Tell me your life story in 5 minutes or less.

Fair Gains Graduation - getting to know my participants is a joy and honour.

I cried at work today.  Actually, I cried yesterday as well. I find myself getting more passionate and emotional around work related issues lately.  Let's explore.

You know, when I started working at this job, supporting people on low incomes through financial literacy training programs, I didn't think that I was that involved in the social issue of poverty.  I first entered social work because of my travel experiences in poverty stricken countries and my heart always went out to immigrants and refugees living in Canada.  Let's face it, most immigrants and refugees go through some form of poverty in Canada as newcomers.

Yesterday, I held a bunch of one to one interviews with my program participants that are now at their half way point of their one year program.  This is honestly the best part of my job, but it can also be the most emotionally draining for me.  I don't know what it is, but I have this effect on people that allows them to open up and share freely about themselves, their lives, their successes, and of course, their struggles through life, past and current ones.  It all starts with my opening question, "Tell me your life story in 5 minutes or less".

Of course, some will keep it simple and share only small portions of their story. And others, well, they take the opportunity to actually open up and release some inner pain and anguish that perhaps they've been holding on to for quite some time. There is something powerful in letting someone just talk freely while someone sits on the other side of that round table and just simply listens.

Yesterday, as in the past, I listened to some courageous individuals tell some horrific tales of despair.  I am in awe of them. I am honoured to know them. I am proud to be a part of their lives. The one thing that is so common among them is their resiliency to keep going. Their strength to find the positive aspects within their darkened situations.

And so yesterday I cried a little. I cried when the refugee woman whom I've known for the last 6 months told me about how her 8 year old son stood beside his father and while he was murdered in their war torn country and sat with him for the next 10 hours until help arrived. I almost cried when the single mother was telling me how she was almost being evicted, yet again, but she told me with a smile on her face and with pride in her soul. I almost cried when the professional immigrant told me how she left her home country because she found the bravery to leave her husband after he emotionally abused her and that she had to lose custody to her only son because in her country there is no such thing as joint custody.

And today, today I cried as well. I cried because my one participant who has applied into a high profile program and has a heart of gold, will not be accepted into the program despite all of his hard work and efforts.  This man is like a buddha, so serene and positive, sending positive thoughts and gratitude everywhere he goes.  So, I haven't told him yet, but as a committee we have made the decision that it is not in his best long term interest to be a part of my program.  However, after our committee meeting, as I was wrapping up to go home due to my on-coming illness creeping in, my two co-workers pop up at my door with excitement.  They bear a gift for me, a small box with a happy face balloon, a card, and some candy.  I wonder, what the heck am I getting a gift for?  I open it, and lo and behold it is from the buddha.  He graduates on Monday and wanted to give me a thank you gift for being his teacher for the last year and goes on to tell me how wonderful of a soul I have.  And so, I cried.  I cried perhaps due to guilt because I know that I will have to eventually give him that dreaded phone call that he probably knows deep down will be coming.  I cried because he himself is the wonderful soul. He inspires me, and the beauty of it, the beauty of all the participants I encounter at my work, inspire me to be a better person, to be strong, resilient, and positive.

I sometimes wonder if I am the only one like this at my work.  Do my other colleagues not face the same challenges as I do?  Do I not practice enough boundaries with my participants?  Should I not have deep conversations about their life in our interviews, whereby I won't fully understand them as a person, and consequently not be able to support them achieve their goals?  Am I simply too emotional?  Is it wrong to be passionate and show compassion to others?  At what point do I build a thick skin, or cease to care? Are those two the same thing?  Am I on the edge of burn out? Would my job be as rewarding if I didn't care?

I don't have any regrets. I wish I could wave a magic wand and solve all their problems, but where would be the life appreciation in that?  We need struggles in life in order to appreciate the good stuff, correct?  After all, that's what brought me to social work in the first place, my own struggles with my identity.  And so, I'll go back to work on Monday. I'll have my graduation with my other class that's finished their 1 year and I'll tell them what I've told you today.  I'll tell them that they inspire me and help to me grow in ways that they may never realize.  I'll tell them that they are resilient human beings ready to conquer anything that comes their way.  And then I'll wish, and hope, and maybe even pray, that they truly do succeed and that I don't hear that their struggles have continued after they've gone through this life changing program.

Oh yeah, that's why. (Calgary, Canada)

Well after a day of ups and downs, which included going to a doctor again who suggested I may have a viral infection of some sort, getting blood work done (I hate needles), a volunteer job interview for a position working as a gay men's support group facilitator , I ended it with my first cultural diversity workshop in over a year. Ahhh, it was like riding a bike. Felt as comfortable up there as ever. As I listened to some of the comments in the classroom, and as I gave my little inspirational talks, I remembered why I love my job. I needed that as a boost to keep me going for the next while. Nothing beats having a class in front of you, ears perked, eager to be inclusive, eager to make change in this somewhat down trodden world of ours.

Taken Nov. 4 2012 by my coworker and friend, Amanda by the Leighton Art Centre. (Uploaded after the post was written).  

The Plateau (Calgary, Canada)

After a small hiatus, I've decided to just keep going, keep writing.  I think in my head, my mental and emotional brain, I've told myself that my adventure, my journey is over. And is it? Not really, although my new-old life seems to pale in comparison to my 53 weeks of traveling.

