In the Christian world, this is called testimony, in the publishing world it is called memoir. Some would say unauthorized if you listen to the gossip that swirls around my name, some would say authorized because I have never denied the rumours of me being a saint or an asshole, I just am me.
And for the record, as it seems time there was one sort of accurate available: I was not born a Minister—Protestant, Universalist or otherwise—I was born Tyler Richard Ragan, baptized in the second month of life Anglican (St. George’s parish) in a Catholic School gymnasium (love the shot of the b-ball hoop behind the priest when I am presented).
For good measure I attended the local Alliance church pre-school, not cause my family are some born again yahoos, but because the local community one had many weird things circulating (I stood beside my neighbour, the sheik kid singing Jesus loves me). To round out my theological education as a child I attended the ecumenical Vacation Bible School in our area, signed up through the (Centennial) Presbyterian Church, until my eleventh year on this planet.
The essence of my childhood was that I was taught there is a God, Jesus is his son, God loves you, stand up for what you believe in, help the poor, and yes love does solve most problems (oh and it’s all the same bloody God so why kill over it).
I was bullied in elementary school, and sadly, it led me to join a bullying group on occasion (not my finer moments as a living douche bag). From a young age I suffered chronic bronchitis’, ear infections, and convulsions. The convulsions led to me being placed on Phenobarbitrol, around age 9 I came off that, with scar tissue remnants on the brain (more on that later).
Back to my journey with the institution that is Christendom, there was nothing after 11 years old for me in the summers in regards to VBS, and as such I began to journey through other religions to discover my community.
It was also while entering Junior High School that my Grandpa died, he was a good man, and a bad man, but more on him later in the journey about self-revelations. His death also created a rift in my family over remembered and non-remembered memories. My Granddad (best friend read) was also diagnosed with Emphysema during this time and I became one of the close relatives that would spend time with him and help him as he journeyed down the pathway home.
I will digress here a little bit, as my Granddad was a war hero too me, he served in World War II in the Royal Canadian Signal Corps, he was a machinist, and a hobby carpenter.
Junior High is also the time to put to rest the rumour that started that I lost my virginity when I was 12 years old…sadly this is false, but man in high school was it one rumour I didn’t mind circulating (LOL). There was also a rumour starting that I commenced drinking while in Junior High School, I may have sampled some alcohol, but I was not a drinker.
In fact, in Junior High, like much of High School I was a honour roll student, Trekkie, role playing game, and comic book geek, that had few close friends, some were female, who saw me as “that good guy” and I worked hard against that mold, and unfortunately hurt many decent people. But that my dear reader is why adolescents is a bitch.
For the first two phases of public school I got into a few fights, and won more than I lost, which is pretty good for a chunky geek J in my opinion.
But part of what the experience of the Gaould (has anyone else noted that the Gaould/Tokra give a yin-yang, anima-animus dichotomy to SG-1?) for me is the realization of being authentic with my past, so maybe this is part of the self-flagellating Roman Catholic in me, and this is part confessional.
My life really began to turn around in high school as I finally managed to break away from the “friends” from elementary/junior high school as they all went to James Fowler and I headed to Lester B. Pearson High School. Why was this a good break? Simple, the Properties Communities of North East Calgary were designed to be a city within a city that functioned like a small town, so it was great to go to a school more geared towards academics. It was there that in Grade 10 phys.ed (a course I used to despise) I discovered the weight room. My 15th year was a year of physical transformation as I shed over 100lbs. Slimmed down, chopped off my already thinning thin hair, started getting my ears pierced, and yes, some girl’s started to notice me as more than just “the friend”.
I have deeply studied and practiced most of the world’s religions, I have had the great fun of having been apart of the Future Entrepreneurs of Canada, Model Parliaments, Debate Clubs, Junior Achieve of Southern Alberta (even going to the WESJA Conference), taking the Dale Carnegie Course, Alberta Theatre Projects Writerific program, Science Olympics, Writer’s Guilds and working for the Calgary Sun as a writer all while in high school.
My confidence went up, yet I was still feeling shaky, anxious, and afraid that I did not fit in. I had multiple girlfriends and was actually afraid of being lonely, mostly because I struggled with my sexuality, and did not want to have to deal with homophobia. I was not gay, but neither was I straight, essentially I did not and do not hold to those labels, I believe there is one person out there for each of us that God has made that completes us and it is that journey for the person that brings two pieces of one soul together in God.
In my grade 11 year, my Granddad took a turn for the worst and that summer he would pass away. I would be a paul bearer at his funeral, and my anxiety and low self-worth would spiral into depression where I would contemplate suicide throughout my grade 12 year.
Did I attempt? That is a good question. The answer is…
No.
I did however manage to do things that isolated me socially and created a false me that pushed people away. I played up the “tough guy” persona, I was a prick to girls I authentically liked and wanted to date, playing around with their emotions and then tossing them aside, and a small part of me cared, but then I would go back to my “contemplative centre” and realize in the grand scheme of things it did not matter.
Behaviours I know that I myself am ashamed of, and for the life of me cannot remember all those I hurt, but to those out there that I did, I deeply apologize. I lied quite a bit, especially around sexual conquests and alcohol use (in spite of my spiralling depression, I never actually drank in high school). Essentially after school I would do my extra-curricular, work my part time job at Chuck E. Cheese (do what I could to keep my co-workers at a distance); and yup I lied about being a Don Juan (think Charlie Harper with less integrity if you can); and most people saw me as a tough guy they did not want to mess with.
But it was January of my grade 12 year when it unravelled through a hatchet job with a dull razor on my scalp that led to an opening up about my depression to my parents, and helped me get on a more even keel for the rest of the year and make it through as someone who was an honour roll student, but got out of high school with second class honours.
My graduation led to a job as a grocery packer at the local Calgary Co-op as I decided I needed a year off to find myself, and what a joke that was.