Chapter Thirty One:
Jodichar
The days of doom began to slowly, ever so slowly, over the weeks and then months, begin to dissipate…. I had never imagined that it was possible to feel that ill. I spent a large amount of time scouring the internet for articles about what it was that I was experiencing. Apparently, when a person stops taking certain antidepressants, too suddenly, or, when he or she takes too much too fast after tapering off,..., this condition could happen. People had all kinds of stories written about their similar experiences. The internet is full of them. They recommended trying ginger tea, for the nausea, and one guy said that strangely, the only thing that could have any positive effect on his nausea was jogging, very slowly, kind of like a walk/run shuffle. I tried it. It was really uncomfortable. I felt hideous. I had no sexual libido, nor any appetite for food. There was just a constant nausea and anxiety and cold and insomnia for about 3 months. I dreaded that these symptoms would never stop, and that I would be looked upon by everyone as a failure….
Then, one day, the phone rang and it was Sean from the company. We chatted about my work absence. I assured him (while secretly feeling extremely apprehensive) that I did want to go back to work pretty soon, even though I was worried that I would have another episode,..., but I didn’t say it that way,....
“Maybe it’s time to get back on the horse, Jesse…?'' he said.
My mind reeled, in terror but I tried to be calm. I thought of the last night I had stayed in camp. That horrible night was so fresh in my memory, and it terrified me. The anxiety, the alienation, the feeling of being trapped…. Once you experience something like that, the memory is in and of itself, a source of trauma. I never wanted to feel that way again. I was very apprehensive. I was hesitant to agree to go back but I decided to accept the suggestion and to return to work.
A few days later I went back to work. I worried constantly, on the job, at home, and in camp. I worried about guns being somehow unsafe, and accidents that could potentially happen at work, and, I also worried about memories that couldn’t be recalled with 100% certainty. Sometimes if I couldn’t recall something perfectly, I would worry that I would never be able to relax again, unless I knew the answer to my mind’s query. I worried about electrical cords on the job, that they might get damaged and hurt someone…. I imagined extremely unlikely scenarios like dropped objects plummeting from high up on a scaffold, falling and killing a worker below, or other very unlikely incidents taking place…. I also would be hyper vigilant about my own work ethic thinking constantly “am I taking too long of a micro break or “Who’s watching me?” You never knew if a supervisor was watching, but I worried about everything to an absolutely ridiculous degree.
I was always thinking. About responsibilities, and unlikely scenarios, and about time and death and God (Aldous Huxley, Brave New World). The problem was that even highly unlikely scenarios or the inability to recall certain memories caused me to be extremely anxious. I can still experience the same phenomenon, but I haven’t for over two years, and overall things are changing drastically in my psyche,..., I am so grateful! Back to the time in question though, it pains me to say it, but my life was and for many years, had seemed, to be one big worry about responsibility and shame. I thought I had to do things. I had to be successful, safe, and a good person. Also, if anything threatened to make me appear irresponsible, or if it was conceivable that I could somehow be blamed or labeled as a bad person, then I would secretly obsess over it. This is something that is extremely important to note: there had been, for many years, a relentless thinking and fixation on duty and responsibilities. There was always the gnawing obsession that I wouldn’t be able to face blame or criticism if something bad happened and it was my fault (this is part of OCD).
