Becoming the Lesson: My Journey Toward Acceptance

I follow several YouTubers in Thailand. Most of them focus on personal and special interest development.

Today’s post is based on, and meant to comment on, a YouTuber I follow of the same age and subscribe to who has retired in Korat, Thailand.

I already posted comments and then after I read it, I saw it as a credible source for my next Blog.

Here are my original comments to the Youtuber in Korat. Postscripts are visible with italics.

Becoming the Lesson

At 2:23 you said, "It’s my opinion, and I’m allowed to have an opinion—it’s my channel..."

I wish more people understood that message. Just because we have different opinions doesn’t mean one has to be right and the other wrong. You've always shared your thoughts respectfully and made it clear that people should be free to have their own opinions—as long as it’s not hurting anyone - at least that seems to be your position. Your posts have consistently been respectful - and framing your ideas as an opinion is credible. 

I’ve been with my Thai fiancée for 5 years. She’s 47, and I’m 61. I’m nearing the end of my full-time working life, and she’s still in the middle of hers. What I love most about our life together is the mutual respect we have while giving each other space—to walk our own paths and shape our own journeys—because we’re at different stages in life and have our own beliefs.

At the same time, when our interests and shared life converge and we do things and make plans together, it’s a great feeling to have the intimacy of our companionship and mutual respect. It’s the most loving and peaceful relationship I have.

Seeing her in this vibrant chapter—young, independent, fit, and financially stable—is inspiring on so many levels. Perhaps also selfishly, because I don’t have to worry about her. We know that we’re okay on our own, but we definitely agree that we’re better together.

Our current lifestyle is an upgrade as a team, but not that far from where we’d be if we were living solo—her with her kids and me in my own place. More of a committed dating life - we do not want that life. I like living with people and I also know I need solo time and space. We’re both set up to be caretakers of that lifestyle. We kind of have a similar vibe and grove that align.

My life and habits have a different shape, purpose and rhythm than hers, but I’m aware of and grounded in my own path. And yet, our paths are deeply intertwined. We love each other to bits. Her youthfulness and vibrancy are like a guiding star. Every day I admire it and look at it with affection. She’s always doing things and learning and keeping up. I am a lucky man.

What would she say about me?

Maybe one day you’ll meet her, and you too will understand why I fell in love with her—it all began when she stood by my side during the early stages of my cancer diagnosis and treatment. And that was after we’d been dating for about four months. 

I gave her an easy out—no hard feelings, I’d understand and all that. I meant it too. We liked each other for sure, it was truly magnetic, and had both entertained private thoughts of a future together, but my heart was still in the neutral zone and I kind had eye for heading back to Canada, but the timing was off too - I allowed covid and my cancer to get in the way of the PLAN C. She refused to walk away and did what she needed to do to show me her true self. She blew me away.

When we talked about what needed to be done, she said, “What would you do if you were me? Would you walk away from me in a time of need? I don’t know what you would do, but I’m not going anywhere.” Then, a few weeks later, she was changing my catheter bag and tube. That’s when I looked at her — and that’s when my heart moved out of the neutral zone.

Finally having a supportive partner—a Thai woman—in my life and allowing myself to truly let her in has been the second-best decision I’ve ever made. Letting go of a fixed Western outlook was the first—and it made all the difference, creating space for the second to happen.

I inherited a long and often delayed learning curve, and I always saw it as a negative trait. It wasn’t until I rewired my perspective that I began to see the real strength in my learning process. Now, I interpret it as a sign of wisdom that comes with age. That’s how I make sense of the changes I’ve gone through.

My Journey Toward Acceptance

I’ve become a better person—partner, father, son, brother, friend, and more. I’d like to believe I could have come to this place of growth if I had stayed in Canada (we left in 1999), but honestly, who I am today is largely shaped by the influence of Thai culture and my fiancée, of course that is not discounting the years of growth prior to living in Thailand. 

Nor am I relying solely on my Western perspective to gauge or understand things that might be confusing, or situations where I might appear disadvantaged or taken advantage of—a common experience for many long-term expats.

Many of us arrived too early in life or landed in the wrong tribe and formed seriously unhealthy habits. Once you realize it's not working, you have to start over. That can be lonely, expensive and exhausting. 

Habits will take the lead in your depression, situational burnout, and highly unproductive activities like binge-watching, believing that your grumpiness is justified by ageism. Then, when you see others your age—regardless of their background—looking amazing and healthy, you convince yourself that you're not successful or wealthy because of them. That’s flawed thinking.

My advice to guys—especially those in their post-divorce years or navigating their 60s and single—is this: Know your purpose. 

Live with intention and be the creator of your own life. Don’t forget your responsibility to your future financial needs. Start shaping that reality in your younger years and never let the gremlins in—those who aim to take from you and derail your plans.

Now, when I return to Canada to visit my adult kids and family—I was recently blessed with a six-week extended stay—I’m reminded of how much my perspective on life has shifted. I see the world through a different lens now, and while there’s still a deep affection for the place, I once called home, it no longer feels entirely mine.

Take something as simple as tipping: what was once a gesture of appreciation has now become an expectation, often ranging from 18 to 30 percent on top of the bill. On a recent visit to an Ontario restaurant, I ordered a beer and a main dish and waited five minutes for it to arrive. It was fine and then done. I didn’t see the server again until I asked for the bill. I was in that craft pub for maybe 45 to 50 minutes. Spent all of 8 minutes with the server.

