NON-FICTION — AUTOBIOGRAPHY

Chapter 18 — Going Deeper Into Jungian Psychology

Kintsugi: Making, Breaking, and Putting Pieces Back Together Again

Back home I found a book called, The Survival Papers: Anatomy of a Midlife Crisis, by Daryl Sharp, a Jungian analyst. That book led me to other books by other Jungian analysts. I was flying high as if I was in a manic state. I was certain these books held all the answers that I needed, and with those answers, I would be freed from the depression intent on devouring me. As a bonus was the idea that what I learned could be used to help others when I became a counsellor.

The high began to fade fast. Knowledge wasn’t the real issue. In the rush to understand the words quoted by Daryl Sharp in the introduction to his first chapter: “When an inner situation is not made conscious, it happens outside as fate,” I wasn’t ready to comprehend what he was talking about.

There was too much I didn’t know, stuff hidden and denied from the past, my past, and until it was dealt with, I would continue to suffer as a victim of the past, blaming fate, blaming others.

Despite the discovery of several books by Daryl Sharp and James Hollis, and the presentation by Kelly Walker, I had work to do in life outside of my preoccupation with midlife issues. I had a final half class to complete to meet the course requirements for a master’s program. Digging deeper into Jungian psychology would have to wait.

Regardless of my efforts to focus on that last class, I had a chapter for the online education book that I had committed to submitting. Then there was my resolution to get my act together as a teacher. Yet, I continued to invest too much time and energy in cyberspace. I continued to spread myself thin with multi-tasking with little hope that anything could be done well.

I brought together all I had learned from both classroom experiments with on-line communication and with my engagement with various on-line discussion groups to craft a thesis proposal. I presented the proposal to the chair of my thesis committee.

The plan was rejected as it was presented. The chairperson didn’t want me to write a thesis, but to take a project route for the Masters program. Rather than a qualitative approach, I was told that to be successful, I needed to write up a quantitative, statistic-backed study.

I left the meeting shaken and discouraged. I knew I had to have this man’s approval if the thesis was to ever be accepted. However, I did consider combining my classroom project with its data, objective data, and writing it up in a thesis. I went back to my second-language classes with a series of questionnaires for the students to get the data needed for the statistical component of the thesis.

I wondered how I could possibly blend those statistics into the qualitative approach which formed the foundation of my thesis. Anger began to grow surface as I struggled with this. That anger was the fuel that allowed me to complete the school year without incident. The thesis, and my advisor, became the new enemy.

In the summer of 1996, I had been asked to be one of the coaches for the zone track and field competitions. Those competitions would qualify athletes for the following summer’s Jeux de Canada Games to be held in Brandon, Manitoba. In persuaded a few of the school’s athletes to take part in the event. All those who had placed well in the school district competition and at provincial completion were automatically given invitations to the Zone competitions.

I added three other athletes to the team to represent the zone in the race walk and hammer throw events which weren’t included in the High School Provincial Championships. From the Provincial Championships, the top two finishers in each event would go on to compete at the national games the following summer.

Both race-walk competitors qualified for nationals, the female athlete winning her event and the male athlete who was my son, getting the silver medal. I finished the school year with a firm belief that the future was now turning out for the better.

I was going to finish the master’s degree, my son was going to compete at Nationals, my reputation as a coach was spreading, and I was seen and recognised as an expert in the world of computers and the Internet. And the most important, I was going to celebrate a twenty-fifth wedding anniversary with M.

Once the school year was done, I was given an office to use for the summer at the university. I could work uninterrupted whenever I made the trip to the city. It wasn’t long before I took a sleeping bag to the office so I could spend a few nights there saving money through reduced driving expenses.

It gave men enough alone time to finish the thesis. I had other professors who were long-time friends, read the thesis before it was presented it to the chairperson. The other professors assured me I had written a solid thesis.

However, the chairperson wasn’t satisfied. I again suggested the thesis be scrapped. He was adamant that I take the project route, with a greater focus on statistics. I was told to bring the project back to him the following year after doing more studies with more statistical analyses of those experiments. I returned home discouraged.

I knew I couldn’t go back to work on the thesis. My life at home and in the community was much more important. When I told the Dean of Education of my intentions to settle for Post Graduate Diploma, the Dean tried to talk me out of abandoning the thesis. He had read the thesis and knew it was almost ready for publication.

He suggested I reconsider, telling me a new chairperson for the committee would be appointed, a man who was both qualified to be that chairperson, a man who was also my friend. I refused. I was burnt out and I knew it. I returned home feeling defeated and ashamed at having failed. Marynia was there and she still loved me and still wanted me in her life. And that was all that mattered.

In that summer of 1996, I became a grandfather for the first time. The miracle of being a grandfather to a grandson, the day before my forty-seventh birthday. It was an event which had me vow to do what I could to be the grandfather he needed.

Previously

I want to thank the following people for reading this story:

Brian Lageose, Robert, Dennis Koluris • M.Sc., Bill Harris, Mariana Busarova, Alberto Ocando, Chase Dalton, Mr. Plan ₿, Harshil Mevasa, Author, D. Denise Dianaty, Loicrees, and Buddhi Ruparathna, Lady De Ville, Pete JJ, and Tina Here