Another point must be asserted right here and now; I generally found the idea of making a mistake very anxiety provoking, and I would do little things to get reassurance from people. Forget about the big obsessions, there were also the small and subtle, yet incredibly strong daily habits. It was all very similar to the traits that I had as a young boy, as a student, as was exemplified by my inability to tell any kind of lie, without extreme guilt, and my fear of criticism. Even a simple thing like the idea of being criticized by a foreman or a worker, weighed on me. I just hated the idea of any kind of potential criticism, almost as much as I thought I would hate actual criticism. This fear of imaginary suffering was a central idea. But to that point, as Paulo Coelho, author of “The Alchemist” puts it: “fear of suffering is worse than the actual suffering itself.” Yet I couldn’t stop my thinking about possible future suffering, this inability to stop the thoughts is a part of OCD. I would think things like:
“What if I couldn’t pay my bills
or,
what if I forgot to do something or absent mindedly did something and someone was hurt or killed…
What if I was accused of something? If if if if if if if- what then?? This was at the crux of it all, yet it was impossible to stop thinking of the imaginary “bad outcomes.” In many ways I think this aptly describes the mechanism of OCD. This and there was the fundamental misunderstanding of the nature of the mind and all thought,..., and I mistakenly believed that one could understand what is true. I now know that this is a mistaken belief and I no longer desire to think so much about anything, because ultimately, and this next statement may come as a very perplexing one, “all thought is ultimately imaginary. 1 ” For the purposes of this story, I will not take the time and effort to explain the above statement, but it is a fundamental pillar of truth that enables me to break away from the act of thinking,.... Perhaps in another writing I will explain that, but for now I must continue with the main story….
Now, the show had to go on,.... l worked as a labourer, again, at a facility under construction back at that same site, near Mackay River, in Northern Alberta, and I went back and forth between the main building and the red steel dumpsters and I sorted out all the trash from my wheelbarrow and swept up dust. I swept up huge piles of dust. It was hard because the dust would get airborne and I envisioned it going into my lungs. I had to sort out the garbage while throwing it out too…. The metals, and the plastics, the copper…. And all the while, as I did this menial work, I knew that I was obsessing about highly unlikely and absurd imaginings, and also, that I had the capability as a writer and a storyteller to sit down and compose a well received novel, with relative ease, (if I could just set my mind to doing it) and yet, there I was, sorting garbage, and working alongside of men who had come to Canada from different countries and had very poor command of the English language,..., and I had a ton of formal education, and a brilliant imagination, and that just added to my bewilderment and frustrations,....
There were no employment opportunities with the millwrights so I was on a labour crew, again…. even though I could have, I didn’t inquire as to why that was,..., I didn’t want the stress or conflict and I had given up on most people and promises of any kind. I suspected that there was a reason why I wasn’t being called to work as a millwright apprentice. I had, in no uncertain terms, told a couple of millwrights what I thought of them, and one of them was the son of a superintendent. The kid was arrogant and rude. I told him right to his face exactly what I thought of him,..., that he was a “fucking idiot.” There probably weren’t going to be any more millwright opportunities for me (I knew it in my heart). Oh well,... “I don’t care” I told myself, (but I really did,....) What was I going to millwright school for now, if I didn’t have a place at the company’s millwright department? It pointed to the fact that I would have to quit the company, sooner or later, and go to a new one and apply as a millwright apprentice with the new company. I didn’t want to, though,…, it would mean too many unknown variables, too many explanations to new people. I didn’t want to have to make that kind of effort and be subject to the anxiety of starting all over again.
I noticed, painfully, that most people, (like everyone around me) including my coworkers, were relaxed and well adjusted.They were normal. But how could I be sure? I couldn’t, but I guessed,--- no,----- I knew that they didn’t think about the stuff that I did…. I would stand there pretending to be busy and be actually striving to figure something out (ruminating compulsion) and they would be nonchalantly chatting about all kinds of things, and I,… Oh how I envied them! Just to be relaxed…, that’s all I wanted. I would worry about maddening things, kind of like I had done with HIV. There were so many intrusive thoughts,....
For instance, I had bought a rifle in 2012, and I had spent a great deal of time researching it before I bought it. I mean a great deal of time! The rifle was a semi-automatic and I read many articles about those rifles and also about other manufacturers and the similar rifles being produced by them. I read so many articles before I left Japan. I spent all of my free time reading about it. It was excessive, for sure, but before I bought a rifle I wanted to take away any and all chances that I would have any kind of doubts about it. I knew I had OCD, and I didn’t want to buy a new rifle and then get tormented by doubts about it. This same concept of trying to preemptively eliminate worries for the future, in general, was huge! I did not want worries or problems to arise in the future, so I told myself I was being “proactive” and “nipping” my worries in “the bud,” the obvious flaw in this thinking, however, was this type of “ proactivity,” was absolutely out of control, taking up all my conscious bandwidth, and leaving me living my thoughts rather than living life. I was spending all of my present moments trying to think of things that could potentially affect my happiness in the future, and I had no quality of life in the present…. But back to the rifle, and 2015….
