It was then that the weight of depression lifted from my shoulders. I found my self-confidence and strength-of-will once more knowing I have the capacity within me to take on whatever may come my way. Hugh told me after I had come out of my depression that he never thought I was depressed.
“What was I then?” I asked Hugh. I’d been struggling against something for the past ten years – this monkey on my back or whatever it was.
He looked at me and said, “I saw someone dejected and demoralized.”
I had searched for a decade trying to find what I could never have found. I was increasingly frustrated by my fruitless trek and my body’s failings that thwarted my efforts to make a life for myself. I became more dispirited and disheartened as time went by. All this I saw as depression and the resulting insecurity as anxiety.
But never again!
I am now Brian in my own right. I live life as my own person. I am able to meet whatever life has in store.
As the veil of my depression started to lift I found the inspiration to follow my dream to do Voice Over (VO). I had wanted to give voice to animated characters since I was a teenager for two reasons. First, it would be a really cool thing to do. Second, because of my facial paralysis I couldn’t make facial expressions such as frown, raise my eyebrows or give a big, wide smile – but the characters I gave voice to could.
Just as for teaching, giving a workshop and working in a medical lab, there were people who told me, “Brian, you can’t do Voice Over.” Some people told me this out of genuine concern that I was destined for certain failure and didn’t want to see me get hurt. I appreciated their concern but as I listened in my mind I said, “Oh please save it.” Then there were people who told me I couldn’t do VO just for their own satisfaction of telling me so. For these people my sentiment was, “Take a hike!” My reply to everyone was, “I’m working on it.”
In April of 2010 I joined Voices.com, a Voice Over marketplace, and started receiving their emails, newsletters and job notices. That September I went to the Voices of Vision event in Toronto where I got a good feeling for the VO industry that I couldn’t find in Thunder Bay. At Voices of Vision I met Pat who gave the first workshop. He emailed me two weeks later inviting me down to a Voice Over event in October at his studio in West Hollywood. “Awesome, I can’t pass this up.” I did something that was totally out of character for me. I jumped on a plane for LA with no idea how I was going to pay for it. I was nervous. At Pat’s VO event I got two turns to stand in a recording booth in front of a microphone and read a script. I know I can trust Pat’s word when he said I was fine. When I came back to Thunder Bay from Pat’s VO event I felt I needed to strengthen my vocal skills. I saw Mona, a speech pathologist, monthly for a year and a half. She had done some VO herself so she knew what I wanted to do with my voice. Mona was very creative and helpful. We improved my voice as best we could given my impediments. I gained more confidence in speaking. Then I took voice lessons over Skype for a year from a woman named Sunday, a voice coach in Toronto. With her guidance I focused on how I can best employ my vocal skills.
When I decided to do VO I joined Toastmasters. I wanted to improve my public speaking and interpretive reading skills. I belong to two Toastmasters clubs in Thunder Bay, compete in speech competitions and have earned my Advanced Communicator – Bronze and Competent Leader standings. Toastmasters taught me a lot about the craft of speaking. My confidence in public speaking and reading aloud has grown tremendously. Best of all I enjoy it.
Like Mom and Dad I was an active member of Corpus Christi. When I moved into my condo I involved myself in all the church functions at St. Agnes to forge an identity of my own. After four years I became discontented with the church services and the whole church scene. I couldn’t put my finger on why but it all started to feel hollow. I could experience the building and the people but no spiritual connection. I realized I was trying to live my mother’s relationship with Catholicism. I had to find my own spirituality. I stopped going to church and I didn’t miss it.
I lived in spiritual limbo. No longer did I have a spiritual basis in church and I didn’t know where else to look. Counselling for my depression revealed the wholeness within me. My ascent from the depths of depression began when I discovered that the light of my spirit and strength shines outward from my heart and soul.
Since then my spirituality grew beyond any one set of beliefs. No longer could I adhere to the teachings and edicts of some external church telling me what my beliefs were. I found spirituality to be much more. Now my spirituality comes from a variety of sources and always shines out from within me. I will never knock organized religion. It is a source of spirit and strength for many people as it once was for me.
