean in a sling and had a parade of men going into his room and fucking him. I found this out from the friend who let me in. I approached Dean and took him home. His friend kept coming back and Dean would disappear for days on end. I was very confused as to what was going on.

The day where everything changed was one that shocked me to my core. I asked Dean if he were taking drugs. He said that he was taking crystal meth, also known as Tina. Previous to Dean, I had had a couple friends who became addicted to the stuff and I knew that it was very difficult to quit taking it. I asked Dean how long and he said for the last month, but pointed out to me that he could quit whenever he wanted. It all became clear why he hadn’t been paying his part of the bills. He had started using his wages to get Oxycontin for him and his friend. Turns out they were freebasing it (grinding it up and cooking it in a spoon and injecting it). Later, Dean turned to crystal because his friend took it because he knew he was going to die and didn’t care. Dean, while he was able to stop drinking, he hadn’t dealt with the reason why he was drinking in the first place. His problems never went away, but just hid so far inside that I never knew he was suffering from this. So he turned to crystal.

I told him that I would not continue a relationship with him if he continued to use crystal. I also told him that I stand by him if he got help. He again said he could quit anytime he wanted. The problem was, he and his friend didn’t want to quit. So, I told Dean that our relationship was over and that he would have to find a place to live because he hadn’t paid anything in months. What he did was to barricade himself in the basement. He barred the basement door and the two back doors. He told me that he had a right to live there as he was on the mortgage. I didn’t know what to do, so I contacted another friend and I can remember quite clearly what he said, “Grant the Dean that you once knew is now dead. You’ll never get him back.”

I quickly realized that I had a major problem on my hands. Soon, there were people knocking on my door asking for Dean. There was a constant stream of men coming and going from the basement. I called a lawyer and began the process of getting him out of the house. 

Dean lost his job because of his addiction, so he just stayed in the basement for most of the time. I had to beg him to allow me to use the washer and dryer in the basement. He had to supervise me when I was doing so because he said that I was after him and that I was a horrible person. It also turned out that he seroconverted because of the many men with whom he had had sex. 

One Friday night, a few months in, I came home from school exhausted. I sat on the couch and suddenly I heard this horrible banging in the work shed side of the basement. It had a separate entrance form the other side. I banged on the door instead of using the key. He came to the door naked. I asked him what he was doing. He said that he and another guy were fucking and whether I wanted to join them. He was clearly stoned and was very aggressive. I looked past him and saw that he had installed a sling from the ceiling and that was what I heard from the first floor. I begged Dean to not do this. The other guy quickly dressed and ran out. Dean followed him, so I went and took the sling down and hid it in the garage. When Dean came back, I could hear him screaming in the basement and soon, he was knocking on the front door. I opened it a crack and he yelled at me to give him back the sling. I tried to push the door closed, but he was stoned and seemed to have found major strength. He pushed the door ajar enough to reach in and scratch me down my arm, which started to bleed. I told him it was in the garage and that I was calling the police, so he took off.

When the policeman arrived, he came into the house and I told him about being attacked by Dean. He asked, if we were a couple and I said no longer. He also asked if Dean was on the mortgage. I said yes. I asked him if he was going to help me and charge Dean for assault. The policeman just looked at me and said, “I can’t interfere with family issues. This is between you and him.” I then plainly asked him that if I were a woman, would he help me? He simply said, “Yes. Have a good evening. Just don’t get stabbed or shot.” He then left me there to try and understand what had just happened.

I am going to stop the story here because there is a lot more to it. I got sick a few days after Dean’s attack. My doctor examined me and took some tests. He told me that I had dysentery and it was caused by Dean’s scratch down my arm and that it was from having sex without cleaning up. I was horrified.

Dean had indeed changed from a humble kind man to this raving maniac. My lawyer told me that welfare had provided Dean with a lawyer. This is when the fight for my sanity and my home began.

For this Pride, I am celebrating surviving a trauma. Tomorrow I will write why. If you have faced dealing with a drug addict, then you know what I had to deal with in this situation.

Carpe diem, everyone and happy Pride.

