Agoraphobic Life Coaching
with Nina Tryggvason
The Raw Recovery Specialist
The Agoraphobic Philosopher
https://www.facebook.com/groups/668055393208508/
Raw Recovery Specialist
When events occur that disrupt your life’s plan
how you recover – by that I mean – to mitigate your losses and return to a semblance of normal functioning
or finding a balance of function and dysfunction as coping ugly to coping
shifting from existence and survival into thrival mode
finding your new level between rock bottom and optimal
is the main motivation for getting back up from rock bottom
like Elvis said you need something to do and something to look forward to
I grew up in New Westminster.
My family operated Trygg Ceramics across the street from the Royal Columbian Hospital.
My grandparents had a farm in Chilliwack on Keith Wilson road – far away from the army base and my parents along with my Uncle Pat and Aunt Patrica bought this pony for me and my sister and our 2 boy cousins to ride.
I am the only one of the 4 kids who rode Raindrop. and this is the only photo of me on him.
When I was a kid, I wanted to be a cowboy. This was as close as I got.
Around this time, my Dad explained to me that the Pony Express was only an 18 month venture until the rail road made it obsolete through technology doing more work and making people unnecessary.
This is why when the concepts that lead to jet propulsion were discovered in Ancient Egypt they didn’t develop it – because they knew they needed to employ the population.
Thus, making monuments were a mulch-generational task of keeping people busy during the off harvest season. The secret to keeping your empire is to keep people busy an engaged in public works and infrastructure. Social complexity is about the scope and span of the population pressures by numbers and demographics.
My dad also explained that cowboys were basically farm hands and that didn’t appeal to me.
Besides, my love of cowboy movies wasn’t the cattle drive characters and it wasn’t the gunslingers, even though I have a soft spot for Billy the Kid and Jessie James.
It wasn’t even the self sacrificing sheriffs at high noon type stories.
I wanted to be a Pinkerton or Federal Marshal.
I got to sort of live that work fantasy out when I worked at RCMP.
The hat in the photo is a real RCMP forage cap. The crest was removed and I do not wear it off my property.
I was having lunch with 7 officers. I use the term to mean police officers rather than reflect the actual ranks, which was corporals to inspectors. Since I am not impressed by rank. I am only impressed by the person.
and usually, I am not.
so I used to kid about wanting one of the hats.
a butch woman corporal who everyone pretended wasn’t butch. Seriously you should see gaydar from the other side
the heterosexual inability to cope with difference and what they do to ignore the obvious is astonishing
One day, she said to me “Nina, why don’t you go to Depot and get the whole uniform?”
I paused to make sure everyone had food in their mouths or midway to their mouths, then I drawled
“Uniforms are more a fetish than a lifestyle thing for me.”
Everyone froze. breathing stopped. people turned an array of amazing shades of red
it’s really easy to find out who is kinky or not
but what embarrasses them
after that, permission was granted for me to have the hat
probably so I wouldn’t do that again
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