Author: Shelley Sim

Being Fired & Letting Go….

Our youngest, Owen, arrived back from college and announced “Mom, I’ve got this”. I wasn’t really sure what this meant. Did he mean that he might finally clean his room? Give the bathroom a scrub? Take out the garbage? Make dinner? What did “I’ve got this” mean?


I never wanted children. I leaned more towards having a cleaning lady. The math made more sense. Also, I do love a good clean floor. It continues to surprise me that I have three children and 35 chickens. More surprising is the 10-year gap between our eldest and the youngest. Many think our youngest, Owen, is a result of a second marriage. Not so. I have vague recollections of a six pack of Corona and a sunny afternoon. But that’s another story.

For 29 years I have been a mother to three wonderful children. Yes, I made mistakes and have fully committed to paying their therapy bills but overall, they are great and they bring me joy. I spent years cheering at games, volunteering at bake sales, coaching, excelling at 50/50 sales, attending parent committee meetings and being a part of launching young souls into the world of adulthood. And then, this past April, I was officially laid off. More directly, I was fired.

Our youngest, Owen, arrived back from college and announced “Mom, I’ve got this”. I wasn’t really sure what this meant. Did he mean that he might finally clean his room? Give the bathroom a scrub? Take out the garbage? Make dinner? What did “I’ve got this” mean?

I hoped it meant the above but apparently he meant something different. He was ready to “adult”. However, “adulting” is a staged experience where he gets to pick and choose. He may think he is an “adult” but clearly, I am still the cleaning lady. See paragraph one. This isn’t quite what I was aiming for.

I had been hopeful for domestic contribution not separation papers. Owen meant that he no longer wanted my help. He felt that we “don’t work well together”. He also cited that I “complicate things” and my follow through was not the vision he had. This would be a good time to also insert that while college was fun, it was a painful academic experience and I “made him do it”. All this led to. “Mom, you need to just let me do it myself. I don’t need your help”.

Fired. No retirement party, no watch and not even a letter of recommendation and certainly no pension. I had been unceremoniously “dismissed”.

I always knew the mission was to help them spread their wings and fly but secretly, I didn’t want to let go. I still wanted to hold the string. More like a kite than a bird. And then, Owen cut the string.

To quote the Lion King, this is “the circle of life”. I went through it with our older two kids who are 29 and 26. The difference is that when they let go, I still had Owen. Now, I just have me and who am I if I am not needed as a mom? And please don’t tell me that I am the domestic help. That hasn’t been the most rewarding volunteer experience.

The reality is that my kids are grown. My chapter of being the centre of their world is over. I have been laid off and am redundant. All those wonderful moments of being busy with them is something of the past. Our relationship has changed and I have to get used to the fact that they don’t need me the way they used to. In fact, they have assured me that they don’t need me at all. Well, unless I invite them for dinner. Great. More dishes.

One might think that I would rejoice in having all this new found time. In truth, I am bored to tears. I miss being busy with kids and volunteering. I miss cheering at games and my days being full with their activities. I miss being needed. Now what?

With Owen returning home in April and making his grand statement of independence, I had to ask myself what was my next move. Sure, it’s great that my daughter Megan asks me to watch her puppy but really, it’s not quite what I was looking for to fill my days. I had to start thinking forward and figuring out my next moves.

I took up gardening. I heard people loved it. Planting little seeds and delighting as the little heads popped up promising bountiful crops. So I tried it (again!). I planted all the little seeds and lovingly watered them and watched their little heads pop up. Small glitch. I wasn’t quite sure what was supposed to be the start of my bounty and what was a weed so I just let it all grow and thought I would just figure it out. It turns out that my lovingly planted cilantro seeds died and I spent months nurturing a very pretty selection of weeds. I have decided that I will serve the world better by supporting farmers markets. They take debit cards and no skill required.

Since I crossed off gardening from my list. I had to keep looking. Life was a clean slate and I further decreed that summer 2025 would be the Summer of Yes! I would say “yes” to everything and see what happened.

My husband Wayne and I were invited to join a group on a fishing trip to the West Coast of British Columbia. I said yes. Ok, maybe I don’t like fishing, but in the spirit of adventure, I thought it would be a great holiday for us. We hadn’t had a holiday as just the two of us since before the kids were born. I thought it would be great. And it was. We met the nicest people and got to see a beautiful part of our country. It was an excellent “yes”.

We were asked to go on a hiking / rafting trip and again, I said “yes”. It was a glorious adventure that took us to places that I never imagined that I would see. And while it was amazing, my husband Wayne and I still don’t fully mesh over our versions of wilderness camping. Not going to lie, there were sharp tones and some terse replies and some long stretches of silence but no one accidently died in their sleep.

I don’t know what it is with me and Wayne. Why can’t we get along when the excursion involves a tent and a backpack? I think it has something to do with the fact that he is all geared up and he looks after himself. I don’t recall him doing the grocery shopping or meal planning or the packing but he does look good in those expensive hiking pants. I got grouchy because I was walking through the bush in my Costco shorts. My backpack was driving me crazy because it’s not my backpack. I had to borrow one. And my thermarest that was supposed to blow up to be a nice cushion had a hole in it. I guess after 25 years, things wear out. And not just me….

You see, while I was cooking, cleaning, organizing, planning and nurturing for the future, everyone else was adventuring and had the gear. I missed the memo that there was life outside of being a mom. I get grouchy with Wayne because after all these years, I think I just wanted him to look after me. I wanted him to see if I had the right gear, to check and see what help I needed and to acknowledge that the ten year gap meant that I stayed home with Owen while he was out and about with the older two. Those ten years was a decade that I didn’t develop skills, or build up gear. I stayed home. And yes, that is somewhat melodramatic. Even as I write it, I see it as a little whiny (maybe a lot) but there is a sprinkle of truth. I shouldn’t have gotten grouchy. I just missed the memo to not only care for the family but also to care for me.

So I pressed on and said YES to a bike trip in Quebec. That was a tough one. For years, we have done everything for the kids so it was new for me to spend indulgently on myself but I forced myself to say “yes”. A friend and I traveled to Montreal and then spent a week biking to Quebec City. It was marvelous. We also stayed in hotels.

