I’m fun.
But few people know about my Frosted Mini-Wheats side. They think I’m a plain dry Mini-Wheat. You know, those large ones that need milk or you’ll choke.
Few people understand me. I’m a serious person who cracks jokes most people don’t understand. I can see how that causes confusion.
In 1998, I met a counsellor at Red River College. Within one visit, he understood me. Completely. Our visits focused less on my marks and more on who I was and what I wanted out of life. Everyone deserves to have an experience like meeting a Tim Thurston. When I look back on our visits, they remind me of tapered down appointments between Sean Maguire and Will Hunting from “Good Will Hunting.”
Yes, he was that awesome. We’d swap stories and laugh. Our visits were sometimes two hours long.
He didn’t think I was a plain Mini-Wheat. He knew the real me. Who wanted to be a writer and broadcaster. Who hated business administration. Who had a crush on a DJ.
Tim died of a heart attack in 2000, and it hurt like hell. Because whenever I had a problem, I’d run to him. Now, I had nowhere to run.
He learned the real me. I almost didn’t meet Tim. The day of my appointment at RRC, I was inches from leaving my chair. But I’m so grateful his door opened. He taught me valuable life lessons about “sailing my own ship,” and taking control of my life. I learned more about myself during those two years than I thought possible.
Not letting people learn about you is one of the greatest tragedies in life. No one can truly understand how you feel, but a handful will at understand your sarcastic humour and awkwardness.
Reach out. Let us learn about you.
Who knows. You might be a misunderstood Frosted Mini-Wheat, too.
29 then 40 