2025 and What I Learned From the Girl in the Itty Bitty String Bikini…..

January 1st. I choose to hit “snooze”. I am not ready to embrace a “New Year” and definitely not ready for “New Year – New Me”. I am saving myself for Monday January 6th and embracing a gradual entry into the new year and slowly adjusting to potential life changes. Call this the “evaluation stage”.

“New Year – New Me” doesn’t resonate. There is nothing “new” about me. I’m more about modifications with room for upgrades. I’m also realistic enough to recognize that if “lose 5 pounds” has been on the list for the past 6 years, I’m not actually that committed. Time for a new story line.

In order to look forwards, I have to look backwards. Sometimes we pay attention to more of the “ugh” than the successes. 2024 was a big year for me. I finished my schooling, changed careers, we celebrated 30 years of marriage, we sold our house of 18 years, moved, survived chemo, saw our youngest graduate and learned a million lessons about gratitude and humility along the way. In short….we made it through some muck and came out ok if not a whole lot stronger.

So now that we came through, I realize how different the landscape is. Our new house is lovely. I feel like we have kind of “adulted”. For the first time in 30 years, I have more than one bathroom. I have a fridge that makes ice AND dispenses water. If that’s not enough “adulting”, I also now have a coat closet where guests can hang their coats. Heck, I even bought hangers.

And while all that is lovely, the reality is that the kids have embarked on their own adventures. The health crisis is averted and I feel an emptiness. I don’t have hockey games to volunteer at or grad meetings to attend and just recently, I left a board after 16 years because it was time to make room for younger people. For me, 2025 is the year of “now what?”

As I contemplate 2025, I needed to take stock. I am a slightly plump middle age woman who doesn’t know how to use an eyebrow pencil or have hobbies. I likely indulge in too much wine, call my children too often and there is a good chance that since I just discovered how “reels” work, I might never get out of bed. OMG. I might as well go buy 10 cats and buy brown shoes with “sturdy insoles”. I suck. You can see why I hit snooze. I am not ready to launch into 2025. There is more contemplate. Being happy with cleaning more than one bathroom and rewarding myself with ice cold water from my fridge seems pathetic.

It’s not that I don’t want to take on new challenges, I just get overwhelmed. I want to travel but the “world is your oyster” just makes me realize that I am not a huge fan of oysters. What if I hate my choice? I search and choose and semi-plan and then get overwhelmed and find it easier to immerse myself in the deluge of Netflix options. Pathetic.

I need a serious overhaul.

A few weeks ago I went walking with one of my oldest friends and she said “I just didn’t want to be that person any longer and I stopped”. That resonated. I totally understood what she was saying. I don’t want to be a new person (far too exhausting) but I do want to take steps to shed habits that don’t reflect who I want to be. I want to start being who I thought I would be and not compromising on that vision. I had started to stop breathing and contemplated buying cats. I hate cats (no offence) but I want to start to live and not just exist because I stopped mid-sentence in this journey called life.

I likely feel this acutely because of what we just went through with Wayne but also because of the path we walked with my friend Tera. Last year she hadn’t been feeling well and while we all hoped it was just “something”, we never imagined that in April 2024, she would be diagnosed with a rare live cancer.

Tera and my husband Wayne went through early chemo treatments together. They got hooked up and then played crib. Her mom always made the best lunches and then they napped. As time progressed, they both needed transfusions and both went through weird complications. Our sons were best friends and when it came to graduation, neither of them could fully participate because they were so immune compromised.

As time went by, Wayne’s numbers got stronger but Tera wasn’t bouncing back. No one said the word “terminal” but that is what is was. I was wracked with guilt and confusion. Who gets chosen to leave and who gets to stay behind? How does this work and how is it fair?

These aren’t new questions. We all ask them when someone we love and care about is tapped to leave. I tried to ask Tera about her feelings and she wasn’t prepared to engage. I was angry and I awkwardly expressed that to her. I voiced out loud “why you?” to which she replied, “why not me?”.

I can’t describe that moment. “Why not me?”. I had a thousand answers that I thought I might hear but her answer closed the door. She said, “I’ve had a good life. I’ve done things I’ve wanted to do, I’ve watched my son graduate and so much more. I have good friends and I have good memories. I have no regrets.”

Tera was a community titan. She was fierce in her advocacy of kids and she bulldozed her way through any obstacle to ensure our kids, in our small town had access to bigger opportunities. She held a picture of possibility in her head and she encouraged us to jump on board. Let’s be honest, we didn’t have much choice, she was compelling and we fell in line and because of her, the world was technicolour.

Thanks to Tera our kids played in two provincial championships for ball, provincials for soccer, won two provincial U18 hockey championships and her son and our son Owen went to New Brunswick as part of Team BC for Nationals for softball. For a town of less than 2300 people, she opened doors we didn’t know were possible. She was a force and she did it for the kids and what she wanted them to experience and as a result, they experienced things that would otherwise been left invisible.

She wasn’t just a visionary, she was more. She had been my daughter’s kindergarten teacher and she was the mother of Owen’s best friend Devin. From birth, our sons have been intertwined just like Tera has been intertwined in my life. And while we were intertwined, I have to say that we were not a traditional version of friends. We didn’t hang out on week-ends and I wasn’t invited to girls-get-aways but when things had to get done, we came together. We shared values; we showed up, we leaned in, we pulled it together and we didn’t back down. Our friendship was built on shared ethics and no matter what, I could count on Tera to be the difference.