[otter1962crystalball]

Lifting the Curtain and Seeing Something Valuable

June 15th, 2024

Happy 15th Day of Pride, everyone! We are now halfway through the month. This is my 15th entry into my blog and it has opened up my eyes and my heart about writing. Yesterday I mentioned that I was skipping over a lot of details in my blogs. This tells me that I could fill in the holes and write a book. I’m still wrestling with the thought of who would want to read a book about an average gay man in his 60’s who’s seen a lot in his time? As I write this, I’m at a Rainbow Craft and Vendor show in Nova Scotia. There is downtime and an opportunity to chat with my neighbours. The idea of an anthology of SLGBTQIA+ stories ranging from religious persecution, coming out, living with HIV and more. Anyway, who knows.

So back to my story about depression and loss. I mentioned that I was deeply depressed and lost when my partner of five years decided to end it. I also mentioned my frequent trips to the bathhouse. There was a certain attendant at the door who often rang me in. He was a really nice guy and I like him. I knew it wasn’t the best to be hitting on the staff while working. One night, he wasn’t working and was in the showers. What struck me the most was he had a very heavy looking round weight around his balls! 

I won’t go too much into bathhouse etiquette, but leaving your door open was an invitation for other guys to invite themselves in. There was a way of saying no to guys that you weren’t interested in, but with the staff member and his weights - he intrigued me. His name was Dean. When he came to my door, there was no need. Let’s just say that we had a rather intense hour together.

Afterwards, we lay there chatting for more than an hour. He had a partner and was planning on moving to London in the UK. I shared what had been happening in my life as well. We parted ways and I went back to my condo. The next time I went to the bathhouse, Dean was working. As I went in, he came to me and I got a hug and a kiss. He asked me what I was doing later and asked me if I would go out to a late night dance club. I said yes.

When Dean got off work, we went to this dance club (I’d never been to a rave before). On the dance floor, it was clear that there were a lot of stoned people. Dean and I were totally sober. I fondly remember pulling off our shirts and playing with each other’s nipples while dancing. Dean had a dreamy look in his face and asked me if I wanted to go home with him. I said yes.

For the next three nights, I spent the night with him. What I noticed the most about my emotions was how the depression that had dogged me for almost a year, seemed to have vanished. For a few weeks we continued to see each other at his place or mine. Then, one day, Dean said that he wasn’t moving to the UK and was splitting with his partner. 

I was at this point in a confused space. I wanted to let go of Jeff and also wanted to start something with Dean. The problem with the confusion was that I really believed that I could not be happy. I felt that life had dealt me so many bad hands that I couldn’t conceive of being happy. Many evenings, I would make dinner and take some to Dean at the bathhouse. On one night, I went in and sat in the workroom as Dean ate. I suddenly told him that I probably shouldn’t see him. I have no idea why - it just seemed that my inner critic was telling me to not take a chance and avoid getting hurt again. Dean sat there silently and I could tell he was disappointed. 

I left and felt the clutches of depression hit me again. I went home and just sat there. There was a buzz on the intercom and I answered it. Dean was downstairs. He came to my door soaking wet as it rains constantly in Vancouver during the winter into spring. I had a vision of the movie “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” when Audrey Hepburn kicks the cat out on the street and she and George Peppard’s characters later hunt for “Cat” in the pouring rain. The scene where she hugs the cat when they find him was what I saw in my head as I looked at the water dripping off Dean’s entire body.

That was the beginning of a relationship with a man I grew to love very deeply. I will continue the story tomorrow.

For Pride, I am celebrating that we can love. No one can take that away from us. It’s also important to note that in my life journey I have learned to love myself. 

Carpe diem, everyone!

[otter1962crystalball]

Love, Depression & Letting Go.

June 14th, 2024

Happy 14th Day of Pride! Today I am writing about falling in love along with letting go when the love flies away and how depression and anxiety can almost destroy a person.

As I look back on my life since seroconverting, depression was often waiting in the wings for me. Yesterday I wrote of the deep depression I felt over losing Eddy the first time. When I decided to leave, I had concerns about living alone in a small city such as Jonquière, Québec. Very few people spoke English, with the exception of the teachers at the CEGEP de Jonquière. This was college level teaching in ESL (English as a Second Language). I felt very isolated and didn’t really make any friends while teaching there. I was also teaching step and aerobics at a local gym. I didn’t really befriend anyone. In fact, I had to insist a woman leave me alone as she stalked me. I guess that she hadn’t figured out that I was not going to hook up with her. Who knows, maybe she thought she could change me…

Anyway, during that year of teaching ESL, the only person I really talked to was a former professor from my degree. We had hit it off because he and his wife were living there at the time.  Most of my time was taken up with walking Bailey and playing on the internet. I had to do so at the CEGEP in the teacher’s lounge because back in those days most houses didn’t have Internet yet. I’d sign in and go to the lounge and hook up to IRC (Inter Relay Chat). I just looked it up on the Internet and it still exists! 

