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Healthy Living: Reverse modelling

We don’t remember how the world looked, sounded, smelled, tasted or felt like when we were two years old. Our five senses were forming and growing with every eye-widening moment.
Robert Skender Powell River

We don’t remember how the world looked, sounded, smelled, tasted or felt like when we were two years old. Our five senses were forming and growing with every eye-widening moment.

There was a brand new universe of exciting experiences that needed exploring. Putting the solid red square into the right spot inspired wide celebratory smiles and laughter all round.

There are lessons we can learn from the laughter and attitude of young people, innocent and inquisitive parts of ourselves that we lose somewhere along the journey. We might be able to find them again in the long and winding road of life.

My story involves years of self-medicating untreated mental illness with alcohol and drugs. I was in a overall place where any laughter was an inauthentic attempt to mask a catastrophically messed up situation.

It’s a place where a lot of people can, on different levels, relate with unfortunately. The situation can seem irredeemable and impossible to fix: a write-off.

Almost a couple years ago, I was mid process in trying to fix my sputtering and broken situation. After living in the healing environment of Maple Ridge Treatment Centre for a short time, I returned home to Powell River with a metaphorical toolbox full of useful tools to repair the many parts of myself in need of serious work.

My partner, her two-year-old grandchild and I were walking along the Willingdon Beach trail on a breezy blue late September afternoon. Her grandchild walked ahead of us, recklessly testing her brand new skill of walking. I watched nervously as she fearlessly bounded about with a smile that brightened the faces of everyone in her vicinity.

Her generosity of spirit and abundant positive energy fuelled our pleasant day as we ambled past the campground toward the oceanside park. She was obviously excited about the new independence that walking, waddling and sometimes falling gave her. When falling she, without a second of hesitation, quickly got up and continued on her happy stream of brand new sensory experiences.

At that moment in my life I was finding guidance and helpful instruction from my learned psychiatrist and, also, my counsellor. I had the good fortune to have a partner who was, and still is, loving and stubborn enough to help reassemble all the broken parts that make up a seriously self-damaging addict.

We approached the road, so I held my partner’s grandchild’s hand as the dangers in our environment increased with the machinery of transit rumbling nearby.

At that moment I realized my journey had some similarities with this hyper-energetic and infinitely inquisitive two year old. Everything, to the smallest detail, was freshly unpacked and brand new in her world. Things that I considered mundane were fascinating and the source of happiness.

For me, the new perspective of sobriety has a sense of a newness in everything, similar to having a child's view.

Her little hand pulled me away from the traffic toward the playground for more serious exploration of this bright new world. We all turned toward the ocean and it was obvious this two year old and her innocent and enthusiastic point of view was the teacher and we followed her instruction.

I still have a lot to learn but, as I was taught, the process should include time for some play.

Robert Skender is a Powell River freelance writer and health commentator.