In September, When I got back from biking, I entered a baking competition, signed up for hockey school and ripped out the damn garden. I didn’t win the baking competition, sucked at hockey school but felt exhilarated with eradicating my garden of weeds. Fresh start.

My children are grown and I am adrift and looking to find new direction and purpose. I feel left behind. I think that this is common. I think others might feel it too. I think each of us have an ache when things come to and end. When a career comes to an end, when friendships run their course, when relationships wither and definitely when loved ones die.

Anna Quindlen described this as the “before and after”. Maybe I have written that before but it continues to resonate deeply. It describes change with pain and loss. The feeling of being left behind through no fault of our own or maybe we made a choice to make change and that process was hard and left us feeling raw. Change is inevitable but bloody hell, no one mentioned having to become a contortionist to survive this journey called life.

The feeling of being left behind has also forced me to peek out the door and stare in the mirror. Who have I left behind? Who did I let go without severance or notice or even a reason? If you are hearing my insides churn, they are. Karma appears to be real. It’s making me think where I need to do better and what amends I need to make. I’m worried that I have likely hurt people and have been oblivious to my callousness. Now I feel really nauseous. Life is somewhat unrelenting as we get hurled against the rocks to perhaps become weathered and smooth. I likely have as many thank you notes as apology letters. Oh good. Something to do other than mop the floors.

Life is not easy. It’s complicated, messy, uncertain and at times unkind and unrelenting. I hate the ache. I despise being untethered from a sense of purpose and to top it off, my favourite jeans don’t fit anymore. Just when you thought it couldn’t get worse. It does.

Winston Churchill said it well. “When you’re going through hell, keep going”. I never understood that quote, until I did. But what I also understand is that it is hell going through change but it gets better if I stick it out.

Yes, I was fired but that doesn’t mean that my children don’t love me. They are just ready to be their own people. It’s just different. The chapter is over but the story goes on. The characters develop and new plot lines begin.

Loss hurts and change is painful. I feel that. If you have had similar feelings, you are not alone. We will lose opportunities, friendships, loved ones and it will hurt in places we didn’t know it could hurt. When we are robbed of something we love, it’s easy to keel over and gasp for air. And while we will be forever changed by the loss, there will be room to grow towards something new. We won’t be the same but we can be something new.

I am going to keep looking for ways to say YES. Yes to new friends, ideas, adventures and new hobbies. I will also keep baking, trying to improve at hockey but I am ok giving up gardening. I am also learning to feel empowered to break patterns. Sometimes, Tuesday night dinner is cheese and crackers. If anyone wants something different, they can cook. I was fired and now, I am free.

Here’s to holding hands when our hearts hurt and to believing in new beginnings.

With love,

Shelley

One Day……

This summer is the summer of “YES”. I’m not going to overthink things, I’m just saying YES and it’s been awesome. Maybe things haven’t worked out but maybe that was just training in disguise. I did learn from my mistakes and maybe that was the point.


“Stop trying to write your story with someone else’s pen and, instead, start using your own.” – MJ DeMarco, author of Unscripted

I’m reading a book right now that is nothing but smut and it’s delicious! A perfect summer afternoon read. There are no surprises. Unsuspecting woman becomes hero after having to work incredibly hard to earn the respect of her team. Especially, the team leader and…..wait for it…..who is in love with her. Oh the tension that persists over the next 200 pages. I am reading the perfectly scripted romance with a happy ending. Love it.

It would be nice if this was life. Just follow a script; the infamous “Life Handbook” that comes with step-by-step instructions. Not complicated like IKEA but easy like Apple TV and with pictures.

I last wrote about having a big life dream but being afraid to pursue it. Reader response was kind and generous with the encouragement to “just do it”. I can see why this was so successful for NIKE. I think it’s great for a t-shirt but to put it into action? Scary. Very scary.

If I just “did it”, this is my biggest fear:

Said person pursues dream and puts everything on the line. She believes with all her heart that this is possible. The house is re-financed. The car is sold. She can no longer indulge in good coffee but drinks Folgers instant coffee knowing the sacrifice is worth it. After all the blood, sweat, and tears, the day finally arrives. She flings open the door. She is ready to welcome the world only to find that no is there and she has failed.

Monsters are real. Bad things happen. Life is scary. And love doesn’t last (yes, team leader, I’m talking to you!)

Why would I think this? Oh, let me count my reasons.

  • I have run businesses before, and it is noteworthy to mention that I am not anymore…..
  • I thought it was a good idea to raise pigs. I still can’t eat pork.
  • Covid was not financially kind
  • I have opened the door and saw the monsters. They had bad names called “Unemployment” and “Cancer” and they moved in with us.
  • My eyesight sucks and so does my confidence.

    I have other things that suck too. My sense of style, fashion, timing and I have a pushy personality that can be irritating. My husband Wayne will attest that he is not enamored with my many questions and relentless inquiry. He finds me exhausting at times. I am pretty sure this is why he took up hunting. A hobby that requires complete silence. Note to self.

    When Wayne got sick and then lost his job, the floor fell out from under me. He then got really sick last year. Chronic moved into something I didn’t recognize. He couldn’t catch his breath walking to the end of the driveway. Just getting up was hard. I didn’t know this new reality and I moved into full fear. What if he didn’t get better? What if cancer won?

    Over the past year, I have put all my energy into being “safe” and “comfortable”. And we are. It wasn’t always this way. For years, we lived on the edge and there were many sleepless nights when I stayed awake with worry. But it worked out and truth be told, I liked the adventure. There is something satisfying about the stories that we can now tell. It wasn’t a scripted life and no guarantee of the happy ending, and it was marvelous.

    But then we got older, and shit got real and somewhere in the middle, I lost my nerve.

    People ask me how I like the new house etc. I have been wondering why I don’t immediately say “I love it”. Yes, having more than one bathroom still feels like a luxury. A linen closet? Be still my beating heart and a freezer that makes ice? Heaven. It’s comfortable but what is uncomfortable is the cost of it all. Working to be “safe” is wearing thin. I feel beholden to work in a way that I never have. I now understand the phrase “bored to death” and I can’t live like that. I am going to dread the next twenty years if I continue to choose “safe” and don’t jump.

