With No Goodbyes

After a very tough number of months deciding upon a proper course of action, I ultimately concluded to end all forms of possible contact with one of my best friends since the 9th grade (for 11 years total). A number of things have contributed to the relationship's demise but none of them are definitive. That, the vagueness, is actually the worst part.

My hunch is that her current boyfriend doesn't want me around. At no point in time did we, my friend and I, have a fallout or any such issue. She simply stopped responding to any calls or texts in a reasonable fashion; everything devolving into one word answers or sentences with no substance. If there is/was a problem, I hoped she'd have spoken up. We've always been very open with each other and it's a sharp pain that it's ended up with naught but silence.

As much as I'm empathetic to people with extremely busy schedules, the "I'm really busy right now" angle doesn't hold up during the course of a year. If I can't get an hour or so for a drink/lunch here and there, I don't see myself as a part of her life anymore.

I wouldn't mind if she told me the reasons behind the cold shouldering. As long as I know what's going on I can deal with it and, inversely, being in the dark and being left behind is obviously not something that makes one feel valued. I can indeed understand if her boyfriend didn't want me around (it's pretty common for relationships anyhow), but I can't fathom any other explanations and it's digging at my nerves.

So, it's done. I've eliminated all forms of interaction, the biggest being Facebook since I still had to be privy to her posts and others linking to them, and I need to leave the history in the dust. 11 years is going to be extremely difficult to water down, but it's always one day at a time, right?

Acupuncture

I'm not very comfortable around needles. With that being said, I've always wanted to give blood but the large tube they stick in the arm is a huge deterrent. I balance it out by being an organ and stem cell donor for now, though my services haven't been needed yet. 

I wouldn't have tried acupuncture if I didn't already know someone who did it. Pierre, a buddy in the yoga circle, is a registered acupuncturist operating out of the studio I frequent. He talked me through the whole session so I knew when he'd be sticking a needle into my skin. It does sting at first, but nothing is really felt afterward unless you're a serious hypochondriac. For my part, I can feel the pressure of the needles. Thankfully, there's no pain.

In all honesty, the initial visit cleared up all lingering discomfort in my ankle within a day. It was insane. I then saw him again to "balance out the flow in my body", then when I sprained my wrist, and now I go about every 3 or so weeks for regular maintenance. I much prefer this to traditional western practices now.

The creakiness I feel after a session takes only a night of rest to transform into fantastic freshness. I fully believe in the restorative powers of acupuncture. It won't fix everything, certainly, though it does a lot more than some of the other treatments I've experienced over my years. The view, of course, is subjective.

Motivation

The words in the image below were written on the last day of training for the crisis lines. Each trainee wore a large sheet of paper on their backs and the others would anonymously write something about them. This poster is something that makes me move everyday, and no amount of other "inspirational" quotes will outdo it. One might say it strokes the ego, and it may, but I believe it does something else entirely. When I firmly decide on how to describe the feeling, I'll update this.

The Quiet

The last few weeks, perhaps the month, have been quite slow. The crisis lines have been especially so, though that may not be a bad thing. If people aren't calling then, I'm hoping, they are all doing fine. When it's quiet I start thinking a bit too much. Actually, that's not much different than any other time....

The RCMP Community Station has also been light on duties since its grand opening, of which will change in the coming months as charity drives and safety initiatives for winter start picking up. Still, I try to get out on Saturday patrols. Even if the only thing my partner and I do during the shift is give directions to people, it's a worthwhile investment of 4 to 6 hours.

The yoga studio is only the place that gets really busy what with all the membership discounts and all. Despite the corporate-ness of the studio, it's a great space full of great people and I'm happy to do their laundry and clean the washrooms for them. My night shift partner is a part-time paramedic, so there's a lot of stories to hear and procedures to learn along the way.

During my own personal time I thoroughly enjoy the quiet. Though my mind may run amok it's the perfect time to sort things out. From my schedule to my room, I'll take the time to organize and prepare. That being said, I'm an intense busybody and volunteering is my way of dispersing energy accumulated during the quiet moments. There's nothing like it, in the best of ways, as I can pass on the energy to others.

Aquarium Day

I haven't been to the Vancouver Aquarium in about 6 years. The last time I went was when I was still studying with the Art Institute and it was a field trip to sketch the critters for a life drawing class. Man, has it changed. The entrance is nicely gussied and the interior looks almost nothing like what it used to be, though the layout is still familiar. What hasn't changed at all is the glee and awe that the place inspires in me.

