I’m Running Toward Reconciliation: A Journey to Self-Forgiveness


“Forgiveness is not an occasional act; it is a constant attitude.” — Martin Luther King Jr.


To my brothers, sisters, and my mother,

I need to say something that’s been weighing on me. I know this will be incredibly hard for me, and it might not come out perfectly, but it’s something I need to do. I’ve tried to reach out, though without much response. I understand why—truthfully, I probably haven’t even earned the right to expect one. But this is my attempt to make amends and shed some light on my thoughts, actions, and reactions.

I know I’ve severed ties with everyone more than once. This isn’t about asking for forgiveness, though. It’s about forgiving myself—for sabotaging relationships and trying to understand why I’ve done it. I know I don’t need to revisit every detail of what our family has endured, but so much of that has shaped who I am today.

This effort isn’t driven by my recent separation, but by what the separation has forced me to confront—realizations about my mental health and deeply rooted issues I’ve ignored for years. These struggles have been manifesting in ways I can’t ignore anymore, like the panic attacks I’ve been experiencing.

My first panic attack ten years ago felt like a one-off nightmare, but now they’ve become almost a weekly occurrence. They’ve forced me to face what I’ve been avoiding: I am not okay, and I need to deal with these issues before they consume me.

One thing I’ve realized is that I need to make amends without expecting anything in return—not forgiveness, not reconciliation. My goal is to start forgiving myself for the ways I’ve sabotaged relationships. So here I am, apologizing to each of you: Mom, Eugène, Richer, Eugénie, and Tanya.

I want you to know it’s not your fault—not at all. The distance I’ve created has always been about me. My whole life, I’ve been running—running from my situation, my family, my friends, my surroundings. But no matter where I went, I took the same unresolved issues with me. I wish I had realized this much sooner. Maybe then I wouldn’t be in this place now.

This is my way of cleaning up my side of the street, focusing on what I can control, and letting go of what I can’t. There’s so much tension in my life right now. I recently came across a quote that said, “The root of all tension is wanting things to be different than they are.” That hit me hard because it’s exactly what I’ve been doing—fighting my reality instead of accepting it. I know I need to work on that, and I hope I can get there sooner rather than later.

Finally, I want to apologize for cutting ties. I need you all to know it had nothing to do with any of you—it was always about me and my inability to love and accept myself. Instead of facing my struggles, I ran. But I’ve learned there’s no escaping what’s inside of me. Wherever I go, it follows.

I’m working on it now. And while I hope that one day we might be able to sit down and talk, I understand if that never happens. Regardless, I want you to know that I love you all deeply. This is my way of saying that, and of starting to make peace with myself.

Facing Myself: A Journey Through Vulnerability and Self-Doubt


“You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.” – Buddha


I love my son. He’s one of the best people I know, and probably the only person I can truly count on. I know he worries about me—rightfully so, perhaps. I wish he didn’t. I don’t like it, but I guess that’s part of being vulnerable and open with someone. He deserves to know what’s happening with his father, but I still feel selfish sharing it all. I try to ask about his life, to keep the focus on him, but lately, every conversation seems to circle back to me. I wish it didn’t. I feel like I should be the one reassuring him, not the other way around.

I have three kids, but I’m only in communication with one—my son. Right now, I can’t even begin to explain why I’m not in touch with my two daughters. It’s painful to talk about, and in that situation, I just can’t say anything. Still, I find myself bragging that my son is like me, though deep down, I know he’s not. He’s so much better. He’s smarter, more emotionally intelligent, sensitive, and mature. He’s one of the best people you could ever meet, and I’m lucky enough to call him my son.

He’s also one of the few relationships I haven’t screwed up—maybe the only one. And I can’t help but wonder why I keep sabotaging every other relationship I’m in. It’s a pattern I can’t seem to break, and it leaves me feeling emotionally alone. Maybe that’s because I am emotionally alone. Writing all this down is making me anxious. People say journaling helps, but for me, it just dredges up emotions I’ve buried deep, and I don’t want to face them. It even feels physical, like I’m unearthing something I’ve avoided for so long. And at the core of it all is my struggle with relationships.

I think my difficulty with relationships stems from one harsh truth: I don’t like myself. How can I truly care for others when I can’t extend that compassion to myself? I need to start being gentler, kinder, and learn to love myself. But that’s so hard when I’ve spent most of my life disliking who I am. I’m pretty sure no one knows this about me—I’ve always portrayed confidence, putting on a front like I’ve got it all together. “Fake it till you make it,” they say, but I’ve never made it. And as I get older, I’m starting to believe I never will.

I’m trying so hard to pull myself out of this funk. But day after day, I feel my faith slipping further away. I’m scared—terrified—of the future. And I don’t know how to face it.

Rebuilding Connections: A Journey Through Loss, Reflection, and Self-Discovery


“The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance.”