    So that’s what I am doing this summer. I am breaking up with comfort and safety. I am rebuilding the needed the skill set to “just do it”. This summer is the summer of “YES”. I’m not going to overthink things, I’m just saying YES to adventures, and it’s been awesome. Maybe things haven’t worked out but maybe that was just training in disguise. Maybe it was for the best. I did learn from my mistakes and maybe that was the point. Maybe that is how I got to “here”. Maybe “mistakes” are just directional signs in disguise.

    I am also looking at those around me as positive inspiration.

A friend recently wrote “…….it far exceeded every expectation we had. It would have stayed a “one day” dream if Kevin didn’t push to keep it moving forward and believing it could work”.

That’s what I want. I want my “one day” to become real and it won’t happen if I stay comfortable. My friends inspire me because they stepped outside of a scripted life and gave life to their dream. They are “just doing it” DESPITE a million setbacks. They persevered and it’s working. If it was easy, everyone would be doing it. I want to be in their camp. Doing it and not worrying about a life of regret.

There is a quote attributed to Albert Einstein that says “Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.“

I was stupid thinking that I could climb a tree. I am a fish. I know this because I am afraid of heights.

What if we (and by “we”, I mean “me”) lived with more confidence in our abilities and didn’t conform? What happens when we break from our script and suddenly discover we can do something bigger than our fears? What if we can swim?

I have been scared, and I don’t want to feel like that anymore. When I indulge in daydreaming about the things that I want to do, it feels incredibly peaceful. I love feeling how it feels and guess what? I never feel afraid. It’s the same sense I get when I am floating on my back on the lake or in the river. I feel weightless and then I look up at the sky with awe and wonder. No matter where you are, there are ways to look up.

Some of us are meant to climb and some are destined to swim. Maybe there are times when we need to climb because it’s not safe to swim. Maybe we have to swim when there is nowhere to climb. I think what Einstein was trying to articulate is that we shouldn’t stay in a place where we won’t thrive.

A friend of mine also went through cancer with her husband. We talked about it as the “before and after”. She described coming out of it with something that might be described as PTSD. I get that. Likely many of you have had the same experience. Something that shakes you so hard, you don’t know if you can ever come back together. Fear helped me hold it together. I am back together, and I don’t need to feel afraid anymore. We came through it. We’re safe and we don’t need to be afraid anymore. Bad things will always happen, but we get better at dealing with them. I wish that life was the smutty novel but what’s the fun in knowing the ending? Where’s the adventure in that?

Here’s to breaking free of that which holds us back. Here’s to looking up at the sky and making “one day” come true. I can’t wait to start!

Love,

Shelley

When fish “jump”!

Being Chicken and Hugging Trees…..

I felt connected and whole. I felt at peace, and I felt the weight of worry disappear. I felt the earth ground me and the tree reminded me of what it was to grow strong in the forest and not bend. I felt who I was and who I was supposed to be and all that I have been protecting is just a sham.


In the next 18 months, I have a big decision to make and it’s scaring me. If I do what I think I want to do, I am going to have to disrupt my life. I have two choices. Remain comfortable or take a chance. If I stay in my comfy chair, I know I will have regrets. If I take a chance, I am risking failure that could come with a very bruised ego and a financial cost. I am feeling “chicken”.

When Wayne was diagnosed with cancer, I made changes. I didn’t know what life was going to look like. He could barely walk down the driveway and he certainly couldn’t walk up stairs. I took measures to ensure we were “safe” because I felt so uncertain (and scared). We bought a new house that was less maintenance, I bought a new car because our old one was approaching a 400,000 km death. If Wayne couldn’t work, I needed the moment in time when the bank saw us as stable and I shored up our assets. I took on a new career and everything about each of those decisions was to ensure that we would be “ok”.

And now Wayne is well. We took care of the weird unspoken societal checklist; shelter, transportation and even savings. All noble but it feels very beige.

Living “safe” was the right decision at the time but now, I am reflecting on my decisions and the price of my choices. Maybe I have compromised. I enjoy what I do, and I really like my new car (who doesn’t love a heating steering wheel?) and I love that after 30 years, we have more than one bathroom. I also love the luxury of being able to buy butter because for many years, we could only afford margarine. The problem is that comfort comes at a cost. I have taken the “safe” path and a piece of me feels like I’m not really living the life that I dreamed.

I have an inner yearning to do something brave. It’s a calling that comes from the heart. Maybe you know what I am talking about. That little dream or wish that lies within that keeps trying to get your attention. It’s like a phone that rings and each time I hear the call, I send it to voicemail or pretend it’s a wrong number.

What if what I think I want to do should just remain as wishful thinking because if I were to execute the yearning, I would blow everything up because I’m not capable of it? What if what I want to do is something I am terrible at? What if I think I am better than I actually am? If I can’t achieve the simple things, do I really have what it takes to do something bigger?

At the moment, I am trying to plant a garden from seeds. I thought I could start a garden from seeds and at the moment, all I have to show for it is dirt that is well watered. I planted the seeds but after weeks of watering, there is no sign of life.

Even tonight, I’m the result of a “what the f@ck moment”. I have taken myself on a bit of a holiday and while I thought I booked a lovely king room with amenities, when I went to check in they didn’t have a booking. It turns out that I booked something entirely different. I’m not saying that a little motel on the side of a highway isn’t cute, but I am going to suggest that the undergarments I found at the bottom of my bed are certainly not mine. If I can’t lose five pounds, grow a flower or book a hotel room, how am I going to execute a dream of the heart?

I’m chicken. This is incredibly ironic given that I own a blog domain called “and then I jumped“. At the present moment, I should call it “and then I wanted to jump”. Ugh.

I am at an age when “playing it safe” is the good play. I don’t want to not be ok in the coming aging years. I don’t want to go back to buying margarine or being financially vulnerable, but I am also afraid of living with regret.