Yes, they were friendly and engaged in minor bantering while taking the order—but that was about it. There was no real engagement, no attention to the dining experience itself. It’s a sharp contrast to more upscale places, where servers are expected to build a rapport with guests over the course of the evening. That kind of service? That’s worth tipping.

Tipping Culture is not about a cultural dynamic at all. It's become obligation. No matter how many years I’ve spent living abroad, every time I return to the West, I feel that silent pressure settles in—especially when the bill arrives. These days, it seems like you’re practically committing a social sin if you even consider tipping less than 20%. It’s not just expected; it’s demanded. And while I understand the arguments—yes, many service workers rely on tips to survive—my discomfort isn’t rooted in a lack of generosity. It’s rooted in choice.

What exactly did that server do to earn an extra 20 or even 30%? Was it exceptional service? Did they go out of their way to connect, offer something unique, or make the experience memorable? Or are we simply following a script that’s no longer about appreciation, but about fear—fear of being judged, shamed, or labeled cheap?

Tipping has somehow morphed from a gesture of gratitude into an obligation. And if you stray from the script—say, you tip 10%—you risk getting a cold stare or making your guest feel awkward or embarrassed. The freedom to choose what service is worth gets lost in the social performance.

Living in Thailand has shown me a different model—one that feels more genuine. Here, tipping isn’t forced or expected. It’s a personal decision. You determine the value of that moment, based on how you felt about the interaction. And more often than not, tipping is seen as a response to something exceptional, not a baseline requirement.

Maybe that’s what bothers me most. It’s not about the money—it’s about the meaning. When tipping becomes the norm rather than the exception, it loses its soul. Generosity shouldn’t be policed.

I miss it at times. I even find myself daydreaming about living there again and have to gently quiet the pull to return permanently. But in my heart and soul, I know that settling there full-time is no longer the right path for me. I remain proud of my Canadian citizenship—though I was born in the UK—I will always be a Proud Canadian. Still, it no longer shapes the foundation of my beliefs or how I move through the world.

One day, when circumstances allow me the time and resources to live between Ontario, Canada, and Thailand, it will test the choices I’ve made in shaping a lifestyle that supports a safe, healthy, and happy life. I know I’ve made many mistakes. I used to believe mistakes were the result of a long or delayed learning curve—but I no longer see it that way. I won’t bore you with the details of how I came to that realization. 

What’s more important to understand is that the root of many of my failures lies in trust—I tend to trust too early, too quickly, ignore signals and I try too hard to build relationships on that trust. Nine times out of ten, it fails.

It wasn’t effective because I wasn’t being authentic—and the energy it takes to not be yourself is simply too much for someone of my age and experience. Really, though, it’s hard for many people to keep up with fueling the tank with fake energy. Because it is not real fuel, you will burn out.

Today, I am about 90% myself wherever I go. That’s a huge improvement from under 50% ten years ago. Back then, I could only be myself when I was alone — that’s fucking 100% grade-A loneliness, the highest level of being completely alone and isolated all at once, crashing into the same damn consciousness. It was brutal. And at that time in my life, I was married with two kids and had many friends and colleagues. Where are they now? - the friends and colleagues I mean?

Why were so many people hard on me? Why did I have such low self-respect that I allowed them to stomp on me? Then allowed me to strike back and become a mean man and terrible person? That was not really me. Eventually they walked away. Many walked away not because I wanted that to happen, but because they didn’t want me in their lives anymore. We did not fit. It seemed that I was toxic, and the evidence was there to prove it - so I listened and chased my reset. Was I really all that terrible of a person? What a sad state?!

So, what’s their role in the relationship? And when’s that going to show up on the accountability table? May be that is good fuel for Blog #24?

In one case, he cut me off after 50 years of friendship. One week he was there, and the next he was gone. SNAP! Just like that… cut off. And he waited until I was back overseas and did by text message - Yes, that is exactly what I thought at the time. Coward! He is the Godfather of my son, WTF!

We actually had lunch together just a few weeks earlier, and he gave no signs of a breakup.

No, we’re not gay—we just loved each other for so long I was under the impression we were more than friends. I made the assumption that we were family, because that’s how I saw him in my life. He was my brother.

I used to have this pattern of believing I meant more to people than I actually did—imagining I held a deeper place in their lives than was real. It’s a painful realization, and one that left me feeling quite alone. These days, I try not to place myself where I haven’t truly been invited.

The sick part of this story is that if he contacted me today and asked to see me or share his life with me, and wanted a video call, I’d JUMP for joy and go anywhere to have him back in my life. That’s sick. 

I still have this vision of the two of us in our 80s, sitting on the porch with drinks in hand, looking back at our intention —with affection, reflection, and a touch of affliction. What a beautiful thing it could still be to build together. Oh well…dream on.

The good thing is I will not just be anyone, so that I can get people back in my life — including him. Being myself is what helps me live a safe, healthy, and happy life now. I love him, but of course, I have my limits. 

Am I lonely? Sometimes being alone feels like loneliness, but I think it’s more about longing—for belonging, for purpose. That’s where I’m at right now. Figuring out my purpose will be the third next best decision I make.

It’s about to happen. I know because it’s sending me its signals. I just need to inhale at the right moment and then all will shift to the next level. 

Self-acceptance won’t just be something I read about — it’s something I’ll live. And that, folks, is my opinion.