Taken in Miami, my last stop before Calgary. 

So where to start? I've been home sick for nearly a full week, but have thankfully gone out a little here and there, even to work. Gee, I've been back to my old job for only 2 weeks and have already had to take two sick days. Strep throat sucks and I think all this seclusion is making me go nutty. Then again, perhaps all this time alone at home is a good thing for me. It's the most I've been at home ever since I've returned to Canada.

Returning home to Canada I knew was going to be rough, I had these expectations already. Living at home with my mother and my brother is something I'm no longer accustomed to, seeing as though I've lived on my own (or with my ex) for the last 12 or so years. I feel somewhat jailed, exiled in the South East of Calgary, haunted by childhood memories as I drive, walk, and run through my neighborhood. I wonder if I'm the only one of my childhood friends that still lives around here. I wonder if I can grab my bike and ride up to their homes, ring the doorbell and ask if they can come out and play. I wouldn't mind it actually. I wouldn't mind a friend that lives close by. But no, the majority of my friends are living inner city, or with their families in their big houses somewhere in the burbs. But not here.

Everything seems so anti-climactic. The dream should have continued on. I should be in Brazil or Africa by now. But no, I am at my old job, in the same position, in the same office, with the same phone number, email, and contacts. Where's the challenge? Where's the adventure? What exactly is the next part of my journey? I feel like I have regressed. I feel like I have awaken from a coma, I wake up and it is simply just a different date on the newspaper heading, everything seems quite familiar but just a bit weary to me.

Where do I go from here? How do I continue to go up? Am I traveling through a plateau?

Oh, and then there's the fact that I'm single. Traveling and being single was cool. Living life in one spot on my own, well that is something I am having to re-adjust to as well.  The gay community in Calgary is small, conservative, and almost non-existent it seems. Okay, I exaggerate a little, but in comparison to big cities like Lima, Bogota, Medellin, Buenos Aires, or even Montreal, Vancouver and Toronto, Calgary is a faint attempt.

Well, let that set the tone for entries to come. Will I go up, will I go down? Or will I just simply continue to plateau?

Last Days (Capurganá, Colombia)

I wrote this on August 5th but never posted it because my homecoming was a surprise. Reading it make me sad...



Well, I've only got 8 days left in South America and I feel sad and remorseful. There is so much more to do here. So many more people meet and experiences to be had. Ironically, I never want to go out and look for them, procrastinator until the very end I suppose.

I remember my last weeks in South East Asia, sitting in a beach in Thailand, relaxing. I was ready to go home. I've said it so many times in the last 4 months or so that I'm ready, but now that the time is near, I have my doubts. I think about what is to come, and I have anxiousness and fear. What will happen to me? What will become of my new life? My independence? My new language?

It has been a challenge these last five weeks, being surrounded by my friends, constantly at my side. Perhaps it's because I've accustomed myself to being alone; one of the goals of this trip. As well, perhaps it's because these friends know the old Dean, and I've had to struggle being two different Deans in front of them. I miss meeting new people and being whomever I want to be. I ask again, what will become of me once I return to my old world filled with old friends, family, and colleagues. I dread the thought.

Me & Emilie taking the plunge in Capurgana. 

Nothing Changes (Calgary, Canada)

What am I going to do for the next month before I go back to work? Did I come home too early? I miss traveling.

Romantic Evening (Capurganá, Colombia)

I just spent a gorgeous evening, on the balcony of my hostel overlooking the Caribbean ocean, listening to the calming waves crash in and out on the shore, while the moon, somewhat softened by the clouds, shone onto the water leaving a glowing reflection. In the background I was accompanied by the likes of Diana Krall, Frank Sinatra, Ray Charles, and Natalie Cole to name a few. And most importantly, I spent it with the person I love the most in this world, myself! I cradled myself almost to sleep in the hammock and thought peaceful things as I swayed back and forth. Sometimes I really love my life and I try to be grateful for these little things that make it so rich. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Northern Tip of South America (Santa Marta, Colombia)

Yesterday, after a two hour boat ride, a one hour jeep ride, a 90 minute car ride, a three hour bus, and a taxi, we arrived back to Santa Marta. We came from Punta Gallinas, the most northern tip of South America, in the deserts Colombia along the carribbean coastline. So many people told us that it's not possible to get there on our own, and that a guided tour is better, but thanks to my friend Emilie, we got there with hardly any problems. We spent two nights in Cabo de la vela and two nights in Punta Gallinas. It was really gorgeous up there, we slept in hammocks three out of the four nights, and saw the stars above us. We reached a sand dune one day and swam in the ocean as once we ran down the billowy piles of almost white sand. It truly was mesmerizing the view from there. Melissa and I sat and reminisced and discussed life, as we once did in India on a mountain in the himalayas. Awww... moments like this want to make me keep travelling forever.

I miss Mike, I wish he was with us on this leg of the adventure. He got along really well with the girls, and we all had such a great time together. Soon Melissa will be returning to Montreal, and it will only be Emilie and myself. This time we will try to make it to the beaches on the farthest point West of Colombia, close to the Panama border, also on the unbeaten path...