Chapter Twenty Eight:
Hardisty, Alberta
In 2012, I went to a doctor, a general practitioner, on a regular basis, in Vancouver, to continue receiving my prescriptions. He would write me a prescription every few weeks, but he was not knowledgeable about mental illness, or OCD. I complained that I still had OCD despite taking 40 mg of Paxil daily and doing ERP (Exposure and Response Prevention Therapy). By this time I had been taking Paxil for ten years. He suggested that I see a specialist for a “consultation” and so, I did, with the hope that I might take a new medication and experience a profound difference of absence of symptoms. The specialist suggested that I try Annafril, because it was the drug “originally designed for OCD.” I agreed to take it. It caused me to be extremely sleepy and lethargic but It didn’t stop my OCD. Waking up for work was suddenly extremely demanding and even if I went to bed early, I fell asleep in just seconds. Annafril also caused me to feel sluggish, making manual labor feel much harder than normal.
Following the phone call from the union rep, I took a job at the Vancouver airport for a big construction company. The job was short, but I was told that if I did well on it, it would lead to more work. I threw myself at the work, working hard and fast. It was a demolition job and I was hired to to labour. It was a night shift job which was tougher than it should have been because of the Annafril.
I had learned a great deal about working hard over the years. Out by Hungry Hill, I started out helping my dad when I was just a small boy. I used to go and help dad on his various projects, and he would usually have me driving the odd nail, or holding things for him when he made cuts of wood or when he was nailing things together. I learned quickly when his patience would wear thin and he’d be short with me. Lot’s of times dad would be okay with me wandering off and playing or exploring by myself when we were at the lake, or on the farm, but as I grew older, and he started to pay me once in a while, I began to realize that in order to get paid you had to be physically (and preferably) also mentally present on the job, and then, I gathered, that time and speed definitely mattered with work. Sometimes if I missed a nail too many times, dad would snatch the hammer from me and pound it in! And then we would go on with the job, as if nothing had happened….
Lots of times, when I was a kid, when there was a project going on, I would take note of it, but not really be interested in what was being built, or why it was being built. I didn’t ask too many questions because dad was busy with his tasks and he didn’t like to work and talk, at least in my early years. When he was working, Dad always focused on his goal and generally, worked steadily. Dad had quite a few projects over the years. He kept honey and leafcutter bees, and he also built the cabin at Swearing lake. I accompanied him on a lot of his trips building and working on his side projects. Of course, he had a full time job all the while, at the Canadian National Railroad.
By and by, as I got older and more physically capable, while growing up, I learned the value of work and money. You appreciate a twenty dollar bill a lot more, if you have to work for it, diligently, for two, three, or four hours! Work didn’t always revolve around money either…, when dad was plucking ducks after hunting, he would work very earnestly, plucking methodically and in a kind of urgent manner. I guess if he didn’t do it that way the birds would never get finished. Dad usually worked with a sense of urgency, and he would get a little frustrated if I didn’t follow suit. This was to be a great blessing for me later on in life. I knew how a good worker worked. I knew what it was like to get down on my hands and knees and get dirty. It didn’t matter how you looked or what your opinions were, when it came to physical work, it only mattered how well you could work steadily, and for how long, without needing rest. And, finally, how good of a job you did.
At the Vancouver airport I worked as hard as I could. Some of my coworkers craftily tried to dodge out of the work. One always notices that right away. I never ever did that. I just went straight for the hardest work. It seemed like more work to try to avoid work! The boss noticed everything too and he liked how I worked.
After about a week of work the job came to an end. I was told that there was more work on a project in Saskatchewan. It was true. A few days later, I got a call offering me a job with a live out allowance, and a travel allowance as well as a wage starting at about 20$ per hour. I said I would take it. The boss on the phone seemed concerned about hiring me. “Is this your first industrial job?” he asked, sounding unsure….
“ No,” I told him. “I’ve been working in shoring and excavation for the last 9 months. I know how to be safe,” I asserted, “plus I grew up helping my dad with all kinds of work,...”
