We all make them. They can cost us everything. Especially when we refuse to own them.

I’ve made more than most and continue to do so.

In a relationship, we end up on different teams and become each other’s harshest critic. I’m really bad at this.

Nothing hurts so much as hearing criticism from the one we love, the one whose respect we want more than anyone else’s.

What I always wanted in a relationship was something that I experienced years ago on a framing crew…..

I was 21, Geoff was 25. I had more experience framing, was quicker, but Geoff was more mature, punctual. The owner/boss of the crew formed a hierarchy that consisted of a Boss, a lead hand, and 2 labourers. It seems silly now but I wanted the lead hand position badly. So did Geoff. The lead hand would make 14$ an hr instead of 13$.

One summer day the boss gave me and Geoff instructions. One of us was to cut the blocking for a gable, prepare it to be erected. The other was to take a labourer, and level and straighten the walls.

I asked Geoff to choose, he chose to cut the gable blocks. I levelled the walls. Geoff was having a bad week. Lots of mistakes. The Boss had mumbled to me he was unhappy with him. I felt like I was certain to get the lead hand position.

When the boss returned, he was in a foul mood. He came up the stairs and took one look at the gable,

“For Fucks sake, it’s all fucking wrong” he cursed. “Who fucking prepped the gable?”

He was livid.

I don’t know why, I think it’s was the look of anxiety on Geoff’s face, but I simply said.

“I did, I cut them.”

What ensued was a verbal barrage of the worst kind. I was told this was the exact reason why I wasn’t ready to be a lead hand.

I didn’t care, I felt really good about what I had done. Geoff came up to me and thanked me.

Months later, I made a far bigger mistake, and Geoff took the fall for me. I would surely have been fired if he hadn’t. After that, me and Geoff couldn’t of cared less who became lead hand. We were teammates. We disagreed, we fought, but we always had each other’s back.

Always I have wanted this in a romantic relationship. But I need to look in the mirror. Have I ever given my partner what I gave Geoff that day? Have I ever deserved what he gave me months later? I can’t speak for my partners but if I’m honest I have to say I must not have. You have to give to get, and clearly I didn’t give what I so desperately wanted.

If you read this far, thank you.

Tris

One of the greatest things that has ever happened to me is the gift of fatherhood.

Prior to my son being born I was in a deep depression, and isolated emotionally. Nothing brought me joy, I was mired in a swamp of self loathing.

Then I was given a card. “You are going to be a dad.” it said.

My first response was to get up and think about work, and if I could provide for this child to come. My greatest fear has always been the fear of not being able to provide for a family.

Soon, everything became new again. When I first met my son my belief in a God was cemented. That night I drove home, I thought about all the great things I’d do with him. For whatever reason, I couldn’t wait to take him to the Zoo. I wanted to watch him see things for the first time. His smile made me smile. His laugh made me laugh. His little arms around my neck brought tears to my eyes more than it should’ve. In many ways he gave my life purpose.

I was lucky enough to experience this again with my daughter. We didn’t bond initially like Ali and I did but as she got to 12 months we were fast friends, and share that bond to this day. We run the dog together, fly airplanes together, laugh at ourselves a lot. We have the same sense of humour and love to mock ourselves. In fact I’m waiting to watch her play volleyball right now and I’m so happy to be here.

When you get divorced you give up something huge. 1/2 time with your children, sometimes more. But for all those out there going through it, it’s ok. 1/2 time of good quality time spent putting your heart into parenting is lots of time. Don’t waste any on guilt or regret.

Alastair is 16, Brook is 13. I can see the end in a way. The end of childhood. The end of being needed. But I see beginnings too. Ali went to ‘Law day’ yesterday. He will be very, very successful. Brook will be someone you hear on your radio if she chooses. She’ll also be above you flying planes. They will always be in my heart.

It has been and will always be my greatest honour to be a Dad.

Now I’m off to go watch a volleyball game.

If you read this far, thank you.