Once she received her diagnosis, she arranged a gathering of women who she felt closest to. She organized an entire afternoon to pedicures, manicures, conversation, laughs and yes….. there was the option to get a tattoo.

I was incredibly touched that I had been asked to join this group of women and of course, I chose the tattoo. Not because of “group pressure” but because a valiant and courageous woman knew that she was not long and wanted to create a bond between women that would last beyond her time. Symbols matter. Relationships resonate and each day, this symbol matters to me.

The months passed and I truly wanted to believe that there was hope. I invited her and her family to our Christmas party for December 20th and she said “you know I will come if I can”. I thought maybe she was having a bad bout but she knew it was more. She knew the truth and on Friday, December 13th at 2pm, she chose MAiD and she was gone.

I am not at peace with her passing and the tears still well up when I think of her and the gap that is left. I can’t imagine what it must have been for her contemplating MAiD (Medically Assistance in Dying). How did it go so fast and yet so slow? It was so fucking painful for her and yet, she never wanted you to know. When you “fight cancer”, you fight the pain, the hurt, the loss, the injustice and you fight to hold on but cancer is a beast. She was strong and brave and courageous and wouldn’t speak of death. She only wanted to hear the daily gossip, check in on the kids but she wouldn’t talk about her journey. What it must have been for her to make the final choice to leave her son, her parents, her sister, her husband and friends. If it hadn’t of been beyond bearable, I know she would have stayed on. On Friday December 13th, all I could think about was how many hours she had left. She was dying and her family was dying with her. While death might have been a relief, the loss remains immense and I am still angry. Why?

I look at my tattoo every day and realize that she asked us to do this so she was able to hold on, to know that when things got hard, she knew she had a circle of trust to rely on. I told her that I loved her and I was indebted to her but it doesn’t make the loss ache any less. Why her? Why anyone who always punched above their weight and make the difference?

In the face of cancer, she didn’t dwell on death. She focused on life—on the people around her, on her values, on the moments that mattered. I will carry that lesson with me for the rest of my life. Tera showed me that a life well-lived is one where you don’t back down, you take chances, and you make a difference.

So as I step into 2025, I find myself asking: “What would Tera do if she had five more years?” She’d keep making a difference. She’d keep pushing the boundaries of what’s possible. I want to be able to say what Tera said. I don’t want regrets, I want to live a full live and I don’t want to stop short. I want to reach high.

I have a future, and I refuse to waste it. That’s why I hit snooze on 2025—because I’m still gathering my thoughts, but I’m ready to act. I’ve been too comfortable for too long. I’ve become an expert at convincing myself that it’s easier to stay in my bubble than to make the change I know I need.

But here’s the thing: change doesn’t have to be dramatic. It can start with something small. A few weeks ago, I was at a bistro, having brunch, and watching people do “cold plunging” in the ocean. Most of them shrieked and retreated quickly, but one woman in a tiny string bikini walked into the cold water without flinching. She stayed in for almost 30 minutes. I was fascinated and upon closer view, I wondered what she was holding in her hand. And I realized, she was filming herself. Maybe she was an influencer, maybe a “wannabe” influencer or maybe just documenting herself not giving into the cold. Whatever it was, her fortitude was inspiring. It made me wonder: what could I do if I believed in myself the way she believed in hers?

I have grown comfortable and likely this is my major vice. Coupled with my superb salesmanship, I can keep myself in a state of mediocrity forever. Here is a sample of my persuasive abilities:

“Oh look, a chocolate chip cookie for breakfast. That looks delicious”. “You should enjoy it. Yum, chocolate chip cookie dipped in coffee; that is the way to start the day. Why don’t you enjoy your morning? It’s just a little bit, it can’t hurt……” And with that….the cookie is inhaled, the second glass of wine enjoyed, the butter on fresh bread savoured….. I’m fantastic talking myself into things and then wondering “why is nothing changing?” Oh dear god, the obvious is so easy to hide in denial. No wonder people take in cats and pretend they are fine!

Given my talent for talking myself into vices, I needed something to revert the pattern. While I can’t fit a bikini, I could practice a cold water experience. It’s been a mild winter where we live and the lake that is normally frozen is still clear. I drove to the lake and walked straight in, dunked my head and was back in my car within 30 seconds. No health benefits enjoyed but I did show myself that I could do something uncomfortable.

I went back four more times and each time, I stayed in the water a little longer. At last count, I am at 30 seconds and can dunk my head. I am aiming to actually swim for at least 3 minutes. We’ll see.

It’s uncomfortable, but it’s been a small act of bravery that reminds me I can do hard things. And I’m ready for more.

2024 was my year of gratitude. In 2025, I’m committed to taking action—whether that’s traveling, pursuing dreams, or simply making a difference in my community, just as Tera did. I will take her torch and keep it burning bright. I’ll embrace change, and I won’t let fear hold me back.

So here’s to 2025—to making change, connection and doing what seems to be improbable. It doesn’t require a string bikini, just the courage to jump.

For 2025, I wish that each of you find your ambition and give it light and energy. It’s only our minds that limit our potential. I know that is the premise of every self help book imaginable but try cold water and seeing what you can do if you choose to endure just 5 more seconds. Change is incremental but it happens with consistency.

To you my friends, I hope that 2025 is the year you want. The year that makes you proud and the year that you stretch further than you imagined possible. I think we can. And we don’t even have to wear the string bikini to make it so.

With love and appreciation,

Shelley