I started listing examples of safe behavior, like, making eye contact with an equipment operator and waiting for acknowledgement before going out in front of the machine. He hesitated,….After a few anxious moments, He agreed to hire me. I thought for a minute I wasn’t going to get the job…,so I was very relieved.
I left for the town of Hardisty, Alberta, a couple of weeks later. I bought an old car, and I packed my bags. How was my mental health? How were my resentments? The truth? I worried about things constantly…! I had a lot of trouble relaxing. I didn’t really think that I could relax. And as mentioned earlier, and this is extremely important, the experts were advocating that I not focus on relaxation techniques,.... Topping it all off, I felt terribly sluggish.
I worried about stuff at home and the location and safety of things. The safety of things (guns, ammunition because I liked that stuff and identified with it a lot) but also about things like my furnace, and the plugins in the wall as well as power lines and gas lines and any potential imaginary occurrences that could be thought of as possibly somehow causing property damage or personal injury. Sometimes while I was away, I would ask my wife to text me photos of things in an attempt to lessen my anxiety. I would also get very anxious while getting ready to leave the house for work. Was the coffee pot off? How about the stove? Always, … worries about something…. Even though I got into a big construction job. I still experienced obsessive compulsive disorder, but as long as it didn’t interfere with my work,..., nobody really cared.
The type of work I was given was to help pipefitters line up large diameter and long pipes on a pipe rack, by pulling them with different mechanical devices. I also went to get tools for them, and I sometimes was given the task of housekeeping which entailed picking up garbage and straightening things up, neatly, all over site. The site was a very big oil tank farm where millions of gallons of oil were being stored and then piped by pipeline to various locations across North America. I was one of the few laborers on site. This meant straightening up lumber or timbers into neat piles, and picking up small garbage or pallets. I was instructed to push a wheelbarrow and carry a bucket or a garbage bag, as well as a garbage picker and I was also instructed to use a radio and call a “zoom boom” (telehandler) or a skid-steer to come and pick up heavier items whenever I found them. In truth, there were hazards out on the job, and you had to look out for the hazards, and try to put controls in place so that you didn’t end up being injured by them. Safety was the top priority for the companies that I worked for, and there was a great deal of emphasis put on the recognition and the elimination of job hazards at all times. I saw that right away, and bought into that paradigm immediately. After all, I knew that injuries could happen all too easily, because I had been injured a few times as a kid while working and while playing, and I had seen the dangers of the Shoring job, first hand,..., so I wanted to be safe. But in truth I was also safe because I was driven by a deep preoccupation with blame and anxiety, and I wanted to prevent those two things from happening.
This job was my first time seeing many things. I hadn’t ever been around welding, or cranes and rigging and hoisting. One day we had a staff bbq. While I was eating, I began to worry that the propane for the bbq was not shut off properly…. I felt so anxious and compelled to say something, even though I knew that my feelings were the result of OCD. I awkwardly began speaking to the Safety Officer:
“You know, I feel really stupid saying this,” I began,.... “I have OCD…, and I am obsessing that the bbq might still be on…,” I quietly explained,.... I felt stupid, but also compelled to say it. The safety officer listened and reassured me it was ok. I was lucky he was so kind. There were many times when I wanted to say something, but I didn’t because I had the stamina to resist and because I knew the boss would be very angry. Remember that I had already spent years battling OCD, and I knew that the expert’s opinion was to always try to not do the compulsion…
As we neared the end of the Hardisty job, I was talking to the site superintendent, and he said to me, regarding my status on whether or not I would be going onto the next job:
“Well, no Kiddin’ Jess, you’re going to Saskatoon! That’s a hundred grand a year! Whaddya think ? Huh? That’s big money Jess!”
“ I’m going?” I asked?
“Yeah.” He said smiling,“you’re a good worker.”
I relaxed and breathed a deep sigh of satisfaction and relief…. I guess all that time helping my father, while growing up, had paid off. It was nice to be told that I was a good worker, it never got old!