I am afraid of making a decision and even more afraid of making a bad decision. What if I do something that we can’t bounce back from? Chicken.

We have 30 chickens so I feel I can bravely use this word to describe my current state. Chickens don’t have a great deal going on. When I watch them, I often wonder what they are saying or if they are saying anything at all. In my mind, it might go like this:

BEATRICE: “What are you doing today Mavis?”

MAVIS: “Oh, I thought I would just peck at the ground and see what’s there. Maybe lay an egg. How about you?”

BEATRICE: “Same”

And off they go…. every day is the same. Eat, drink, scratch at the dirt and when they feel moved, they might lay an egg and then call it a day. Very few look over the fence and wonder what lies beyond.

There is a history to the term “being chicken”. Folklore says that there was a play written in 1450 that described cowardly action as “henne-harte” and according to the Oxford English Dictionary, it was William Shakespeare who used the fowl as a descriptor when he wrote “Forthwith they fly, Chickens,” in Cymbeline, circa 1616. The term was used to describe soldiers fleeing a battlefield. It won’t come as a surprise to learn that bravery was exemplified by roosters and important men were sometimes referred to as “cocks”. I am guessing that was a compliment at the time.

Being “chicken” has been a timeless characteristic and is currently an adept descriptor of my current state. There is also the physical similarity of being in my fifties and feeling both fluffy and puffy…..I will just leave it at that.

In my little fenced area, I lead a comfortable life, but I yearn for something else and wish I could know that if I pursued it, it would work out.

I want to do something that feels crazy. It is likely not financially rewarding, I may not even be good at it, but it is all I think about every single day. It’s the “thing” that lies outside of the fenced area and it’s scary. It would mean risking rejection, possible humiliation and the very worst thing…. thinking I might be good and maybe it turns out that I am really, really bad. If I don’t take a chance, I might as well go live with the chickens. “Why yes Beatrice and Mavis, I would like to join you pecking at the ground day after day until I end up in the freezer……”

I recently listened to an interview with Melinda French Gates and she talked about turning 60 and reinventing herself. What was interesting is that she talked about returning to her original state. She talked about becoming more like her “old self”; the self she was when she was younger. She feels more free and more fun. I understand that. I used to be different, and I miss that version of myself. I thought the “check list” was a way to grow up when in fact, all I did was grow away from who I loved to be. I think what is calling me is “me”. The “me” before I started to censor myself to achieve the “check list” and live “beige”

It was a slow erosion. Reading an email before I send it to make sure I hit the right “tone”, speaking in language that was neutral. “Collaborate” is a very safe word, it says that I am “part of you”. And how about all the emojis. Since when did sending a “heart” to colleagues become a thing? Yes, I adore working with my colleagues, but all the memes and the hearts seem more performative than authentic and yet, I do it to ensure that my language is in keeping with the culture. Safe. Paying attention to social nuances is hard and I’m not very good at that either. Even my wardrobe is lacking. The other week, my lovely colleagues commented on how nice I looked. To be clear, I was wearing a sweater. That’s how low my bar is. A “sweater” with some fun hearts got some attention. Oh my god. I totally suck.

But back to my big life decision. Do I disrupt comfort and take a chance knowing it’s a 50/50 risk that I can do it but at least I will know and not continue to wonder or wish.

A few weeks I celebrated my birthday. I try and keep my birthday on the down low and rather than a birthday party, I hold an evening that I call “Open Season for Gin”. My gal pals got wise to me and this year, they threw me a party. I had to laugh. They themed it based on my iconic mainstays. They all wore pearls, a scarf and wore readers perched of their heads. It was really fun. So was the evening.

We had a ton of social and the big take-away was the connection that everyone felt. Too often long winters keep us separate and attached to our couches. Within the social setting, we gather to connect and share and the negative images we have of ourselves shatter when friends reflect back the goodness that they see. We are often more than what we see ourselves. Thank god for friends.

This week I learned more about my friend Jane. She described her and her husband as empty nesters and with no one in the nest, they migrated to their couch with Netflix and wine. They had jobs and security, but they were getting saggy and bored. They opened the door to their big outrageous dream. They burned the couch, sold their house and moved to Clearwater where they bought 80 acres and started their farm. By the way, Jane didn’t know how to farm….

That was in 2021 and today, the farm is thriving. They work off the premise of “seed to table” and the organic bounty is unbelievable. In addition to vegetables, Jane picked up on a past passion and training as a florist and grows hundreds of flowers that she now sells. If that isn’t enough, they also raise cattle and sheep.

When she speaks about her life, her eyes light up, she gets emotional and passionate. Sure, she was afraid and wondered who would believe her; imposter syndrome is also very real, but she remembered a skit she saw when she was young. A little girl who was in grade two told her dad that she was going to quit school. The dad asked her what she planning to do and the little girl immediately said “I’m going to teach grade one”.

We don’t have to be experts to start, we just have to start. Ask Jane. She’s amazing and in her fifties…..

Today I went walking with a friend and she announced that her and husband are planning to move to Belize. She wants to start an eco B&B and live off the land. She wants to feel calm and grow food that she can sell at the market and not have to worry about high costs of living. Yesterday she sold her dining room table. Her dream is becoming a reality.

I have other friends that are making big moves. Friends that have decided that they can’t work another day and chose retirement. They wanted to “live” rather than exist. Other friends have left long time relationships because they no longer wanted to feel “numb” and despite the financial implications, they now feel alive.

They have resisted fear to live out loud and I am in awe of their courage. How can I become more like them? I am entrenched in fear. Fear of making bad decisions that don’t allow us to retire and being so broke that my kids will have to support me. Yes, that scares me but what scares me more is that when my eyesight fails, they will take delight in not plucking chin hairs as payback for the many moments when I should have used my inside voice and didn’t.

I’ve spoken of regret. It’s the other side of fear. The regret that I will just peck at the ground and not take the chance to follow the big outrageous dream and that regret will make me bitter.

I started this blog with the intention of doing things that scared me to ensure that I didn’t become complacent. What I didn’t anticipate is that a sense of wanting to “hold” financial security would become my fence. While the ledge is secure, it’s also boring and a little soul crushing.