Tris

In a world where everyone is a click away it is becoming increasingly hard to find time to be in touch with yourself.

Where did you come from? Where are you headed? Where are you going? How do you feel at this very moment about where you are in this particular place of your life?

I need to do this sometimes to be true to myself. I want the phone to stop emailing, facebooking, texting; Throwing an already tired mind curve balls and sliders. It was strike three a while ago but I’m still swinging.

Everywhere I look someone is hurting. In pain. Hating themselves, self harming in a million different ways, telling themselves they are worthless. It’s overwhelming to me. I want to tell everyone how to fix it. How to let go of themselves and truly be free. But it just sounds like judgmental nonsense and no one wants to hear it. I remember tuning out the same message. This is when I need to recognize I’m not helping anyone. I’m not needed by anyone.

I used to hate myself. I poured alcohol down my throat with the best of them. Probably the quickest. I wouldn’t take care of myself. I remember one time I thought I had cancer, was sent for tests. On the way there I just felt I was getting what I deserved. I was almost relieved I was finally getting what I deserved. I could tell you of a million times I demonstrated self loathing behaviour. I’d wake up most mornings and curse at the mirror. My friends and family were constantly worried about me. Councillors, therapists, psychologists and psychiatrists diagnosed me with many things, mostly manic depression, then bipolar. I’m not sure but those things are pretty much the same. I’ll have to ask my beautiful girlfriend about that later. She’s brilliant.

I was given meds, sometimes I took them, sometimes I mixed them with booze. Cipralex with whiskey makes for an eventful night. I got used to living in a dark cloud. Told myself I was a good person because I was always good to others. I was always generous, always helping out.

But I wasn’t good to me.

I’ve learned something. The best thing we can do for others is to be our best. For them as much as for ourselves. We’ve all watched others hate themselves. It hurts.

So sometimes I need to recognize when I’m neither wanted or needed, and go hang out with a guy I’ve grown to like. Me. I’m enough for me. I know that for those that love me, that’s something that makes them happy.

So today, I’m going to disconnect, work. Go listen to my daughter, and then spend the evening with her and someone I love very much. I’m happy. Hope you all are too.

If you read this far, ty.

Tris.

We have this day set aside for our Valentines. I think everyone has a Valentine. But only the lucky few get to be with theirs on this day. The rest of us are a character half way through a Nicolas Sparks movie.

I spent Valentine’s Day in solitude. Well not quite, Bauer, my canine companion, was with me, head on my chest as we watched a lousy movie together.

I had a hard time focusing on the movie. The hollowness inside me was painful. I know what physical pain feels like. I’ve broken my wrist, back, collarbone 6x, had internal bleeding, been stitched up many times, cracked ribs, cracked sternum. Been in more than a couple vehicle accidents. None of those hurt as much as that night. I wanted to cry, but what would be the point, it never helps. It just upsets Bauer. Dogs are kinda cool that way.

I don’t say this out of self pity. I’m glad I was alone. My mind wandered to all the people alone.

My son informed me that kids get time off this year because pressures from school and Valentine’s Day lead to higher rates of depression and suicide among teens. Nothing breaks my heart more than the thought of youth struggling to find their way, giving up, taking their lives. They needed the pain to stop, so they did what they felt they needed to do.

The elderly, alone. Often surviving the death of their lifelong Valentine. These beautiful people come from an era where marriage was for life. Can you imagine sitting there, reminiscing on Valentine’s Day at the end of this life, alone? Their lifelong partner was their Valentine, and now they are alone.

How about the children in abusive homes. Not properly fed, or clothed, beaten. Children desperately seeking the approval and love of parents who are focused on things like drugs, alcohol, promotions; anything but their children. Their parents are their Valentine, and their hearts are broken.