I got transferred to Saskatchewan where there was a large job going on near the town of Vanscoy at the Agrium Potash mine. I was assigned a job as a night shift labourer. I was still anxious, but life was made worse because of the sluggishness that my medication, Annafril, was causing. That night shift was particularly tough. I’d work all night with thoughts bouncing around the walls of my mind much of the time. I thought way more than I ever hoped to. One night I thought of the names of certain rifle calibers and the history behind each one, about which I had read in an article - “ what did I read in that article?” Sometimes, if I couldn’t remember something perfectly, it would really bother me, and I would feel anxious. That night, I got on the bus for the ride home, and unable and unwilling to tolerate the discomfort of the anxiety I went on the internet and began fact checking (compulsions), I would win the battle, but I was losing the war.
That I was losing the war, was the Elephant in the room. I was losing the war. OCD WAS DESTROYING ME. I didn’t want to accept it, but it was staring me directly in the face! With each compulsion that I gave into I was being defeated. I’d walk through the buildings trying to solve the questions my mind asked me…, sweeping the floors, picking up garbage .. It seemed highly unfair to me, that some people were not working due to disabilities, and they were likely not suffering to the degree that I was. It was infuriating to be in that situation. I had moved my family across the world, and stopped working as an English teacher to try to stop my OCD, but it hadn’t been effective! It was my unfortunate truth. I hadn’t successfully changed my brain. I was so very sad. So sad…. I was beyond frustrated. I was beyond depressed. I didn’t talk to my parents much because I was angry at them. I felt I couldn’t talk to anyone. I was completely alone. I was exhausted and demoralized, and I had little idea what to do. Was the solution to read more about ERP? Accept the uncertainty? I had been doing that. … I was very worried about my future….
The job at the mine (Vanscoy town, Agrium potash mine) was ok…. I stayed in Saskatoon and rode out to the site every morning on the bus. I met many nice people, but I also met some people who didn’t like me.
I had applied to get indentured as a millwright apprentice. I chose millwright, because it was mechanical, and it was really not what I was good at, but drastic times called for drastic measures and it was a part of the ERP plan. I had little knowledge about mechanics. I barely considered welding, because I was intimidated by it. The bright arc, the electricity, plus I had heard that the smoke was highly carcinogenic and there was the aspect of pressurized gasses and all of the responsibility involved with being safe with that, if I did try to become a welder …., well, in any case they weren’t offering welder apprenticeships on that job. I chose millwright and got accepted into the program. It must be noted here, that I was seriously considering the welding program, but I was told that welding was not an option on that site.
I got pulled into the millwright crew in January 2014. A millwright is an Industrial Mechanic. They perform all kinds of duties including construction and maintenance of entire mechanical systems. It was good news on the surface. I was going to work on OCD! I was learning about mechanical systems and tools and principles and techniques. I was changing myself and there was the appearance of advancement, but the more things changed, the more they stayed the same….. I continued thinking AND OBSESSING about all manner of issues, and I continued to be anxious….
I used to stay with an aunt and uncle who lived in Saskatoon, for the two weeks of work that I had, then my uncle Dave would give me a ride to the airport and I would catch a flight back to Vancouver for my week off. I was lucky as my aunt and uncle were very good to me, offering me a great many considerations and kindnesses.
These days were a time of consistency and I loved making ample money to pay all of our bills, and have some left over money for dinners outside as a family during my week off and then to have some money still left for saving,.....
I resigned myself to my life of doubts and anxieties. I would be working in Saskatchewan and I would think of a propane torch back at home that might somehow explode or about a shotgun that I had that I had cleaned years ago and was it going to be impervious to rust?,… and there were so many worries that I had dealt with from my tab, yet they reappeared, and begged me for my attention, again, and again….
I continued plodding along. I continued trying to implement my plan. I would strive to make the therapeutic choice,( the most anxiety provoking option) …, but it was extremely difficult. This added, greatly, to my shame and frustration.