My friend Nikki suggested that I try hugging a tree and do it in my bare feet. She said that I might be surprised at what I would feel. I took her advice, and I went out to hug trees, and this is what I felt.

I felt connected and whole. I felt at peace, and I felt the weight of worry disappear. I felt the earth ground me and the tree reminded me of what it was to grow strong in the forest and not bend. I felt who I was and who I was supposed to be and all that I have been protecting is just a sham.

If I don’t try, I will just have dirt. What if I plant the seeds and tend to them? What if they grow and they start to grow and suddenly, I will have flowers that begin to bloom? I won’t know until I try.

Maybe you are like me and having a dream that is calling and you, like me, having been ignoring the call? It doesn’t have to be big. What if we start small and see what can grow?

I’m still not certain but I like how I felt when I hugged the tree. I felt peace and an urge to return to what I used to feel and how I used to be and how good it felt to want to take the chance. Maybe I will fail but I won’t know until I try. At least I will know. If I don’t take the chance, I will always be left with wondering what might have happened if I had dared to make the jump.

And there it is. The perpetual question. To stay safe and be left with questions or to jump and find out if we can fly.

I’ll keep you posted. I know it’s scary, but I take inspiration from the many incredible women that are in my life. I want to join them. I want to see if dreams can really come true. Playing chicken is easy but when I hugged the tree, I felt what might be possible. It was incredibly powerful to feel connect to something bigger than what I felt. I hope I have the courage to answer the call and not disconnect. And if chasing dreams means I have to give up a heating steering wheel, well, I know I can always wear gloves.

With love, care and the hope that you feel courageous to follow your dreams,

Shelley

Hugging trees and feeling connected.

2025…TEMU Fails and New Found Inspiration


I started 2025 with the wonder of “now what?”. So much of my landscape had changed and I was needing to figure out what direction was next. Never having been particularly strong at map reading or directions, this question was quite daunting for me. It wasn’t just “now what”, it was “where to?”.

My typical January tends to land me in the world of social media. The algorithms are real. I remember when I signed up for NOOM. Great concept but I found myself lying to the bot when I counted wine as a fruit.

This years algorithm found me wondering about the validity of wall pilates in just twenty minutes a day. I love a deal that sucks me in for the low cost introductory offer with the promise of the miracle. I have learned from past mistakes. This time I vowed to be committed and be honest.

I was a little miffed that at the end of the profile questions, I was deemed a beginner. I guess it’s true. AI does know best because those twenty minutes were HARD and I dare not imagine what intermediate or advanced entailed. Who can honestly get their legs around their head and live to tell about it? Not me. How those small moves can find dormant muscles is one of life’s great mysteries but I persevered. I embraced the thirty day challenge and was excited to show off my new results. OK. Not quite the poster child that they advertised but incremental adjustments. Instead of featuring abs that look like a jelly donut, I am now the proud owner of abs that look like a lumpy mattress. Progress.

Since my new subscription wasn’t providing immediate success, I thought a new wardrobe update might be helpful to the process of “new me”. Next to the algorithm feed of women pulsating on a wall, the other images were of “how to dress for over 50”. This seemed promising and yes, I fell for yet another enticement called TEMU.

My first clue should have been that all the models had long blond hair and were featuring tops that looked super cute with cut off jean shorts. I do not have long blond hair and nor do I look cute in cut off jeans. Hope keeps the agony alive. The promise of svelte new undergarments also seemed like an excellent impulse purchase until they weren’t.

Those fabulous new tops I bought? They aren’t perfect now but they will be when I turn 80 and find myself on a bus tour to Reno with 40 other senior citizens. The svelte undergarments? Likely best used as an emergency parachute should I be on a flight and need one.

If the rest of 2025 is like this, I might as well sign up for the bus tour early and hope for better luck in Reno. I am finding life transitions to be difficult.

When we have children, we expect them to leave but what I didn’t expect to feel was a feeling of loss. Sure, people tell you how it might feel but until it happens, it doesn’t feel real. I thought I knew the mission: “Help launch children into the world without doing jail time”. That last bit was for me.

Our dining room table was always full so was the car as we loaded up equipment, other friends and schlepped all over the map for various sports and activities. Our days had constant movement and a splash of frenzy and I thought I might look forward to the peace of of an empty nest. Not so much. It’s kind of lonely.

The nest is empty as the three kids have also flown but what else is empty is the dining room table, the bedrooms and even the fridge. I can’t remember the last time I had to buy milk. And while never having to wait in line for the loo is still a joy, it’s bittersweet. Something has to change because there is a good chance that if new directions aren’t quickly found, Wayne and I are going to end up eating dinner on TV tables while watching the news and complaining about the weather. God help me, we are inching our way to buying tickets on that damn bus tour to Reno if we aren’t careful.

So what happened? Life scattered. The kids scattered as they went in search of their own hopes and dreams. The people that I sat with every weekend for the past 15 years as we cheered for our kids fell away. What connected us is no more. The chapter came to a close.

Change is bound to happen.

I’m not used to deciding what I want to do. It’s a little uncomfortable putting myself in the centre of the story and choosing my own adventures.

The “scattering” happens in response to the flow of life’s rhythms and I kept trying to hear the music even though the band I had stopped playing. This is symbolic for friendships, careers, projects and more. Relationships all come with their own timeline and I think the secret is to know when there comes a time to find a new beat. If only I knew how to dance.

Here is what is also true. With all the noise of a full house, I didn’t have to dance to my own tune because I was always distracted. The distractions were the perfect excuse for why I wasn’t achieving personal goals. I fell into bad habits and used my chaotic family schedule as my cover. Now that the nest is empty, so are my excuses.

My 2025 needs to be about writing my chapter and achieving things that are important to me. I can buy as many apps as I want but to set new directions is going to require me being the change. Change requires steady commitment and being honest at what I am not willing to do. As much as I would love to believe that I will enjoy green protein shakes each day, I am not going to make them. Telling myself the truth is maybe a good first step.