I wanted to have a rifle that I never worried about. I read and read and then I finally bought a rifle, but one day in 2012, maybe a year after buying it, while reading articles, I stumbled across a topic that mentioned “service rifles.” The article talked about possible “slam fire” issues with certain “service rifles” (service rifles are rifles that were used in actual combat in actual wars), if you used modern ammunition…. My rifle wasn’t a service rifle but it was based on a military rifle from years earlier—- and then I had the “spike” idea (OCD thought-seed), although it was quite silly, that I had possibly made a mistake and unknowingly bought a service rifle- And when I was reading that article I was seized with the onset of panic, and I felt it building, the slow-motion wave of panic, welling up inside me, with a great crescendo, building and building like a massive wave, and I began to review in my head why “there was nothing to be scared about,” and as I did it, jolts of anxiety began shooting through my body and mind and the situation I had wanted to avoid at all costs began happening….! It was so …silly, unfair, embarrassing…. And it was so familiar,.... I felt so disappointed, mortified, disgusted, and betrayed. I didn’t want it to happen. But it was happening. The very thing I had been dreading. It happened. That was in 2012, but that process had befallen me hundreds of times before….
From then on, sometimes, I’d ruminate about that rifle, that it might be a certain kind of service Rifle and might slam-fire, even though the breech didn’t and couldn’t slam shut and I knew it wasn’t a service rifle. This happened with different subjects and topics. And there are too many to list…. If you have OCD, you know what I am referring to,....
As usual I’d try to expunge the thoughts from my head. I even made scripts on my cell phone, recorded, and listened to them. After the crisis of impending doom in 2015 I was thinking about all kinds of things, more than I had pre-crisis, and sometimes the rifle issue would come up. It was happening to me when I got back on the job in July of 2015. I felt so panicked. In those situations, when on a hard labour job it is a horrible, and torturous existence. I had read so many articles about managing OCD, and I knew I should not perform the compulsion of telling somebody about my worry, that I should choose the more anxiety-provoking solution, but it is so anxiety provoking, that it took up nearly all of my mental bandwidth…. In that scenario it is my contention that it is impossible to abstain from performing the desired compulsions, and I must point out that the vast majority of the literary narrative on OCD says that this failure to abstain from compulsive activity is a choice, but I disagree…. I disagree, I disagree, I disagree! I knew one supervisor from the previous job and I decided I would tell him about my worry- I pulled him aside and I told him, about my thoughts and the rifle, and that I was so perplexed. I knew that supervisor, Jason….. and he was kind to me… he reassured me saying “you know that’s not going to happen.” I thought about it, I knew it, but at the same time there was this terrible nagging feeling and thoughts (imaginings)…. I worked like that for one full hitch (14 days) and then another, in the dust and garbage, and then slowly, very slowly the thoughts began to vanish and with their disappearing, the anxiety that had accompanied them also slowly diminished.
(The solution was not in getting rid of guns either! I worried about light switches, natural gas lines, electrical cords, motor vehicles, diseases, sexual orientation, and more…. So don’t think that the guns were the problem,...they weren’t, and besides, I loved guns…., which is why I always worried about them;)
That time period had been adverse beyond words. That level of discomfort is the reason why many people with mental illnesses turn to drugs (and alcohol) and become homeless addicts, or commit suicide.
Still I continued working. I had booked my second block (six weeks of class and shop time) of Millwright school in Burnaby B.C, even though I knew I had very little chance of procuring work in that field with the company. Still, I thought it wise to go. In March of 2016 I began….