There were all kinds of people at the job, from all over Canada and the world. I took my job very seriously, especially the safety aspect. I always dreaded being somehow to blame for some aspect of an accident, should it ever occur, at work, because I imagined that with my OCD, I would be plagued by recurring guilt and anxiety that would be intolerable, and therefore I made every effort to be extra safe and to never take chances. That was a little bit counter to what my original plan was. My original plan was to take more risks and challenge myself and OCD, but I didn’t want to push things and then get injured or see someone else injured. That was my own choice, I know, and an ERP specialist would probably have told me as much. They would have probably asked me, how badly I wanted to get better, but I didn’t care. I didn’t take risks with safety on the job. That didn’t sit well with some of the people at work. It was hard for me to always do the right thing and please everyone. I was noticing all kinds of safety infractions happening and I feared an incident was looming. One day in particular, a guy was welding, unbeknownst to me, up a few floors, directly above me and the journeyman with whom I was working, and huge globes of molten metal came cascading down, without warning, striking the concrete floor right next to my boots. I looked up and saw a welder about three stories up. He hadn’t prepared his work area properly, he hadn't taped off the area directly below, or communicated with us so nobody could enter the danger zone and now my partner and I were directly in the line of fire, and the welder didn’t seem to care,... at all….
I was growing leery. I wanted to not succumb to OCD, and instead to take risks, to live with uncertainty,…, but, I also wanted to do the right thing. I didn’t want to be injured on the job, but there were many people who didn’t really seem to care. I had an altercation with one tradesman one time, when he made a careless mistake and turned on an air compressor when the hoses were not properly secured, and the noise was deafening and he had given no warning of what he was about to do…. He didn’t care that I might be injured or my hearing might be severely damaged. He never even thought of it!
I confronted him. He argued with me, cursing me and my “uptight” attitude, he told me to go and …. F**** myself. After that he would always make a point of trying to be rude or to make things more awkward than they needed to be.
This was a common occurrence. Not my getting involved, but rather people not caring about what they were doing. They didn’t care enough, and, maybe, I cared too much. Still, I clashed with many of the people on site.
***. ****. ******
The mob mentality is scary. Take a number of people and throw them together in a school or a job site or any social setting- and it’s “Lord of the Flies” all over again.
Most people in society yearn to fit in, and by “fit in” I mean be accepted by their peers or at least, not ostracized or criticized by them. The group itself is composed of people who crave acceptance and fear rejection and whose moral standpoints are the mere echoes of what they think their friends’ moral standpoints are, and individuality is a rare trait and is often frowned upon and taken as a challenge by the mob. Groups of workers team up on whoever doesn’t abide by their codes of conduct, their social mores., etc….
In junior high school I remember being taught about “peer pressure” as if it was a phenomenon that was exclusive to younger people! Peer pressure is rampant throughout every age strata in society. It never ever ends. There is peer pressure in every social situation, …. It’s ironic on so many levels. Parents tell their children not to succumb to peer pressure but they themselves are succumbing to it, it is lurking everywhere, and that includes construction sites….
I tried my best to navigate the turbulent waters of fitting in with my peers and being vigilant with safety and managing my OCD. I was maybe not approaching safety in the most therapeutic way (vis a vis OCD), because I didn’t take risks at work. I always tried to be as safe as possible. This backfired on me at the potash mine, and I got run off site (bullied off site). Here’s how it happened:
One day, while working in the big processing building, I noticed the smell of liquor on a man standing close to me. I was exhausted with all the stress of everyday life and I was tired of people not caring about the consequences of their actions. I wanted justice. Why was it me who followed the rules and worried so much and had OCD? It was totally unfair that I had to even go to work at all, with my mental health as it was. But, not only did I have to go to work, I had to go to work for 14 days straight, and do all the things that a person without OCD had to do! This sense of injustice was ripe within me and starting to overflow,..., in other words, I was setting to take new actions.