A friend of mine drove his family to the airport for what he thought was a holiday. He has never seen them since. That was decades ago. His wife had a plan. She was never coming back to him. It’s possible his behaviour led to her decision if anyone really cares about blame, but the pain I see in him when we talk about it is as deep as you could possibly imagine. He’s sober now, but up until sobriety he did his best to drink that pain away; causing more pain. Because of the drinking, arrests and records prevent him from flying. His children never come to see him. But if you could hear the love and longing in his voice when he calls them, you’d have to fight the tears back. I’ve heard these one sided conversations. This man has very little to his name, but he guards his wallet with his life. He doesn’t care about the money (if there is any) in it. It hold pictures of his children. He always has it with him.

I could go on and on. We all know these people. It’s so much to cope with, to feel. The human mind can’t process or feel all the hurtful, painful things happening in the world.

I feel like an idiot saying this, as I’m such a colossal failure in these matters, but wouldn’t it be great if we could just love the hell out of each other every day of the year? Perhaps then there would be less pain on Valentine’s Day. My commitment to myself is to allow myself to feel more, and just love people. My guess is next Valentine’s Day will be different.

If you read this far, thank you,

Tris.

There’s a best selling book titled “The Secret” out there. I’ve read it. It’s not exactly my favourite book. While I admit it touches on something I believe in, I find it to be a horribly corrupt interpretation of something good.

Let me try to explain….. The good in the book is the power of positive thinking. This is so true. My biggest exception to the book is the value system it uses. Happiness is measured by wealth and success.

My problem with this is success in today’s world is rarely something I respect, and to my eye often brings anything but happiness.

Financial struggles can be the source of a lot of misery, but wealth often seems to be even worse for people. Somewhere along the line they believe they “deserve” it. They “earned” it. They become so full of themselves they become intolerable. Vapid. I never begrudge their success, I cheer for it, but no one deserves the success one can experience in our capitalistic system.

I’ve had ups and downs in life, had success and failure but my happiest days where when I went and worked a hard day in tough conditions with my fellow crew members.

I will never give someone with money more respect than a homeless person I meet. Bad things happen to good people. Good things happen to lousy people.

I’d suggest to the few people who might care what I think that there is in fact a secret, but it’s not what the bestseller would suggest. My version of the Secret is free. No book, no spin off merchandise. Happiness is found in the things you don’t want to do. Give more than you take. Buy the cheap version of the expensive thing you want. Go do some manual labour. Be happy that someone has more than you. Dream of having less than you have right now.

I know people worth millions, I know people worth nothing; It’s not obvious to me that the wealthy are happier. I can tell you who I’d rather spend my time with.

I’m not a socialist, I think it’s important that everyone take responsibility for their own lives, freedom to trade their time and energy to try to achieve more for their family is important. I just wish that as a society we changed our collective value system. If we could all recognize that happiness actually came from humble sources we just might find it actually holds the key to the imbalance we see in the world.

Both sides of the political spectrum have one thing in common. They value wealth as the most important thing. This is deeply flawed. Redistributing wealth will not solve anything. Do you really think the snotty trust fund kid has a better life or self esteem than any poor kid in a bad neighbourhood has? I’d suggest the rich kid is probably deeply unhappy.

This summer me and my son did a reroof in 30+ degree heat together. It was easily one of the hardest days of work I have ever had in nearly 30 years of manual Construction work. Yet for BOTH of us, I believe it will be one of our happiest days. It’s certainly one of mine. I don’t think we made much money but something about that day made us happy. We did something very difficult together, we earned every penny the hardest of ways.

Could we all be millionaires if we all just believed it to be so? No. It’s not possible. For anyone to be as wealthy as the book portrays there needs to be thousands who have little. That is capitalism, let’s be honest. But who cares? I don’t want a boat, I don’t want a second home. I don’t want most things money can give you.

I’ll never forget one specific day in my life. I was 11 years old. My mum had given us all 10 dollars to buy something for ourselves at a small town hardware store in Big Valley Ab. I had been given a tool box recently, and saw a socket set for 20 dollars. My youngest brother, Caleb, who would’ve been 7, insisted I take his money so I could have what I wanted. I took his money. 33 years later it’s still something that I think of often. I believe that day he went home with nothing, but was deeply happy.