Millwright school was in March and April. I tried some welding in Millwright class and I was pleasantly surprised by it. Prior to that, I had been very afraid of welding,…, it was so foreign to me. I was thinking of switching from millwright to welding apprentice. I neared the finish of the millwright class and while I was still there, in class, the phone rang and it was the company that I had been working for.
They wanted to know if I would be willing to go back up North to a new job, but this time, again, like before, I would not be an apprentice, but rather a labourer, which was (in terms of my career) kind of like a step backwards. I was puzzled, seeing that I was now a “second year Millwright” but they were asking for me as a labourer….
People looked down on labourers— they thought of them as being lower than a tradesman. I knew that. I felt it. But I also knew that the work was honest and the money was real and even though I was trying to be more willing to stand up for myself, I still hated confrontation. I wanted to stay with the company, because they were decent to me and I was free of conflict. I didn’t want to go back out into the unknown where I didn’t know anyone, and I’d have to prove myself again. I wanted to prove my value to the company and have them really value me as a worker, so I would always have work, and would never have an issue finding a job.
I wanted above all else, to have no more OCD. I thought that if I was good enough to the company that they would, in turn, be good to me. I asked them if they really needed me and if they would remember that I was doing them a favour. They replied that they did, and that they would. I asked what the job was going to be, and the recruiter sounded serious when she said that this job was “unfortunately not a good one,” and “a really tough job.” She said that there was some fireproofing that had been applied to structural steel I-beams, and that the fire proofing had to be chipped off by hand…. I didn’t really know what that would look like but I listened attentively and said that I would go. If I could get the company in debt to me (I mistakenly imagined),….
Millwright school was over and I had finished my second of four blocks of study. By this time I had tried welding and I had realized what welding generally consisted of, and that I could do it! Welding involves a lot of heat and electricity and metals and a lot of processes and tools and compressed gases that can be potentially extremely dangerous. I saw this as an opportunity to expose myself to more anxiety, and possibly eradicate OCD from my mind. I envisioned a version of myself who was less sensitive and who was somehow cured of OCD. I wanted that. Maybe welding was my ticket to freedom? I had begun dropping the filter and sharing my true opinions and I was beginning to speak my mind. I took the labour job. I was willing to work. I would do the work, I just hoped that I would be rewarded in the end with more work, but I wanted to get a trade because I hated the feeling of being “just a labourer.”
The day came for me to fly out to the job. I had my bags all packed with my personal protective equipment and my personal items. You had to make sure you thought of everything that you would need, because when you got to camp, you couldn't really buy much. I was especially careful to pack my medication for OCD, because I thought and imagined another crisis in camp, and now, no matter what, I wanted to avoid that at all costs.
Packing was a kind of an art. You wanted to make sure you had all of your essential work clothes, so you felt good and you were comfortable so that you could work hard.
Packing was a kind of an art. You wanted to make sure you had all of your essential work clothes, so you felt good and you were comfortable so that you could work hard.
Dave and I sat on the plane and chatted all the way to the Fort McMurray airport, and then we de-planed and collected our bags and got on the bus to go to camp. When we arrived in Camp, we had already exchanged phone numbers and we made a plan to have supper together and then we went to our respective rooms and got settled in. Later, we met for supper. We went down to the camp cafeteria and it was large and clean with a big selection of foods to choose from,.... There was steak and ribs and chicken and fish,.... There was a menu from which we were allowed to order one entree and then we could choose our side dish which could either be yam fries or potato fries or mashed potatoes and then there was a couple of salad and soup buffets where we could help ourselves to soups and salads and all kinds of pickles and olives and fresh vegetables. There was also a cooler full of slices of pies and desserts too! Dave and I ate our suppers and we said our goodnights as we had to get our rest as tomorrow was the first full day of work, and who knew the difficulty of the task that we would be given? I knew instinctively that it was essential that I got a good night’s sleep so that I could be ready for whatever the day brought with it.