I did do the 30 challenge of clinging to the wall and was duped by the promise of significant change. I wanted to hit the EASY button and not give up cookies for breakfast. This is indicative of many of my goals, wanting it to be easy and not doing the harder work.

What has been helpful is the mantra of my app “progress not perfection“. This has been golden. Each day, I work a little harder. It’s slow but there is change. Some days are great and other days, well, not so great. Overall, I am moving forward more than I am falling backwards.

I also look around at the people in my life who provide incredible inspiration. Friends who have embraced their next chapters with enthusiasm. My friend Amy who took classes to become a master gardener or my friend Marnie who is looking to do her Masters. My friend Shauna who is going to produce her first film. There are friends that have left relationships to achieve new directions and friends that have left the work force to reset and start fresh or walk the Camino Trail in search of becoming more centered or friends that wrote a book to tell their story. They are doing it, one step at a time and it’s pretty awesome.

I have goals and they seem so easy but I’m not reaching them and it’s because I want to get there without putting in the steps or as Mel Robbins says, “you need to do the reps”. I looked for short cuts. When my life was busy with kids, short cuts were necessary but that’s not my reality anymore. I have the time to do the work and have to change my mindset to actually do the work. No more excuses and I was really good at excuses.

Progress and not perfection is my new mantra for 2025. I am not successful each day but each day I am working to be better than I was yesterday. I wanted perfection but it turns out that perfection didn’t match my reality. I like cookies for breakfast but maybe I could just have one after dinner. Perfection was going “all in” at a pace that I wasn’t ready for. I am regrouping. It requires honesty and a slower pace. I need to modify behaviors to get to the point of significant change and this seems more manageable. Even my goals for the year are bite size. I have grown weary of bearing the medal of “failure” because I was to impatient to put in the time. Progress is something I can manage and build on. Bit by bit, the fly wheel begins to turn.

My 2025 is about change and adaptation. What do I really want and what will that take? My nest is empty which means I have space to fill and I want to be more deliberate with my choices and perhaps kinder to my failings. Change is not easy and for me, it is taking time.

I do like my wall pilates. I like working muscles I have ignored for decades. I like the pace and I like finding the workouts to be more mindful than punishing. I like reading more and I like the blank slate. What do I want to fill my time with? It’s not as easy as I thought but its getting better. Change is a long conversation and I have years of patterns than need to be redirected. My reality is not the same and my mission has changed. I have an empty nest and I can fill it with people I choose, goals that are important me to and with experiences that I never got the chance to pursue. It’s awkward as heck. It feels selfish but when I think about those that inspire me, maybe it’s not. Maybe doing things we love to do is just a way to express gratitude for life. I look at how much I learn from those that are expanding their interests and seeing their fulfillment.

I would be remiss if I didn’t include a small plug for one other catalyst in my life. I have been the Queen of Control and spent a great deal of time exerting control and dare I say, offering unwanted opinion and influence. As part of my 2025 quest for new directions, I love Mel Robbins book “Let Them“. You have probably seen it on multiple social streams and I can attest, it is everything it says it is and more. “Let Them” is a game changer for me. I can “let them” and in turn, I can “let me“. I don’t have to be attached to opinions, drama and any judgement and because of that, the world seems to flow without stress for me. Just saying “let them” releases so much pressure and gives way to new found freedom.

So, maybe TEMU was a fail but “progress not perfection” has been the wind to my sails. I find it easier to enjoy people and experiences for what they are and that includes me. Change is slow and incremental but that leisurely pace has invoked more gratitude and appreciation. I like having space to be more thoughtful about the next destination and thinking about new hobbies and interests. The fierce pace that was required isn’t needed anymore and while having empty space is uncomfortable, it’s just part of transition and finding more joy.

Here’s to 2025 and new paths that give way to inspiration of “where to”. It’s never too late to follow our dreams. Progress, not perfection with a dash of kindness to ourselves. We’ll get there. I know we will.

With love,

Shelley

Finding new joys and new directions!

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

Now this gal was tinier than her bikini and both my friend and I wagered that she wouldn’t be able to dip more than her big toe before retreating back to her towel but that’s not what happened. She marched right up to water’s edge, broke through waves and never flinched as she immersed herself deeper and deeper into Novembers ocean waters. She was brave and fearless and I wanted to be just like her (but not wear the 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.

Tera and her son Devin after winning Provincials. March 2024

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

“I” Before “L”…A love story.

Loss is hard. What I realized is that for 16 years, I had the chance to tell him that he was loved but I wasn’t specific. I would scratch his ears, rub his belly but when I was ready to get back to work, I would tell him to go lie down.

I do this with the people that I love. When I need to get back to things that I think require attention, I ask them to wait. It’s the equivalent of telling them to “go lie down” and I will get to them when I can.


Hobbes was a lovely dog. In August of 2024, he was 16 years old. He arrived as a pup and from that moment on, he had been a pain. He howled, he shed enough fur to make a coat; he was needy, he grew to be over 120 pounds and he was completely unruly. When he jumped on the bed, he took over. He was a big dog that claimed space; a ton of space. He demanded attention and in return, he was steadfast with his loyalty and faithfulness. He had one need…. “love me”.

It was Thursday August 1st and it was hot. Unbelievably hot. The type of heat that doesn’t let up and no sign of reprieve. A relentless heat with temperatures exceeding 38 degrees (100 F). For a country that is freezing most of the time, this heat was fierce. We had just sold our family home and I was waist deep in packing. Hobbes is normally underfoot but not that day. I looked for him and I found him under the trailer. At first, I thought he was just escaping the heat but as the day wore on, he didn’t move and I began to worry.

In recent weeks, he had struggled with stairs, he would walk slowly behind me and I was pretty sure that his sight was less then perfect. It’s easy to ignore the signs just to hold on for a little bit longer.

By early evening, and he still hadn’t moved, I knew the time had come and I called the family home. It was time to say good-bye.

We had to roll him out from under the trailer onto a piece of cardboard so that we could get him onto the front lawn. We tried to get him to stand but his legs collapsed; confirming that he was trying to let go. Each of us took a turn being with him, stroking his ears, nuzzling the backside of his head. Each of us speaking softly to him, letting him know how much he was loved.