Put it to the test. Is there something you’ve wanted for a long time? Go buy it, and give it to someone that needs it.

Be honest, work hard, give more than you take. That’s the Secret.

If you read this far, thank you.

Tris

Maybe its my fear of intimacy, but I’ve always found it easier to connect with a stranger than with someone I love.

I push people away when they get close to me. I like people at a certain distance. Not too close, but please don’t go. I think it has been greatly misunderstood, by them and myself.

The consequence of this has been a life alone. Alone in a family. Alone in a relationship. Alone in a crowd. There’s been brief periods in my life where the clouds lifted, and I was open, It felt as if I was truly living. I describe it as coming out of a grey world into one with vibrant colours. The one exception to this has been my relationship with my children, they have always lit up my world.

I’m willing to admit its been unhealthy. That’s obvious. But, like everything there has been a silver lining. One of the silver linings has been random connections I refer to as two ships in the night.

Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence. -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The metaphor is a bit different for me than it was for the Poet who created it. When I read his poem, it sounds like the encounter holds little meaning or significance. For me, the idea of two vessels journeying across the ocean in murky darkness, crossing paths and bringing each other a degree of warmth and comfort, makes me smile. It has significance.

In my life, many times, I have felt alone, in the dark. Then, along that journey I meet someone, going in another direction but under similar conditions; It brings me comfort. There is no possible way of traveling together, we have different destinations, but for a moment, we are at the same place, same time. Together.

To all the ships whose bright lights brought me comfort, Thank you. You probably know who you are. To those that I loved, it broke my heart to see you go. You were so much more than a welcome ship in the night, you were my destination.

If you read this far, Thank you.

Tris

As I walked into my house tonight a thought struck me. I was home. It was clean. It smelled nice. My new burning wax thingamajig was working. The oil painting I had bought through kijiji was above the fireplace. My asshole dog was looking at me guiltily as he lay beside a bag of bagels he was stealing.

I have struggled to feel like I belong anywhere for most of my life. A city kid till I was 8, then into the country I went till I was 18, then travelled Alberta working Construction.

Meeting Creek, Edmonton, Pincher Creek, Cranbrook, Calgary. I married, but the home never felt like mine. Solely my fault, I didn’t put the effort in. So why would it feel like mine? My ex wife looked after everything.

But this house is different. It’s mine. Well myself and ATB own it. I built it with the dream of being a family in it. I wanted to provide my kids and partner with a home. I put my heart and soul in it. To most it’s probably nothing special. I didn’t put fancy bells and whistles in, but I built a character home with unique materials. It’s an original.

It’s a prairie farm-home. It has dormers, plank siding, and wooden porches that need staining. Thanks to one of my best friends who happens to be a landscaper, it’s beautifully landscaped.

The thing is it just became a home recently. I can’t explain it but it was a house we lived in till now. I think it had to do with me deciding I needed to put more effort into being a homemaker.

I’m making meals in my kitchen now. I can actually cook a little bit, but more importantly I clean up after. I want to return my home to the condition it was in. One of my favourite things to do is to make a meal for my kids, sit down, say grace, and eat together.

We are functioning in this house. Two pets have remained alive. Homework gets done. Bills get paid. Work gets completed. No one can come near our front door without the brave and ferocious Bauer barking to let us know. We feel safe here.

It might be just me, Bauer, and Hope sooner than I want. But I’m proud of what I’ve done. I’m not sure anymore I’ll ever leave. Where am I going to go?

To all my male friends, especially the ones that let their female partners do all the homemaking, give it a try. Go buy towels, you’ll see there are a few different kinds! Pick out some bedding, it’s (expensive) fun. Ask to have a room and make it awesome. Pick out a piece of art; Buy a lamp or a table. I’ll warn you, it’s addictive and incredibly rewarding. To the women, let them. It will most likely be awful but I think you can agree it’s only fair.