Once on, I would link into gay chatrooms. You could only type text and send pictures to someone. It was there that I met a guy that I will call “Jeff.” We chatted on a regular basis and I found out he lived in Vancouver. I told him that I was going to move there to go to the University of British Columbia to upgrade my teaching degree. Jeff and I really started sharing a lot and we started talking about what might happen when we met. We had exchanged pictures and there was a connection, so we both started looking forward to meeting each other. This took place in the dead of winter and it was so bloody cold there. All I could think of was escaping and going to Vancouver.

So, when school was done, I resigned and packed about 15 boxes and sent them to my sister’s place by UPS. Bailey, TC, Bob and Marnie came with me. To be honest, I can’t even remember how I got to the Montreal airport. I do remember getting the dog and cats ready to fly.

When I arrived in Vancouver, my sister took Bailey to a vet where they boarded dogs. The cats came with me to her apartment. Not long after, I found an apartment in the West End. It was a filthy apartment, but relatively cheap back in those days. I spent a long time cleaning it and painting the walls and the kitchen cabinets. Jeff and I hung out and began a relationship.

The next year, we moved in together, first in his current apartment and then the top floor of a duplex. Later, we bought a townhouse together. We were a couple for almost five years. 

One day, Jeff decided that he didn’t like our sexual lives together, of which I won’t go into detail. That night he decided, we were lying in bed and he told me he wanted out. I got upset and moved to the second bedroom. I was in such shock that I couldn’t sleep. I even ended up in the hospital, where the doctor gave me some Ativan to take and told me to go home. This was the start of one of the most deep depressions that I have ever lived.

I felt totally lost. I managed to continue to work at my school where I now had a permanent position. I literally tried to escape living in the townhouse with Jeff, so I moved into a friend’s place. That didn’t work out too well as the friend made passes at me and I was too weak to say no and let him. This was winter of 2001, when I went home to my parents’ for Christmas, so depressed that I couldn’t function. It was also the time when my father had his first stroke. The whole family got together to decide what to do.

I could barely function. My older brother told me to stop being so glum - it was a part of life for a parent to have a stroke. Little did my brother know what I was going through. We all decided our parents live in a condo that was easy to navigate for my Dad. 

After that, I went to my sister’s for a while, but her male partner didn’t like me. I think that he was rather homophobic. So part way into my stay, my sister came and told me that she was putting me on a plane because the two of them needed to set their New Year’s goals. I knew the real reason and didn’t speak to my sister for almost ten years.

When I got home, I immediately went to another friend’s place because I didn’t want to be sexually harassed by the other guy. Looking back at the time, I was depressed over losing Jeff, not being able to function well at work or do much of anything.

The townhouse that Jeff I owned was sold and I got a nice sum of money. I ended buying a condo in the West End. I hit a snag because the bank where I was requesting the mortgage made unreasonable demands. The representative made me get a second line of credit with another bank in order to allow me to get a mortgage. It turned out that he was being very unreasonable and I got another representative who really took me under his wing. This snag made my depression even worse.

I settled into my condo and I tried to move on. I spent many nights walking around the West end, the seawall or going to the bathhouse. Tuesdays were cheap locker night. A friend convinced me to go so that I wouldn’t stay at home and be depressed. The anonymous sex did help, I guess.

And then, one night it all changed. I’ll tell you about that tomorrow. I began this blog about how depression could destroy someone. It almost destroyed me… 

I want to finish off by saying that I’ve skipped many, many details in all of my blog entries. Maybe, I should write a book… For Pride, I am celebrating support for those who are depressed. I needed an ear to share all of my pain and I’ve always been open to returning the favour to anyone who needed the same. If you know someone who is depressed, reach out to them. It could change things for that person to know there is someone who will listen.

Carpe diem, everyone. Happy Pride!