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Almost a week into November already. Where has the time gone?

Lynn’s recovery has been slow, but she seems to be progressing. I even managed to get her out of the house for a bit last night. We met up with some friends at a local fall supper in a neighbouring community.

It was a good time, with good food and great friends. I am humbled everyday that we have these people in our life. They are a big part of the reason we decided to stay in town after Lynn and I both stopped working in the region. Considering how weird it is to say this, we are starting to have roots here.

Prior to moving here I was more or less a nomad. I rarely spent much time in one place. I have lived all over this province. I’ve worked in even more of it,

I was never content with staying still during my twenties. Things changed a bit when Lynn and I met, though I still spent tons of time on the road for work. She gave me an anchor to come back to.

Even once we moved where we are, I still spent lots of time away working at a town an hour away. It’s only in the last few years that I have been slowing down. I’ve been staying home more. I’ve been spending time with friends. I’ve been feeling a connection to my community and I haven’t felt the need to run.

Part of the reason I moved around a lot, in hindsight, I can contribute directly to the Borderline Personality Disorder. I always felt a sense of impending doom. A sense of abandonment. A defense mechanism to that was moving on and not letting people get close. If I pushed my “friends” away, they couldn’t abandon me, right?

Wrong. The problem with that theory is I never got close enough to people to have friends. I have few friends I’ve had longer than 5 years. Fewer still whom I’ve known for 10. And fewer yet for people I’ve known for longer than 15.  I’ve known a lot of people over the years, but very few have lasted. People can’t handle me when I’m at my worst. I can barely handle me, so I can’t blame them.

The friends we have made in this community, the roots we have put down, are amazing. The people I call my true friends have seen me at my worst. They haven’t let me push them away. Instead they’ve included us into their social circles. They’ve prayed for both Lynn and I, and have rallied behind us when either of us struggle.

In finding friends like that, friends who don’t judge us when we are vulnerable, friends who are by our side when we stumble, they no longer are just friends.

Friends like that are family.


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