I’ll see you boys at Ikea. Don’t worry, you’ll still be a man, just one that appreciates his home more. You can crack a beer and watch a hockey game after.

Every man needs a castle, and I have mine.

If you read this far, thank you, Tris.

When my daughter asked for a dog the groundwork had already been laid in my heart. Through my tumultuous childhood dogs had always been my friend. Often times my best friend.

Tramp My first best friend. My earliest memories are playing with him. A beautiful German Shepard. I used to perform lion shows with him, culminating with me placing my head in his Jaws. I loved Tramp. I was gutted when he was put down. He had jumped up on a friend of ours and cut her above her eye. My Dad had no choice. Took me a long time to forgive the young girl he had bitten. How dare she get bitten.

Cole He was a beautiful black lab. Once again he was my best friend. He was the ultimate family dog. I think he died of old age. I love the memory of my Dad driving away in the large Dodge family van off to the Hospital. Cole riding shotgun. My Dad was the coolest Doctor ever.

Farnz Barnz My grandfather named him. We asked him for ideas because of his large vocabulary. Apparently it was a nickname the RAF gave to suspect pilots. This dog was amazing. I think he came into our lives during a very transitional time, we all went to him when we needed a friend. I know I spent more hours with Farnz Barnz than any other dog. As everyone moved on, he stayed with dad till his end.

Taiko My first dog. He was 80 percent Wolf. Pure white. Gorgeous. He was unbreakable in spirit. Untrainable. I think I loved that about him. He went with me everywhere I went. His face was the inspiration for my Company logo. I was 30 something, he was no longer happy in a small yard. I felt I needed to give him to a farmer up in Vulcan. I wanted him happy. When I took him over I couldn’t hold the tears back. I miss him every day because I don’t know what happened to him. No closure.

“Dad, can we get a dog”

Ever since I had kids I wanted my son and daughter to have the experiences I had with dogs. My son was older now and not a fan. My partner at the time was not in favour at all.

One crisp morning me and Brook went for the short drive for coffee. In the parking lot we saw a man carrying a puppy and giving it to a young woman.

“Look Brook, that man has puppies” I pointed out.

We looked at each other.

“Should we?” I asked, knowing the answer.

“Yes!” She exclaimed.

So without a second thought, I made a decision that would be a contributor to my eventual breakup, We spoke for a Golden Lab.

My son named him Bauer.

I’d like to say the story ends there and we lived happily ever after. We didn’t. Bauer was the puppy from hell. He loved to bite my partner further straining an already shaky relationship. He ate my good boots. If you know me, you know I’m lucky to have one pair of functioning shoes. He chewed on my antique armoire my Father gave me. He scratched my floor.

I found myself wondering how the hell I had ever loved dogs. I hated Bauer. Resented him. I was mean spirited and harsh to him. I actually was wondering if in fact I had outgrown my love of dogs.

I struggled to find time to run him. I came home to his face on the local Facebook forum twice, with neighbours threatening his existence. He had this insane sex drive, and violated all of Brooklyn’s teddy bears. This disturbed me. I felt my dog was a sexual predator. It didn’t help that every time I looked at him he had his tongue out, as well as another extremity.

The only reason I didn’t get rid of him was my daughter. She loved him. Even my son was letting him into his heart. Through all my hate he never left my side. If I left the room he’d follow. If I yelled at him he’d go to the corner, but keep me in his site.

My heart started to melt further as my relationship with my partner ended. He became my primary companion. He slept in my bed. Every am we drive to the coffee shop where we bought him. I buy him Timbits. He then chases my truck as I drive down a gravel road. He greets me at the door every day. He is possibly the only living creature on planet earth that seems to enjoy my guitar playing. He loves me. Unconditionally.

I still tell him his mother gave him up for adoption, that I don’t love him. But my tone has changed. Someday it will be just me and him. I’m happy I’ll have him. below is a pic of him watching me right now. He is my best friend.

If you read this far, Thank you.