I met my health challenges of facial paralysis, speech impediment, poor balance, hearing loss, obesity and depression. I surrounded myself with people who could help me with my disabilities and forge ahead with life. When I saw how technology could help me I embraced it. I now know the joy of expanding my creative mind: Interior Design, Architectural Technology, Copywriting, Artist, Writer, Voice Actor, Toastmaster and … There are many more things I want to learn and do. These are my dreams. Anyone who looks with an open mind at all the things out there to do will find the opportunities are endless. I’ve gained confidence travelling by myself to reintroduce “Brian” to my family and preserve the family history. Moving in with Catharine and her children enhanced my family life tremendously. I have found fulfillment in writing and speaking. My new spirituality has given me a sense of inner peace and joy. Despite all I that have been through I am living my dreams.
Dad aptly chose The Old Man and the Sea to read to me in the ICU after my neurosurgery at Sick Kids in 1972. He chose the story of a man who kept his courage in the face of defeat who won a personal triumph from loss that, for me, proved to be prophetic. It would be the story of my life.
In my world there are no final frontiers. There are only new frontiers to be discovered and explored. My life is my continuing mission. What else is in store for me? What new adventure awaits? Whatever it is I will face it with a smile!
By January of 2009 I was out of money. I had spent what I had left on new hearing aids trying to get my hearing back and on learning once again a new trade. Catharine suggested I apply for the Ontario Disability Support Plan (ODSP) – essentially a disability pension. I applied with her help. For the first time in my life it was beneficial for me to have disabilities. Once I had described all of my disabilities to them and how they impacted on my life it wasn’t hard to qualify. ODSP gave me the breathing space I needed to regroup. My disabilities had gained the better of me and I needed time to get a handle on them. Being on disability allowed me access to the counselling I needed to deal with my depression.
Three months after I started receiving disability benefits a program called Building Bridges (BB) started. Building Bridges was for anyone who wanted to start a business and become self-employed. BB participants could either supplement their ODSP income or get off it altogether. I jumped at the chance. After my longstanding troubles with trying to find paid employment, I now saw self-employment as my most viable option if I was ever going to get back into the workforce. I was determined. This time being in business would be different. There was very little stress in copywriting, virtually no overhead and I could work from where I lived.
The timing of this program couldn’t have been better. Building Bridges was formed through the partnership of two agencies – Ontario March of Dimes (OMOD) and Independent Living Resource Centre (ILRC) – plus the PARO Centre for Women’s Enterprise (PARO), a not-for-profit business helping women start a business to achieve their independence. ODSP oversaw the progress of the BB participants. The beauty of BB was that social service agencies were partnered with the corporate smarts of a business.
I was in the pilot project for the Building Bridges program. In its 15 year history I was one of the first three men to receive business help from PARO. As you can imagine the men were widely outnumbered by the women. I called it “mixing it up with the ladies” and it was an experience. PARO helped me complete what I’d tried unsuccessfully to do by myself which was to compose a business plan and start a copywriting business. On February 16, 2010, I proudly started BGS Communications, (Brian G. Spare Communications). I became a freelance copywriter with PARO as my first customer.
Then I had an idea for Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick. I really liked the story but the 1850s English was hard going. “Somebody should re-write this into modern prose,” I thought. I decided I would do it. Over two years I abridged and translated Moby-Dick. When I was finished my work was different enough in from Melville’s novel to give it its own title. On October 12, 2012, I launched my first book The Hunt for Moby Dick.
The Independent Living Resource Centre (ILRC) ensured that the Building Bridges participants, given their disabilities, could apply the business skills they learned at PARO. The workshops and seminars at PARO and ILRC provided me with much needed practice in listening to lectures and participating in group discussions. My confidence level was boosted enormously as I learned to adapt my hearing. I was inspired to join the Board of Directors for the Independent Living Resource Centre Thunder Bay.
Ontario March of Dimes’ part in the Building Bridges program was to test for and to teach me the basic skills that I needed to work such as computer and typing. Their aptitude test showed me to be suited for writing among other things.
There was a constant conflict inside me. I wanted to forge ahead in life but at the same time go away and hide.When I explained my situation to OMOD they found me a counsellor for my depression. His name was Hugh. I was expecting Hugh to have a Dr. Phil look with a regular hair cut, standard sports jacket, dress shirt, dress pants and shoes. The man I met was ten years older than me with thinning, grey, shoulder length hair. He wore a denim vest, button up shirt, jeans and moccasins. I found Hugh to be a very knowledgeable, highly intuitive, warm and peaceful man. He wore a broad smile, had a genuine concern for people and was sincere in everything he said. Hugh and I worked well together.