– Alan Watts


Yesterday, I decided to share all my journaling with my ex. I wasn’t feeling good—just really down, depressed, and hopeless—and I needed to reach out to someone I trust. Despite being separated and moving toward divorce, there’s no animosity between us. In fact, we’re getting along relatively well. I sent her the text to be open about where my head was at and because I had nothing to hide. More than anything, I needed to calm myself down and feel less alone. It might sound strange, but it worked. I slept better—maybe not perfectly, but better than I had in a while.

When I woke up this morning, I felt anxious. Thinking about my upcoming trip to Montreal brought back memories of when I impulsively went to Vegas for Thanksgiving. That trip was an attempt to escape—I didn’t want to spend Thanksgiving alone in my Detroit studio apartment. But running away didn’t help; I was in Vegas for less than 24 hours, still stuck with myself. Montreal feels different, though. I have roots there—family, friends, and familiarity with the area. It’s not just a short trip; I’ll be there for a week. I hope it will be an opportunity to reset and start feeling better about being with myself. My goal is to become my own friend, my own best friend, to learn to like myself and be kind to myself. Only then can I begin building true, meaningful relationships with others.

Today is my mother’s birthday, but I haven’t seen or spoken to her in over 10 years. From what my son has told me, she’s unwell, likely suffering from Alzheimer’s or dementia. This knowledge weighs heavily on me. I reached out to my younger sister, who I also haven’t spoken to in over a decade, to get more information. I feel awful about not being there, not knowing what’s been happening. And I know it’s my fault—I was the one who cut ties with everyone. I still don’t fully understand why. There wasn’t a good reason, and I’ve tried to chalk it up to not feeling well at the time.

My mother was incredibly strong. By 22, she had five kids and was fleeing an abusive relationship with my father. I remember the night she left in 1977, taking us on a train from Toronto to Montreal with only $50 to her name. She’d gotten the money from my father while he was drunk, and he bet she wouldn’t leave. He lost that bet. The train tickets cost nearly all of it, and a relative—her brother, I think—picked us up and brought us to Windsor, Quebec, a small town. That’s where I believe her depression really began. And who could blame her? She was only 23, raising five kids under extremely difficult circumstances. I don’t know how she managed, but she did the best she could.

My mother and I were never close. I think I reminded her of my father, which created a barrier between us. Strangely, I never called her “Mom” or “Mommy,” or even by her name. I simply didn’t call her anything. When I needed to speak to her, I’d just approach and start talking. It’s a sad realization—I’ve never truly felt like I had a mother. I’ve spent my life searching for mother figures in others. My godmother Jacqueline, my first mother-in-law Suzanne, and my second mother-in-law Rebecca were all women I loved deeply. They filled that role for me, and I worked hard to make those relationships meaningful.

Looking back, I wish I’d put the same effort into all my important relationships. I hope it’s not too late to change that. I need to start building connections again, nurturing relationships, and maybe then I won’t feel so emotionally alone.

Navigating Darkness: A Journey Toward Connection and Healing


“Faith is taking the first step even when you don’t see the whole staircase.”

— Martin Luther King Jr.


I decided to book a week in Montreal during Christmas. I’ll be driving there and arriving on December 21, staying until December 28. It’s going to be a long drive—at least ten hours—but I’m looking forward to the trip. So far, I’ve only told my son. Hopefully, we’ll get to see each other a bit, though I know he’s busy with work, school, and his girlfriend, which I completely understand. I haven’t decided if I’ll let anyone else know about the trip yet.

When I booked the Airbnb, I thought it might ease some of my anxiety, but it didn’t quite work. It didn’t address the deeper issues I’m dealing with, but at least I won’t be here for the holidays, which feels like a positive step. I’ve been stuck in my own head too much lately, and getting away might help.

My ex and I were supposed to meet for coffee on Tuesday, December 17, which would have been our eighth anniversary. She wasn’t available on Monday, but this morning, she let me know she has to reschedule for December 19 due to work. It’s a little disappointing because I had hoped to reminisce about that date, but I don’t think she’s interested in doing that. She seems to be coping well—or at least that’s the image she projects. Maybe she’s just “faking it until she makes it,” as she once said. I can’t tell for sure because she doesn’t share much about how she’s feeling. Last time we spoke, I asked her how she felt about us meeting for coffee, and she admitted it made her anxious. She said something about worrying about me, but I’m not sure what she meant or if I fully understood.

As for Montreal, I need to plan what I’ll do while I’m there, but part of me wonders if I should just take things as they come. Either way, I’ll have to return home and face my issues. It’s been three months of darkness, and I’m so tired of feeling this way. I’ve tried so many things to pull myself out of it, but nothing seems to work. I know I’m likely depressed and need to take things one day at a time. I’m doing positive things, and I know progress can be slow, but I just wish I wasn’t alone. That’s the hardest part, and I only have myself to blame for it.

