Bird - Just For Now: Tools to find gratitude

My mom taught me to take a moment without even realizing it. My mom is deaf. She taught me how to sign before I even learned how to speak English properly. I learned English by watching pro wrestling and Sesame Street . In our adventures growing up, mom would always stop and ask me, What do you hear? and my reply would be to describe, as best I could, all the sounds I could hear in that moment, stopping to focus on what I heard all around us. Sometimes thered be the sound of trucks in the distance, the wind in the trees, or a baby crying in the store across the street. Sitting and explaining every sound possible, shed smile and nod, knowing what was happening around her.

Not knowing it at the time but looking back, as we sat and listened to all of the sounds, there was no thought about the past or the future we were there, in the moment, focusing on what was happening not what happened or may happen , what is happen ing .

A seed was planted.

It was around 2016 2017, after achieving my childhood dream of not only becoming a professional wrestler, but becoming a champion in the pro wrestling world, when I truly began reflecting on the journey that had led me there. I realized that long ago, seeds had been planted within my soul that had helped me achieve my dream. This realization made me want to dig deeper and learn more.

One of the big moments happened between the ages of thirteen and fourteen. Moving around a lot as a kid, there were over twenty-five different houses that I called home and several different schools that were supposed to be my learning grounds, though not much learning happened. We had just moved from the north end to the east side of Saskatoon, Saskatchewan (SK), and the closest school was only a five-minute walk away. There were two other Native kids in my class; one was named Ivan, and he and I became good friends. At the end of the school year, Ivan moved to a different school that was a fifteen-minute walk away and having made a new best friend, I wanted to attend the same school as he did.

However, my mom was planning to move to Prince Albert, SK, one hour and a half away from Saskatoon, and she told me we both had to go. Moving to a new city again, starting a new school, and making new friends sounded worse than simply switching schools to be with my best friend. We argued for a day or two over this until I remembered that my dad also lived in Saskatoon, so I came up with the idea to live with him.

Dad lived on the west side of Saskatoon, the rough part of town. All my life, my dad had lived in that area, but my dad always made me feel safe (even though there were many unsafe situations). Growing up, I thought dad was always so cool. Each visit on the weekend, he always had lots of friends over, everyone laughing, and music playing. It always seemed like everyone was having so much fun, but eventually, Id get sleepy, go to bed, and then itd be time to head home to moms the next day. As time moved on, I found out that being able to stay up later into the evening wasnt all fun and games. Things began joyfully, but as the night went on and alcohol kept flowing, fights happened all too often, descending into yelling, the sounds of things breaking, and people crashing around.

It got to a point where the living situation was unhealthy, so my mom and I planned to get me out of there it was time to move out. Living with the chaos at my dads house for about a year was enough to know that it wasnt the place to be. Again, at this time, mom lived in Prince Albert, SK, about an hour and a half away from Saskatoon, where dad lived. We planned for weeks, figuring out what we were going to do so I could leave without any unnecessary drama. I was trying to leave the chaos, not start more of it.

My mom planned to leave Prince Albert with her dusty white 1995 GMC Jimmy at 4:30 AM and arrive around 6:00 AM. My job was to box up my stuff throughout the night and have them ready at the front door by the time mom arrived. I waited until everyone was asleep, then boxes started to be packed. I was careful to keep the noise down. Piece by piece, each box got filled and gently placed by my bedroom door. An alarm was set to wake me up early so I would be ready, and then I eventually drifted off to sleep after staring into the dark room, thinking of what may or may not happen in the morning.

I woke up before my alarm rang and started moving the boxes from my room to the front door. My bedroom was in the middle of a long hallway: youd step out of my room, turn right, and take roughly ten steps into the living room. The wall on the right-hand side of the hallway continued all the way to divide the living room and kitchen with a doorway on the right. The wall on the left-hand side turned away and into the living room, and the front door was placed in the far corner. A LOT of time was spent beforehand to figure out the exact number of steps needed. For weeks, my footsteps covered the entire house to calculate precisely where the creaks and cracks of the floor were so itd be easy to quietly complete the mission. I had even noted when people woke up when they went to sleep. Everything was carefully planned out. I felt like 007 planning a spy mission to escape dangerous territory.