When I smelled the liquor I thought about my options. I felt I had to take some kind of action. I went to a foreman and told him that there was a guy who smelt of liquor and I thought safety personnel should be asked to go over and talk to the man, and determine whether they could smell or not smell any alcohol on him. If they couldn’t smell any alcohol, they could simply walk away, and no one would be the wiser. If they did smell alcohol, they could discuss the situation with the person of interest and take the appropriate actions.
How naive I had been to go to a foreman about that problem! The foreman was immediately against my initiative. He didn’t want any kind of intervention, and he told me I was creating a huge mess! He took me to the office and wrote a statement. I wanted him to keep it confidential. If the man had not been drinking, then the safety officer wouldn't need to do anything at all, and everyone could go on with their respective day, but the foreman took steps to make sure that would never happen. The foreman told whoever he wanted that I was a “rat.” Everyone was talking about it and safety never even spoke to me about anything. There were so many people on site, I never saw the person of interest again. I immediately became the subject of ridicule among dozens of workers. I instantly regretted taking any action! What was happening was unmistakable: I had good intentions of preventing any kind of incident and of trying to uphold a safety culture while not getting myself in a confrontational situation (I still hated confrontation) but the supervisor in question had decided to make my life difficult because he didn’t believe in what I was doing by bringing up the alcohol smell to the official level. Here again, officialdom and authority was failing me. Authority was failing me with my OCD treatments and medications, and authority, (foreman at work) were failing me by breaching confidentiality and pitting my work peers against me.
I began to get really angry, and when I say really angry, I mean, really, genuinely, furious. It wasn't a feeling where I was a little annoyed with someone or frustrated, it was a deep multilayered fury that had a long history and the events that added up together to comprise my fury dated back to things I had been told as a boy, by teachers, by family members and by co workers. You see, everyone was perhaps “meaning well” but they were either unwilling or unable to do their jobs, which was to act appropriately in the situation and to do their jobs professionally and competently, and the person who was being affected by these people’s slip ups and shortsightedness and errors in judgement was,... ME! I was the one who had to bear the brunt of the aggressive and rude remarks by the family members, and the co workers, and I was the one who had to continually sit with the recurring thoughts and highly disturbing feelingseven though I was going to the doctor, and taking medications. I was still sick, and what was with that? The theory of what was supposed to happen was not happening at all…. Everything was supposed to be getting better! I was tired of taking the “high road,” or in other words, doing the right thing. If bosses or family members didn't have to do the right thing, then why, pray tell, did I have to?
The other elephant in the room was that I was noticing that people who were either knowingly or unknowingly not doing what they were supposed to be doing, either in the doctor’s offices, or at work or in family situations, they were living their lives and they were not being questioned by me about their mistakes or their ineptitudes. They were being given a free pass. Instead of me addressing their ineptitude, or shortsightedness, I always had, up to that point, chosen to be polite and respectful and avoid any kind of awkward conversations. I didn't discuss the “elephant in the room.” I wasn’t supposed to. It was something that was just avoided. To do that, to speak to peoples’ shortcomings or offensive behaviour, was something I had always refrained from doing. But Why was I always trying to spare people hard feelings when they were not trying to spare me hard feelings? The fight was unredeeming, and I was getting fed up with it.
My frustration meter was on the extreme edge. I quit the good paying job at the potash mine because I felt terribly going into work everyday because a few people hated me. The discomfort was too much. I was beginning to want to see certain people held accountable. I began to think about it daily. How certain individuals had been wrong, and how that had affected me. Why shouldn’t I just tell them how I felt? What good did it do to keep that anger bottled up?
Now I had quit the job, and taken my first Millwright class but more adversity was coming my way. I was unknowingly headed straight for three months of a hell I never dreamt existed, not in a million years. But before I tell you about that, we need to rewind to an event that happened in the summer of 2014. It involved a conversation with a friend. That conversation stung, and I was affected very much in a negative way and I took action, and my blood boiled in fury the likes of which I had never felt before,....