I’ve been thinking about joining a group or community. I even considered AA, though I don’t think I’m an alcoholic. I haven’t had a drink in nearly four years, but lately, I’ve thought about it again, which might mean AA could help. I’ve also looked into volunteering to help others or joining farming communities where I could learn to farm. Minimalism is another idea I’ve been exploring. I’ve been researching all these things, hoping to find something that helps me feel less down, dark, and lonely.

It’s a rough road I’m on right now, but I’m trying to have faith that I’ll get through it. That’s all I can do.

Restless Mornings and the Search for Peace


“You are doing everything right—be patient and kind to yourself. Healing is not linear, and sometimes, just holding on is a victory.”

— Dr. Brené Brown, Researcher and Author on Vulnerability and Resilience


Lately, I’ve been sleeping better, but when I wake up, I feel restless, agitated, and scattered. I usually wake up around 5 AM, but I don’t feel rested. It’s still an improvement compared to when I wasn’t sleeping much at all and felt just as agitated upon waking. Maybe part of it is that I haven’t slept alone in a bed since 1993—I only just realized that.

Most mornings, I meditate after waking. During meditation, especially in the morning, my mind constantly wanders, and I have to keep bringing my focus back to my breath. Sometimes, tears roll down my cheeks while meditating—not from emotion, just a physical reaction. My thoughts race, mostly about how to stop feeling this way. I feel torn between wanting to fight and wanting to flee, but I know fleeing isn’t the answer. Wherever I go, I take myself with me. Fighting doesn’t seem like the solution either. What am I fighting? Myself? My situation? That’s probably it.

I know from meditation that I should accept my situation, but I struggle with it. I think it’s because I’m trying to control things that aren’t controllable. Intellectually, I know I have a lot going for me: I’m healthy, intelligent, not unattractive. I have a roof over my head, some money in the bank, and passions like running, working out, and programming. I have a son who loves me, friends who reach out to me, dual citizenship, a car, and a great computer. But none of it feels meaningful if I can’t share it with someone. Listing all these positives should cheer me up, but it doesn’t. In the back of my mind, I’m comparing myself to…someone. I don’t even know who.

I’ve tried so many things to improve my situation. I saw my doctor, who prescribed medication. I did online therapy—it felt a bit awkward, but I gave it a try. I’ve taken medication, though I’m not on any now because I didn’t feel it helped. I’ve been meditating, working out, reaching out to people I care about, and making myself vulnerable. I’ve opened up, poured my feelings out, and maintained honest communication with those close to me.

People tell me I’m doing everything right and that I need to be patient and kind to myself. I know I should take that advice—it’s good advice. But knowing and feeling are two different things, and I’m still working on bridging that gap.

Facing the Holidays Alone: A Reflection on Struggles and Self-Sabotage


“The greatest thing in the world is to know how to belong to oneself.”

— Michel de Montaigne


Today has been a mentally hard day, and it feels like this is becoming more frequent. I think the fast-approaching holidays have something to do with it. I’m struggling to accept that I’ll be spending them alone. Honestly, I don’t think it’s normal to just accept that—I’m not sure, though. Maybe it’s just me, sitting here on my lunch break.

I was on the Salvation Army website earlier, trying to find a way to volunteer on the 24th and 25th so I wouldn’t have to spend those days alone. You’d be surprised how hard it is to volunteer; I couldn’t find anything. Every time I clicked on something, it didn’t take me to the right place, and I couldn’t sign up for anything. It almost felt like they don’t actually need anyone, though I know that’s probably not true.

I’m sure some people don’t mind spending the holidays completely alone, but I’m not one of them. In some ways, I know I’m doing this to myself. I could spend time with certain people, but if I don’t get along with them, my pride gets in the way, and I just don’t do it. It’s like I’m sabotaging myself—thinking it’s my way or nothing. Maybe I’m just making excuses, but it’s what I feel.

I keep thinking that maybe I should quit my job and leave before the holidays to go to Montreal. Don’t get me wrong, I’d probably still be alone most of the time there too, but at least I’d get to see my son at some point. Something about being there feels like I wouldn’t be as mentally alone as I would be here. Still, part of me feels like I might need to stay here, go through this process, and just endure it. I don’t know.

I’ve been feeling so low lately that I’ve even thought about starting my meds again. I don’t want to, but the thought keeps crossing my mind. How did it even come to this? It feels like a shock, but then I question if it really is. What happened on September 27 just feels like the drop that made the cup overflow, as we say in French. I don’t know if there’s an equivalent saying in English.

If I’m being honest, I wasn’t well even when I officially got here in late 2018. I’ve been struggling with mental health for much longer—long before my first marriage in 1994. Coming from a dysfunctional family, I guess I’ve been struggling since childhood. How sad is it that I’m only realizing this now?