The butterflies in the Amazon Gallery were amazing to be near. They were fearless and flew, glided, and swooped so close that you could feel the air ripple around their wings. The parrots, ducks, and lizards scurrying around filled out the atmosphere, as did the chirping of the marmosets.

It was nice to catch a glimpse of the two sloths. I don't remember ever being able to spot them during any previous trips. They were appropriately slothy, dozing in positions that would be terrible for humans.

I loved the frog-centric section. They've been one of my favourite types of creatures since I was little as the way they move and look is oddly captivating. It's sad to know tens to hundreds of frog species are disappearing so rapidly; sometimes due to human carelessness and other times the reasons are pure mysteries.

As much as the otters are always a fun attraction, I like the seal way better. It has a very apparent personality and its curiosity brings it closer to visitors. I always get a kick when they awkwardly growl and wave at the audience since they look so out of character doing so.

The new penguins are fantastic. Even though I missed the show by a few minutes and they were doing absolutely nothing when I arrived, they nonetheless had me mesmerized. Not since the San Diego Zoo had I seen penguins up close. I suppose the heat made the birds eschew all movement. One of their number just stared quizzically at a wall, looking away from time to time, and then going back to staring at the wall.

I'll end the post with a video I took of an otter doing something questionable. Enjoy?

The Crisis Lines

So ends my first month of manning the crisis lines independently. It's not anywhere near as nerve-wracking as I imagined it would be. My instructor and line coaches always told us that that was the case, but I'm always wary and over-prepare myself just in case. The two mandatory training shifts, where an experienced volunteer will listen in on calls and help if one freezes up, before going it solo worked out great.

From ten calls over the two shifts, four hours each, each one was quite different ranging from first-time callers to regulars to depression to anxiety. The toughest call, my first ever, was of severe depression. It was difficult to end the call after going through the motions I trained for as it just felt I was letting the caller down. 

For the record, depression is the hardest issue to deal with.

In most cases, though, we normally deal with anxiety. After chatting with a few of my shift partners as a proper volunteer, the general feeling is that the few minutes we spend with callers are the most attention some of them ever receive. I wish I could do more, but I know my responsibilities and much it out of my hands. The most volunteers can do, which is wise, is to refer distressed people to professional healthcare practitioners. What we do best is listen.

Some callers don't seek change nor can they ever change. The regular callers that are mentally ill do so because they are isolated, lonely, and require an outlet. The contact the crisis lines provide is enough to bring them back from the edge of a psychotic break or overworked nerves. It's amazing what one can accomplish with the reflecting of emotions and situational validation; the former helping callers acknowledge their state and the latter allowing them to see where life stands.

Finishing up a crisis line shift is also leaves me satisfied. I'm not sure if it's because I felt like I was actually able to help someone or because of some sort of tension release I get from doing do so. It seems to be an ethereal reward that permeates volunteer work as a whole. Everyone I've gotten to know at the crisis centre is either deep into their careers or retooling their classes to better suit a job in health services, and they all feel the same way of not being to explain their satisfaction. One volunteer I regularly chat with just called it "humanity and decency at play."

I really enjoy volunteering on the lines, no doubt about it. I learn a lot about myself as well, especially what issues I may be more sensitive to than others. From exercising sound communication skills to understanding how to subtly control a conversation (and my own reactions/emotions relative to hearing about harsh turmoil), there are so many skills to practice and many more to hone in the coming months.

From The Past

So I found this after a few hours of searching back in May of 2011. I remember the day, in the picture, as a VPD showcase of their equipment and services at the Vancouver Public Library. I had never been around so many officers at once and it was quite glorious to a 7ish year old. The interesting thing about this picture is that I'm not even on the motorcycle.

I vaguely remember that I declined the officer's invitation to get on the beast, and I don't think I even touched it at all. Maybe it was because I thought it was sacred or something, but I never liked getting all over other peoples' stuff (that and I don't like people all over my stuff). Even in cadets the parade rifles my best friend and I used were never mistaken for the other. We treated them as our personal charges, so now I see that that mentality has been with me for an extremely long time.

Never noticed the woman behind me until I dug this up in 2011.

This picture is not the main spark, but it does dredge up a lot of memories of my childhood when my parents and I would be around Chinatown and the Downtown Eastside. Around there we had contact with VPD officers as they went about their patrols, making sure we weren't lost or in any danger (especially with a kid in tow). These few interactions left an indelible impression on me.

I do remember something the bike's rider said to me that day (and I'm paraphrasing): "Well, I couldn't keep my hands off of it after earning it." Duly noted.