The next morning Dave and I saw each near the cafeteria and the area where the night shift buses arrived, where the night shift people would get off of the buses, stumbling in like zombies, and then we would board those same buses and we would ride for 25 minutes to the site. We waited for the buses and then we boarded one and sat down and rode out to site. At the gates to enter the site, the bus would stop and a security guard would get on the bus and scan each of our site identification cards. That was an everyday occurrence. We proceeded to the site on the bus and it took about 10 minutes to arrive at a place that was a series of roads and trailers with some huge scaffold towers built off in the distance about 300 meters away…. This site was massive. It was owned by a major oil company and the project budget was over 10 billion dollars! I was nervous. It was the first day, there were many unknowns, and I didn’t know where anything was. The bus came to a stop and everyone got ready to get off. Some guys looked relaxed and at ease, but I wasn’t,…. I took it all very seriously, like I was in the battle of my life, upon which, the fate of my wife and children rested! My turn to get off the bus came and I swiftly stood up and slung my pack on my shoulder and mindfully shuffled quickly down the aisle of the bus and off onto the sandy ground of the site. The sound of Van Halen’s hard driving rock and roll blazed in my headphones,... I had been listening to that among other things for the past few years,.…
“Change,... nothin’ stays the same!
Ah Change! You got to hit the ground runnin’!...2 ”
In my mind I was in battle, scrambling through the unknown, and my heartbeat was fast and hard as the adrenaline pumped full throttle through my veins,.... We just followed the herd of guys ....The bus we had boarded was for “new hires” and we were being led by a guy toward a big trailer. We went in and sat down. After a few minutes, a group of “white hats” (supervisors) came in and they called for our attention. They called our names and we went over to stand with our respective foreman. Everyone dispersed and Dave and I were with a foreman named Stephen. He was a tall, strong- looking guy with a French Canadian accent. We were instructed by him that we had to stay in the main trailer and go over a bunch of Job Hazard Analysis. That was fine by me, it was a process that was set in place to inform us of the safety hazards that we would face during our working hours. Stephen brought a bunch of binders and duotangs and called for our attention.
“I need you guys to listen carefully here,'' he said,.... “The task that you guys have is going to be very tough and it is very hazardous,..,” he said. “You will be working with a highly toxic and highly harmful substance and you need to read all about this substance and how it is made and what it is composed of and what it can do to you,....”
We looked at each other and laughed and smirked and everyone had his own unique reaction. I just sat and thought to myself one thing— “How can I be the best worker here?’’.....
I stayed calm and I prepared for action. We needed to read these duotangs and binders? I saw it as an opportunity to start being the best worker. I reached over and took the first binder and started to look at the contents. Everyone started to quiet down. There were about 12 of us. You could tell right away that some of the guys didn’t have the same idea, to just quiet down and get to the task. Some of the guys looked everywhere except at the binders,..., they visited with their neighbours or they picked up their cell phones and began to scroll through their social media feeds, I saw it out of the corner of my eye, but I was accustomed to being the hardest worker that I could be at all times, and this situation was the same. It was just another situation to dive into the 2 Van Halen. Change, song. task and finish it, so we could go to the next thing. I had the energy for it, I was like a special kind of man, half man, half machine, who didn’t care about anything except doing the job that I was asked to do, as long as the job was not something that went against my conscience. This job was entirely fine so I was going to give it both barrels! Especially on the first day! I had to go extra hard on the first three days to make an impression on the supervisors and my co-workers, so everyone knew who I was and what I was all about….
We started reading the JHAs (Job Hazard Analysis) and it went so that one guy would read and the others would listen,.... Some of the people in the crew were not very good at reading. In fact, many were not, and I was a particularly strong reader, so I did a lot of the reading. After we finished the module then we would complete the job hazard analysis which consisted of a bunch of questions and answers and then there was always a page where we all had to print and sign our names (legal disclaimers). If you didn’t read and sign all of this stuff then you couldn’t do the job. It was very simple. We read the JHAs and we got fit-tested for a special type of respirator. The respirator fit snugly on your face with a special strap. We were also required to wear Tyvek suits as well as rubber gloves.