Yes, he had been a pain but he had been our pain. His big tail coming into a room and causing us to all lunge for our glasses on the table to keep them from being swept onto the floor. His slobbering tongue, his big paws, his incessant need to be loved. He was a big dog with a big heart. Everything he did was large including loving us hard.

When it was my turn to say good-bye, I held him close. For sixteen years, we had been together and so many of those days, I had been exasperated by him but at the end, I wanted him to know how much I loved him. I hugged him and told him over and over again, “I love you Hobbes. Thank you for loving our family, thank you for being a part of our world”. I needed to tell him that I loved him. I was clear. “I love you Hobbes.” And then he was gone.

I kept my t-shirt, the one that I had hugged him close in. I wanted to remember how he smelled, how it had felt holding him close. I wanted to remember him and all our moments together.

Loss is hard. What I realized is that for 16 years, I had the chance to tell him that he was loved but I wasn’t specific. I would scratch his ears, rub his belly but when I was ready to get back to work, I would tell him to go lie down.

I do this with the people that I love. When I need to get back to things that I think require attention, I ask them to wait. It’s the equivalent of telling them to “go lie down” and I will get to them when I can.

I only go 90%. “Love you” or “love ya” is my parting phrase. To get to 100%, I need to say more. I need to stop everything and be very specific and clear when I say “I LOVE YOU“. Full stop. Let it all hang out.

Saying “I love you” is different than “love you” or “love ya”. It’s deeper, more intentional and definitely more vulnerable. Try it yourself. Say “love ya” and then say “I love you”. Can you feel the difference? It’s hard. It makes me feel like a teenager again when I said “I love you” for the first time. I had to muster the courage to spit it out knowing that there as a very good chance that they would stand there looking at me like I was from Mars. It was agonizing to feel so naked and exposed then. I needed to say it out loud but would they feel the same? Maybe it was just me and after blurting my confessions of the heart, they would suddenly realize that their mom needed them home to fold laundry. Saying “I love you” as a teen was excruciating. It was vulnerable being a teen and nothing has changed. Love takes courage. Even now.

I’ve been working on this. I intentionally am putting the “I” before “L”. I need the people in my life to know that they are seen, that they matter and that I love them. Be clear, it’s awkward and invokes a blip of weird because people stop and it takes them off guard. I think they wonder if they have to say it back. No, you don’t. We aren’t in high school anymore. No one has to say it back, you just have to know that it is real and it’s how I feel.

“I before L”. I Love You. Words matter but relationships are tricky. They require work and I know how often I have tripped up. The times that I would be with family and allow myself to be distracted by emails and text. The need to “check” work when I really needed to be checking in with them. I often hide behind my phone to avoid being fully engaged. Guilty. I have let things slip. That’s not to say that work isn’t important but it has to be balanced. My family has told me that I when I am working it the best time to ask my permission because they know I am not paying attention. I try to deny these allegations and cite my extraordinary ability to be able to “multi-task” but it’s not true. I am often not present and I am missing out. This needs to change. I use my phone to avoid when it it should be the tool to connect; to call them, to text them to stop everything when I see that they are calling. They need to know that they are my everything.

Life is fleeting and it’s easy to let things slide because we think we have time. We avoid hard conversations, pretend that disagreements didn’t happen and delay making amends. We believe that there is time but time slips away and so do people if we don’t pay attention.

This is what I learned in the summer of 2024. It was family and friends who were there when it mattered and in return, I have committed to letting them know that they matter. It’s not something I am good at but I am trying harder.

My personality can be a bit prickly and likely my insecurities make it hard for me to feel vulnerable. I fear rejection all the time which is why “love you” is easier than “I love you“. My fear of rejection is why I hide behind work and other distractions and why “love ya” is easy to say. I LOVE YOU stops time and maybe that’s good, even if it feels awkward and messy.

Hobbes was there everyday. Everyday he greeted me and wanted my attention because he believed in our relationship. Maybe it’s odd to compare life to a dog but they are so uncomplicated with their love. They know how simple life is. Show up, listen, lean in and be there when it matters. The paw on the lap is the equivalent of holding a hand. It’s so straight forward. It’s consistency that deepens the relationship. The discipline to stay focused and engaged and avoid the temptation to distractions. We need to stay focused and not get lured by shiny bobbles that give the illusion of importance. Things are not important; people are. We can’t give into the distractions because one day, it will be over and I personally don’t want regrets. I don’t think I have the luxury of that kind of time. I don’t want what I perceive to be important to get in the way of who really is important. I can assure you, work never shows up when times are tough but people do.

As we approach the beginning of the Christmas season, I reflect on the relationships that matter. The people that count. Those that held our hand and got us through. This is a season of gratitude and I plan on slowing down the pace so that I can listen more intently, be more present and carve out the moment to clearly say “I love you”. “I” before “L”. My season wish is for deeper connection.

I hope that whatever your season brings, it comes with love and if you have fractures in your life, this season, you build a bridge that starts with love.

Thanks for being here. I never take it for granted that you could be doing something else and yet, you have read to the end. Thank you.

With love,

Shelley

The Crooked Line & Seeing Round the Bend

In times of trial, it is easy to get lost and lose sight of what matters. My first inclination was to go it alone but what a foolish position that would have been. Oh look, is that my ego sitting next to my pride on the pillar of righteousness? Yes, it was.


I had a vision of a path that took a straight line and all would have been fine, except the Universe had other plans….

This week-end is the Canadian Thanksgiving week-end and it seems timely to extend thanks and gratitude. My world owes everything to those who care.

In December 2022, my husband Wayne was diagnosed with chronic lymphatic leukemia (CLL). These are scary words. This is not the common cold, this was not in my plan. If you asked me who would be struck with an ailment, I would have said me. Wayne is strong, healthy, forceful and able to take on any situation by just lifting his finger. If the world were to fall apart, Wayne was the person to guide us through. At least, that was the line I told myself.