Mental workout

“Just like physical exercise, mental workouts take time and consistency to see results, but they build the strength and resilience that shape who you are.” – Dr. Caroline Leaf


The coffee meet-up went well, as it always does. I even told her that, as sad as it sounds, it’s often the highlight of my week. I say it’s sad because it makes me realize how little is happening during the rest of my week. Like I’ve said before, I think it’s because I feel emotionally isolated in my studio apartment.

I was on medication for anxiety and depression, but I stopped because it wasn’t working for me—in fact, it often made things worse. Some of the medications would almost completely stop the panic attacks, but they left me feeling deeply depressed. On the other hand, the antidepressants helped me sleep, but I’d wake up feeling incredibly anxious. In the end, I realized medication wasn’t the right solution for me.

Lately, I’ve been practicing meditation, and I can honestly say it’s helping. It’s teaching me how to stay in the moment and be kinder to myself. I have a tendency to be very hard on myself, but meditation is helping me break that habit.

During our conversation, my ex reminded me that I have my physical health, to which I quickly responded that I don’t have my mental health. I even said my mental health is “out of shape.” She reminded me that’s exactly why I’m working on it, and she encouraged me to stay focused on my mental health the same way I’ve focused on my physical health for years.

That’s what I’m doing now—trying to be more mindful, meditating, and even journaling, like I’m doing right now. I’m doing the best I can, though sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough or like I’m seeing results quickly enough. But I remind myself it’s just like working out. You don’t see fast results, but if you make it a lifestyle, progress happens over time.

That’s my goal: to make my mental health practices a part of my lifestyle, just like I’ve done with physical fitness.

Coffee meet-up

I’m meeting up with my ex soon—still feels strange to call her that. Anyway, we decided to meet for coffee. Well, to be honest, it was more my idea. I needed some form of connection since I’ve been feeling quite alone here. I assume she has her own reasons for agreeing, which are probably different from mine. Maybe she still cares a bit about my mental state, or perhaps it has to do with me being cooperative about the house. I don’t want to speculate too much about her motives, though.

During our meetup, I plan to tell her about my future plans. I haven’t fully committed to these yet, but they seem likely given my current situation, which feels unsustainable. I’m seriously considering quitting my job at the end of January and spending the entire month of February in Montreal. The idea is to keep my studio here and rent an Airbnb there for that month. While in Montreal, I’d focus on resetting and figuring out my next steps—maybe applying for a Canadian passport, opening a bank account, and looking for jobs. I might also explore job opportunities in Michigan, though I’m not optimistic about finding something fulfilling here.

The plan I’m leaning toward is to quit my job, spend February in Montreal, then return for March and April. After that, I’d repeat the process: spending May in Montreal, then coming back for June and July, and heading back to Montreal in August. I’d return again in September and October. Of course, this could all change depending on how things unfold—if I find a job in Montreal, my plans would shift significantly. On the other hand, if I somehow found a fulfilling job in Michigan (though I highly doubt it), that could also alter my course.

Part of what’s driving this is my career dissatisfaction here. I wouldn’t even call it a career. Back in Quebec, I was an educational program coordinator at a multimedia school for 14 years, and I taught part-time at Concordia University for 19 years. I covered programming, graphic design, multimedia, and more. Here in Michigan, the best I’ve been able to do is work as a behavior technician, then a program coordinator (essentially managing behavior technicians), and now as a clinical onboarding and credentialing specialist—a fancy title for a job that feels pretty empty.

This lack of career fulfillment is a major reason I’m thinking about going back to Montreal. Maybe I could get back into teaching, or honestly, anything would feel better than what I’m doing here. Anyway, that’s where I’m at right now.

I don’t know how to start…

But I know that I need to do this!

“The journey of self-discovery and healing is not about becoming someone new, but about gently letting go of what isn’t you so you can fully embrace who you’ve always been.”
– Unknown


Right now, I’m not in a good place mentally. There are good days and bad days, but this has been going on for a few months now. I can pinpoint it starting around September 27, 2024, though my mental struggles have been with me for much longer than that. I’m trying to find some peace, but it’s incredibly hard. I’ve been having dark thoughts, which really scare me.

I think the core of my struggle is feeling very alone. I’m on the path to a divorce, and it’s turned my world upside down. But if I’m being honest, I don’t think the divorce is the root cause. This sense of hopelessness has been lingering in my life for a long time.

One of the reasons I feel so alone is that, in many ways, I truly am. I’m now living in Detroit, in a studio apartment in what could probably be called a rough neighborhood. The apartment itself isn’t bad, but everything else feels foreign—new city, new state, new country—and I’m completely alone. No family, no partner, no friends. And that isolation is what’s crushing me the most.

I think this is enough to share for now.