At that time I was working at Fort Hills for 14 days and then going back to Vancouver for 7, but I was doing extra work (unpaid) on my days off. Sonoko was not working but she was complaining about our money. I was very scared of being called a failure by my wife, by my extended family, and by my peers, so I worked extra-hard.
I actually worked ridiculously hard. We started on the job, chipping Jodichar off of the I beam steel columns. The Jodichar was like cement, an inch thick and running the entire length of the I beam. The I beams were huge. We had to remove all of the fire proofing coating. The I beams were 40 feet long and they were like half -inch thick steel. They used a crane to flip and turn the beams for us and they were set on dunnage (pieces of wood).
Our crew consisted of every type of guy. Some guys were more quiet, and some talkative. We started chipping. It took a lot of effort to crack that coating. Some people used sledge hammers, 12 pounders or 4 pounders. There were also claw hammers and chisels. We weren’t allowed to use any power tools, because the company thought the risk of having an incident was too high. I had learned about using a vice grips to hold a chisel in millwright school so that you wouldn’t hit your hand with the hammer. I asked for a bunch of vice grips and chisels. But that was after the first day….
Dave and I and the crew, about a total of 12 of us, got a ride down to the laydown where all the steel was. We were instructed to change into the suits and put on our respirators and then to tape each other's sleeves, and boots so that no airborne particles could get up our sleeves or in our boots. This shut the air out also, making it extremely hot! To make matters worse, the Tyvek suits don't breathe so it was like working in a sauna. We started chipping. After a while I began to see the scope of the job and the challenge ahead. I was scared of so many things that I worked extra hard. I was also determined to show myself that I was tough so I pushed myself as hard as I possibly could. The sweat poured off of me. Dave and I worked near each other. I would glance over at him every once in a while and he was always pounding….
We were encouraged to take breaks and to drink water. At around 4:00 pm, the time came to start packing up. This was a time when we would be allowed to start changing out of our Tyvek suits, taking off the taped gloves and taped boots and putting our normal clothes back on. Then we would get a ride up to the bus stop and then we’d go back to camp.
That day and most days after, I noticed that I’d feel cold and be shivering despite having drank water throughout the day and despite the temperature outside being in the 30s Celsius. The Tyvek suits and rubber boots and gloves didn’t breathe, so the sweat had just poured out. It was heat exhaustion! But I shrugged it off. I never said anything about it until a few years later while reminiscing with Dave on the phone. I had looked it up and discovered it was a symptom of heat exhaustion! We had it (Dave said he had experienced it too!) every day, but we never talked about it. We didn’t want to be sent home….
The days went by quickly. We worked like men possessed! We were so positive, myself and Dave, and we were always laughing and joking on the bus rides to and from site. We had to be, it was a gruelling time and positivity was the way we got through it.
We continued that for 13 more days and on the 14th day we left work for the airport at 2pm. Our first hitch was over.
We had a week off then we returned for another week. We were constantly hunched over smashing and pounding…. Some guys just lilly dipped and passed the time chipping casually and then stopping for a break to chat with their buddy. A few guys went really hard,..., and so did Dave and I…. We took it personally. We worked so hard, I had never seen anything like it…. Pounding, with precision! Landing blow after blow of savagely-strong hammer strikes, with a set of vice grips clamped to a pin bar, and then a 4-pound sledge in the opposite hand, we took off the Jodichar quickly and with extreme authority, and it was almost unbelievable how much we accomplished each and every day! And each day when we got back to our rooms, the cool air conditioning was so pleasant and it felt like we had come from a trek across the desert, like we had come in from the hottest places in Saudi Arabia. We would eat and sleep and then go back out again the next morning. We were tougher than Jodichar and nothing could stop us, not pain, not fatigue, not depression or OCD,… not even heat exhaustion…!
JH