With his diagnosis, we were told he would be on “watch and wait”. This was perplexing to me. Watch for what and how long would we wait? Modern medicine was clearly letting me down with this “vague” description of a diagnosis. More specifics would have been helpful. Will he lose his hair; oh right, age took care of that so maybe the question was “what part of life will he lose?”. On the darker side, I have to admit that I found myself wondering if should I buy a new black dress and speak to our lawyer? Was “watch and wait” normal or something else? According to my CLL support group, “watch and wait” could be years. Except that it wasn’t.

Getting a diagnosis that is completely unexpected is scary. LEUKEMIA is all I heard. People tried to tell me that it would be ok but until it was “ok”, it didn’t feel “ok”. I felt unhinged. I felt untethered because I wasn’t sure what was next.

Since his diagnosis, things weren’t ok. He was not the same. He couldn’t hike for hours or be faster than a speeding bullet or more powerful than a locomotive or even leap tall buildings in a single bound. During the winter of 2023 / 2024, he could barely walk down the driveway. His blood levels were so low that short walks had him gasping for breath. A small bump became a massive bruise and everything was just too much to take on. It was a miracle he could work and when he got home, all he could do was sleep on the couch. People said you could live for years with CLL. What they didn’t say is that just because you are living, it doesn’t mean that you feel alive. Ah, the insight into what “chronic” can mean and how to live with that.

CLL is a blood disease. I watched the man that I loved fade to someone I didn’t recognize. I remember reading a comment from someone who said “I’m so angry today. This disease has stolen my husband and I just want my him back”. I felt that. In April 2024 the blood results showed that “watch and wait” was over. Treatment was inevitable.

This is where I became a neurotic mess. OK. That’s not true. This is when I became a bigger neurotic mess. I really needed to know what was going to be happen. What was next? What was coming round the bend? It was the darkness of not knowing that kept me up at night. I imagined all possible scenarios and not one of them saw me looking younger with Wayne looking tanned and relaxed. The thoughts I kept having to push out of my head was “will he get through” and “how long does he have?”.

I remember the day that he started his chemo. We entered the elevator pushed the button for the eighth floor. There was a little plaque beside the number “8” that said CANCER WARD. I was scared and I tried not to cry.

We arrived at reception and the hospital foundation greeted Wayne with a handmade quilt. It was beautiful. It was a symbol of care, a metaphor that he was not alone.

He was hooked up to chemo for eight hours and when it was time to leave, he could barely stand. I had the check list of all the possible side effects and this was one time when we weren’t looking for 100% success. For someone so strong, it was hard to hear “this is the worst fight I have ever been in”. He was beaten and I realized what it meant when people say “fighting cancer”.

The next 24 hours were a blur and he ended up back in the hospital with tumour lysis syndrome. If you look this up, the description starts with “CAN BE FATAL”. At this point, I had to ask myself if my black dress would fit. I could barely breathe and was hardly holding on.

Things were difficult and why I have chosen to write today. We were in a tough situation. My straight path crooked but round the bend, it got easier. It was made easier and less heavy because of so many people in our life who cared. There was plenty that happened including COVID and more (we’ll save “complications” for another time). It was chaotic and living 90 minutes away from the hospital didn’t make it easier. It was our people that made it easier and today, I give thanks.

I tried to go into this feeling prepared but I don’t know if we can ever be prepared or be ready. The hope is for the straight line but that’s not life. Thank goodness for love.

In times of trial, it is easy to get lost and lose sight of what matters. My first inclination was to go it alone but what a foolish position that would have been. Oh look, is that my ego sitting next to my pride on the pillar of righteousness? Yes, it was.

Today I give thanks to every single person who took time to care. To those who offered places to stay, who sent care packages, to friends who banded together to give a moment of pause financially and to all those who called, texted and even came to help us move. The summer of 2024 will always be marked as the summer of gratitude. Not only for the many people who chose to keep us close but also for the miracle of medicine that allowed Wayne to bounce back.

This summer gave me the gift of humility. I didn’t understand chronic or what it is to struggle each day. Cancer felt like the end and for us, it wasn’t. It has been the catalyst for a new beginning; of learning what we can do despite of what happens.

I should mention that while I was rummaging through my closet looking for a black dress, Wayne was working hard to adjust. Not once did I hear him complain. He never lamented on what he was losing and always looked to find the positive. He stayed focused on what was important and kept thinking forward in a positive light. I was immensely proud of him. I don’t think I could have been as brave or as strong. He showed me what one can do, even in the eye of a storm.

If I had tried to navigate the path on my own, in retrospect, I realize that I would have fallen. My thanks is to everyone who didn’t let go, who kept us standing, who hugged us close and who gave us courage when we were afraid. My gratitude is for the whole experience; to learn how important it is to offer help but also to allow others to help. I thought I could go it alone. I was wrong and I am indebted to all those who chose to climb in through the window when I wasn’t answering the door.

“God draws straight with crooked lines”

“God draws straight lines with crooked lines”. Maybe it’s not God, maybe it’s the Universe or something else. For me it is and was God. I wanted the straight line, the easy path but He gave me the crooked line and in doing so, I learned so much more and I feel more human than ever before. I feel more mindful, more connected, more humble and certainly more grateful.

That’s not to say that crooked lines don’t bring pain and deep sorrow. This is more to say that life isn’t straight forward; it gets crooked when we least expect it. We all have “something” and in that, there is something to be said for being a little softer with one another.

Sea otters have an exceptional sense of community and how they live is how I felt. Sea otters need one another because they are vulnerable on their own. Because they don’t have a great deal of body fat they need to huddle together to stay warm. At night, they group together and they hold hands to make sure that no one gets lost or drifts away. This is my experience. My people held our hands and we didn’t get lost and no one let us drift away.

It’s hard to accept help; to admit when things are hard. In an era when so many people feel adrift, I wonder if we just need to find more ways to connect. To ask better questions, to check in more often. People laid their daily routines aside and made time for us and in turn, the difference they made has been unforgettable. The path is crooked but maybe if we hold hands as we go around the bend, we can feel safer and more connected and maybe realize just how loved we are.

To all those that never let go, thank you. It meant the world.

With love,

Shelley

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