During two years of monthly sessions Hugh coached me out of my depression. It took me that long to change my mindset and really catch on to what he was telling me. Hugh got me to face the hostility in the dark, craggy, cold, gaping hole in my chest. He said the hole was not hostile. It was my space and I had no reason to get rid of it. I learned from Hugh that the hole – the deep emotional wound I couldn’t heal – was my parents’ influence on my life which left me the morning Mom died. What I lost that morning was what I needed to lose if I was truly going to find myself. From then on that hole became a friendly, clean-edged, light-filled space – my space – a womb full of warmth that I could expand to accommodate and nurture all my thoughts, dreams, feelings and experiences. I was released from a feeling of deficiency and found that I am, in a word, complete. I could believe in myself again.
The day after I got back I started reintegrating into Thunder Bay life. When I was renovating the Whalen Street house I became interested in Interior Design. That September I signed up for an evening course at Confederation College called “The Theory of Colour,” the first of five courses which I took over the next year and a half to earn a certificate in Interior Decorating. I was the single male out of an average 20 participants in each course. At first I felt like a fish out of water. But I got to like being the only man there and I developed a good rapport with the ladies. To this day Interior Design is a keen interest of mine.
Dad’s parents wanted him to be a commercial artist but Dad had his mind set on becoming an engineer like his Uncle Ted. Dad was always doodling caricatures of people and he was good at it. I’ve kept all of his drawings and one of his paintings hangs over my desk. I wondered if I had inherited any of his artistic skills. I signed up for a painting class as well. We made landscape and still life oil paintings and sketches. I found I did have some talent. I joined a painting group in January and found my niche in painting colourful landscapes.
I applied for work in other private labs in Thunder Bay and just about any job I thought I could do but to no avail. Nobody wanted me. There is no doubt in my mind that my general appearance shocked most potential employers. I got to know the expression on the face of a job interviewer seeing me for the first time. His/her eyes would widen slightly and gasp a bit while straightening up in the chair. They would be at a loss for words until I said hello. We politely went through the interview but I knew I didn’t have the job before we started. When I saw night work at the newspaper I applied for it. “At least nobody has to see me on the midnight shift,” I said to myself. I didn’t get past that interviewer either. The interviewers whom I met assumed my physical disabilities impaired my basic intellectual skills. That was their first impression of me and those perceptions are hard to change.
I vented my frustrations to my long time friend, Olga. She thought how unfair it was to turn someone down because of their appearance. Olga had left teaching to become a successful insurance agent and had joined a Rotary club. Twice she took me to a Rotary meeting to introduce me to her business contacts. Olga knew what I was able to do and her contacts would take her word for it regardless of what they thought when they saw me. But I shied away from Rotary. I was feeling very unsure of myself emotionally. The thought of working with confident, self-assured people was daunting. I didn’t join Rotary and I spent many frustrating years searching to find, on my own, those contacts Olga had tried to provide me with. I spoke to Olga a few years later and admitted, “Getting me out to Rotary to find contact people was exactly what I needed.”
Olga looked at me and said, “Brian, you weren’t ready for it.”
In many ways I was lost. In the split second when I found Mom dead in bed the tapestry of the protected world that my parents made for me unravelled. A big chunk of me jumped out of the middle of my chest, out through her bedroom window and away into the sky. It left a fathoms-deep, dark, cold, craggy-edged hole that I wanted to fill with whatever departed. I didn’t know what had left me but I knew I wanted it back. I felt the weight of that hole with every breath.
The effects of the shock wave that hit me that fateful morning when I found my mother dead stayed with me for a year. I shut down emotionally and yet my heart ached with an emptiness I could not suppress. Tears left me that morning and I have not shed a tear since. For the first two months I hurt twenty-four seven. As the year progressed I wasn’t hurting all the time and I felt guilty for not hurting. We’re strange creatures, aren’t we? The hurt turned into what I came to know as anxiety and depression. It was with me all the time dogging every aspect of my life – like wading through waste deep water impeding my progress to do things. Nearly everything I did was such an arduous task that any feeling of accomplishment was taken away and replaced with relief that it was finally done. For ten years I searched for a way to get rid of the grief my nerves caused me.
“I don’t control my nerves anymore. They control me. If only I could find what left me I’d be better.”
Once the first year had passed my anxiety and depression were at their worst from mid November through January. Maybe it was the seasonal bleak, cold weather, the approach of the Christmas season or both. Once November set in I dreaded the coming of Christmas. When the holidays arrived I wished the days away even though I still liked the cakes, goodies and get-togethers that came with that time of year. I breathed a sigh of relief when February came and an even bigger sigh when March arrived.