Tris

“The best laid schemes of mice and men go oft askew”

That line from a Robert Burns poem could sum up my 2018. It will likely summarize my 2019. Life is difficult. Very. It’s unpredictable, and no matter how hard you try to find your way oftentimes circumstance and chance have different plans for us. Lady Luck may smile, Murphy might render a verdict, Mother Nature could destroy and God may choose to bless or test us.

My youngest brother advised me once when things fall apart to “Reel and Dance”. When I first read that text I didn’t really get it. Now I do. When life throws a right hook at you, take the hit, roll with it and then break into a mocking jig as if to say, “Is that all you got?”

I’ve been justifiably accused of being melancholy. I tend to dwell on the negative. But I’d like to defend my position. Life is hard. I don’t know of a single person that doesn’t struggle. Of course we all want that life we see on others Facebook pages. Instagram photos showing perfect lives, vacations, beautiful meals. But I know for a fact every person behind that facade is hurting, tired, afraid, anxious. You name it someone right beside you is feeling it.

I understand that on the flip side of all those difficult things people endure are things like success, hope, excitement and happiness. I need to learn how to feel those things too, and to believe I deserve them.

2019, I’m ready. Do your worst. Take whatever you want from me, I’ll reel and dance in your face. And when the good comes my way I’ll soak it in.

My favourite Movie scene is found in “Shawshank Redemption”. Andy and Red found paradise on the roof of the prison they were in. Having bartered with the Warden they are hanging out together under a warm sun drinking a beer. Andy just sat there, saying nothing, he was taking in the moment and the moment was good.

Thanks to anyone and everyone who reads my drivel. I intend to keep writing but it may not be weekly. My wish for all those I love, respect, know and even dislike, is that you have an Amazing 2019. May your year be filled with moments. I’m going to go and be in the moment with my Son now. There is not a better way to start 2019.

Tris

There is a million reasons why I do not enjoy this time of year. As I child, I would get my hopes up for this magical thing to happen, and more often than not there was family conflict.

In my late teens my Mother was sick. She loved Christmas. She passed away on a frigid late Nov day and after that Christmas has never been the same.

All my taxes are due on Dec 30. So combined with extra spending I find it a financially stressful time.

The daylight hours are minimal. I most certainly do not enjoy darkness at 4 o clock.

I detest the sound of a bell. Jingly things give me an instant headache.

Since my divorce I’ve spent a few Christmas’s alone. That’s not recommended. I’d advise people to avoid that at all costs.

I dislike malls on a good day and some how a very horrible thing can become even worse this time of year. People running around blowing money on overpriced things drives me insane. No parking spots. Big line ups. Annoying, noisy people everywhere.

I am a horrible gift giver as well, so I’m constantly stressed I’m messing the gifts I do buy up.

My extended family typically has a lot of rifts than seem glaring this time of year.

As someone who loves Jesus I resent the absence of him in things like school plays and public displays. I know this is wrong, secularism is important especially as we continue to diversify religiously, but I still personally feel like we are betraying the good Guy.

I have a very special and inexplicable loathing for Santa Claus. He’s obese. He’s creepy. He’s judgemental. He runs a sweat shop. He abuses reindeer and commits millions of break and enters every year. I don’t like anything about him. Never have. Even his outfit disturbs me.

But…

I’m a father and there is a message around Christmas that I enjoy. Hope, Love, Forgiveness and the chance to spend time with family, take a few days off and watch the excitement in my kids.

The world needs to be secular, free. But I don’t. Christmas to me is the story of the greatest gift ever given. A child of such greatness one cannot imagine, born in a stable. He grew up in poverty, worked manual labour all the while confounding the greatest and most complex minds with simple stories. He committed no crime, he healed, he loved and he taught. He taught us a new way to live that I struggle to follow. He died a horrible death and said he did it for me. For all of us. That is and will always be good enough for me.

So I will embrace this Christmas season, and stop being a grinch. Happy Birthday to you Big Guy.

If you read this far thank you,

Tris.