Halfway House Honeymoon.

It was Saturday October 6th, 1984, our wedding ceremony and reception had gone well. My wife and I could be very proud of our accomplishment. Our ceremony had been a bittersweet occasion. Amazing the emotional ripple effect that can be caused by the outrageous inhumanity of one sad little man. For this sad little man, a man who could manipulate the vulnerable, a man who posed as my wife's father, received no invite. Through all the sad confusion and ongoing mind games, my wife's mother and one sister felt obliged not to attend. How sad. How very painful.

Undaunted and strong in our unity, we were determined that this would be a celebration of our resilient love for each other. This lady who had gone through so much horror and emotional torment in her life was now my wife. A memorable wedding for all the right and wrong reasons, was drawing to a conclusion.

We got into our car and drove off, passing by St. Andrew's church (pictured), Fort Langley, British Columbia, where only a few short hours before, we had exchanged vows and told the world of our love. We were not alone in our car. For her two other sisters were passengers in a car that was heading towards a destination that would mark all our lives forever.

So on that night, the night of our new beginning, we headed to her sister's new temporary home. Two confused, deeply traumatised teenagers were being driven to a secret location. Soon we arrived at the 'halfway house' (safe house). Over the next two weeks this would be their home. A place where children who had been mistreated, abused, undermined and neglected could discover some form of sanctuary. A place of hope for children in what must have seemed a hopeless world.

In the early hours of the next day, my wife and I said our goodbyes. We had experienced such poignant moments of deep sadness and resilient determination. These children and her two sisters were significant inspiration in my life. As we headed off to our hotel, I made a commitment that I would be a supportive and loving brother-in-law to my wife's little sisters.

By the time we got to our hotel, it was almost time to head off to Vancouver airport. Exhausted, we boarded the plane that would to take us to Los Angeles, California. After a brief stay in Los Angeles, we continued on to our honeymoon destination. For the next two weeks we took in the sights, the sounds, the culture of Cancun, Mexico. We made the most of our honeymoon. I know, despite all the thoughts of what we were going back too, we were determined to experience the wonders of the Yucatan Peninsula. The ancient Mayan ruins of Tulum, set on cliffs overlooking the turquoise waters of the Caribbean Sea, has been strongly etched into my memory. A most memorable honeymoon, with so many extremes, had drawn to a conclusion.

Upon returning to Vancouver, we went to the halfway house and took her two sisters away to our beautiful home in Langley, British Columbia. This would be the beginning of a fresh start for them and hopefully for all of us. For not only was I now their brother-in-law, I was now their foster father. I tried so hard to be a good brother-in-law and a kind, respectful foster father. I like to think that, somehow, I have helped them to have a better, happier life.

The ripple effect of one man had defined the lives of many. The anguish and despair perpetrated by one man, by an evil monster, has, even after so many years, left emotional scars on those of us directly involved.

I am divorced now. What had once united us, destroyed us. Why did it have to be this way? I am confused and deeply saddened over the events from the past. Somehow, I know that I must move on. Yes my heart is broken, I wish I could tell her that I always cared. This blog is the beginning of my closure of a painful chapter in my life.

Heavy Mental.

There is an irony about having mental health issues that has taken quite the toll on me lately. I am involved with others who have their own mental health concerns. Sometimes their issues almost overwhelm me. So instead of being good for my own mental health, they can actually be detrimental. I thought that empathy, being such a powerful force, would help them and help me. Oh how wrong I can be. My positive outlook has been severely challenged.
Yet, despite this, I realise just how far I have come and how far I have to go. Not that long ago, I would have succumbed to such perplexing negativity. I would have thought: 'To hell with this, I'm going back under my duvet.' I know I've got my own life to live. I must not allow the issues of others to dominate my life. I must not absorb the anger and the hostility I have witnessed recently. For if I do, my anxiety and depression, will kick in, big style. I am determined to stay strong.
So I wish to end this rather short blog on a most positive note. Just when you think that negative forces wil destroy your positive intentions; look beyond and you will notice people who will support you through the trying times. I have found support through a very tough time. That has given me a renewed sense of purpose.
As I did this blog, I was listening to the new Metallica C.D. I guess you could call it 'heavy metal'. What I experienced lately might be called 'heavy mental'.

A Conspiracy Theory?

I have a theory that conspiracy theories may be a conspiracy by people who write about conspiracy theories to sell more books about conspiracy theories. Conspiring, conspiracy theory writers? Then again, this is just a theory. I wouldn't want conspiracy theory writers conspiring against me and starting a conspiracy theory about me...to sell more books about conspiracy theories.
So there I was, strolling down the street in the pouring rain. Loaded down with carrier bags after another long trek to the shops. As I walked along, drenched from head to toe, I heard the oncoming roar of an automobile. The dude in a gas-guzzling beast of a car pulled over and said to me: "You know you should really try to use less carrier bags. We all need to do our bit to save the environment."
Now then, speaking of the old dog versus cat debate. Guide dog, police dog, sheepdog ( no, it turns out, that it aint part sheep, part dog), watchdog (no that isn't some terrier wearing a timepiece) and ofcourse we have the sniffer dog (don't ask). Guide cat? Well no. Police cat? I don't think so. Sheepcat? Cats hurding sheep? You're having a laugh. Watchcat? More like: 'watch cat' rip up your rubbish and shit in your vegetable patch. Sniffer cat? Oh yeah they sniff alright. Sniffing around for food. 'Hey you useless human, where the hell is my meal?' Meow...
Once again, I leave you with a couple of random musings. Some of what I am about to write may be true, some may not. You decide. This American dude walked up to me and asked for directions. "Excuse me sir? Could you tell me how to get to 'Li cester'?" I told him that it was pronounced "Lester." "That sure is funny" he replied. "It aint said the way it's spelt. We wouldn't talk that way back in Little Rock!" "Little Rock, that's in 'Ar kan sas'?" I asked. "No man!" He said. "It's pronounced 'Ar kan saw'!" I overheard a woman in a supermarket state the following to the person she was with: "I need chicken breasts." Hey, whatever.
To be honest, I think that people who say 'to be honest' are perhaps not telling the truth. To be honest. You know, I hate it when people keep saying 'you know'. Well, guess what? Maybe I don't know, you know? So, to be honest, you know, this blog may have been all part of some conspiracy theory. Over to you conspiracy theory writers.