Author: Shelley Sim

Lately I have been struggling with feeling stuck. Not just stuck as in “should I try a new wine?” but more like “what am I going to do with my life before I end up in a senior’s home”. Serious stuck.

I’ve talked about this before; where I “thought” I would be in life which is very different from where I actually am. I saw life on a beach not sand in my eyes and trying to rinse with salt water. Is it perspective? Maybe. At the moment, I feel like I am in the snow globe and being shaken about.

It’s a funny thing this thing called life. The rise and fall of moments that string together to create patterns and stories. The metaphor I am living at the moment is climbing mountains. What seems insurmountable becomes manageable by taking it step by step. There are days when it is hard and other days where I am left breathless by the view and have feelings of joy when I look back and see how far I have come. On those days, I close my eyes and lift my head and give thanks for all that I have. Big mistake. Look out for the avalanche.

Recently our family dealt with the news that my husband has been diagnosed with leukemia. While it was a blow and certainly sent us reeling, we chose to join the masses that have learned to live with cancer. It’s not easy. We take heart that our journey has us in “watch and wait” which effectively means that the gremlins in his blood are napping and for the moment, he is ok. Good mountain view. Except that each set of blood tests does activate some fear. “Is this the test that is going to show that the gremlins have woken up?”. Clouds that darken the view. We all have cloudy days, it’s part of the weather pattern that helps us appreciate the blue sky days.

A cancer diagnosis did derail us but we brushed ourselves off and moved forward. One step at a time, gratitude for what we had. Surely this was enough to manage? Um no. Cue the rumbling of the mountain, the roaring sound of snow thundering down the mountain with sole purpose of destruction.

The economy is not always kind. Watching my husband come home from work with all his personal items in a brown cardboard box was like being caught in the wake of the avalanche and we tumbled hard. I never saw it coming. Next time I am wearing gloves, a hat and definitely goggles. I was dressed for the beach. No one should endure an avalanche in just a bathing suit. It’s cold.

Yup. This really happened. Just when I thought it was safe to stand up, I got knocked down. Say goodbye to the pension, extended health benefits, dental not to mention a steady income that was helping us climb. “Waiter! More wine!”

Strangely enough, I don’t feel the need to panic. OK, at least not panic all the time. I do have moments when I yell “stop shaking the damn snow globe” and other days when I think “it’s nice to be inside watching the snow fall”. Either way, I feel stuck wondering where to go next which is like watching the “spin icon” whirl while waiting for Netflix to connect to the next episode or season.

And then the epiphany! The reason the icon was spinning, the reason I was stuck was because there wasn’t a next episode. I have lived out season one and season two and it’s up to me to create season three.

It goes back to what I wrote in an earlier post. My perspective of how life was “supposed” to be. I was so stuck on that and upon closer reflection, I see what happened. When I was imagining my life in my itty bitty teenage brain, I saw the fun of my 20’s, commitment in my 30’s, career building in my 40’s and then it stopped. I thought the momentum of the decades would carry me into my 50’s and 60’s. Imagine my surprise to learn that “momentum” is just a nicer word than “AVALANCHE“.

“Even the largest avalanche is triggered by small things” ~ Vernor Vinge

When I was 17, I saw people in their 50’s as being pretty close to being dead. All those wrinkles, not to mention elastic waist bands. Yea, you had to have one foot in the ground if you were wearing pants with an elastic waist band. That was my reality. I couldn’t see past what I thought was “old”. When I was 17, my parents were only in their 40’s. My perspective of life wasn’t fully formed. I saw my parents and then my grandparents and nothing in-between. Well, here I am at the “in-between”. Also, I am not dead and love my elastic waist band pleather pants.

For too long I have been trying to figure out what I want to “do” as opposed to WHO do I want to “be”. Good question. I am going to need a big stack of books to figure this one out.

I hit the local bookstore and went to the business section. If I went to the “self help” aisle, I just knew that they would want me to meditate. I hate sitting still, I have episode three to produce. I need to get busy. It was in the business section that I found REINVENTION by Arlene Dickinson.

For anyone who doesn’t know Arlene Dickinson, here is a brief bio from the back of the book:

“ARLENE DICKINSON is a venture capitalist on the hit CBC TV show Dragon’s Den, the host of the Reinvention podcast and the bestselling author of Persuasion and All In. Dickinson is the owner and CEO of Venture Communications, a company that she grew from a small local firm into one of the largest independent agencies in Canada, and a general partner in District Ventures Capital, Canada’s preeminent venture capital fund focused on growing entrepreneurs in the food, beverage and health sectors.”

In short, she’s a total bad ass but that’s not why I bought the book. I bought the book because of the book description:

At fifty-seven, Arlene Dickinson found her life turned upside down. Her company was on the brink of disaster. Her sense of herself as a strong, confident leader was in tatters. She was overwhelmed by feelings of loss, fear and shame. But only five years later, her business was booming, she’d never been happier or more excited about the future, and she’d raised 100 million dollars and build a whole ecosystem to help other entrepreneurs.

Harper Collins Publishing, Reinvention

Hell yes! Failure in the 50’s with a rainbow in the future. I wonder if she wears pleather pants with elastic waist bands. I’m going to say likely.

I read her story and this is what I learned. In order to move forward, I had to go back in time and do some some reflection. I had to look at my decisions, my successes, failures, dreams, ambitions and where I put up stop signs. I also needed to reflect on what worked, what didn’t and when did I stop imagining what could be? What activated my sense of happiness and joy? What was I doing when I felt most alive and connected? Spoiler alert, it wasn’t mopping the floors. Within the pages of the book, I was encouraged to find my purpose or to channel Simon Sinek, to find my WHY.

– Diagram of the Golden Circle from “Find Your Why” by Simon Sinek

I have become distracted with things that aren’t actually fulfilling. Sure, the floors need to be mopped but every day? Um. Strong no. That’s been an excuse. I wonder if maybe I have been on the wrong damn mountain?

After some reflection, I needed to move into the next stage which was a review of what I learned. Who was I? What are my super powers? Why do people want to be my friend? What is it about me that makes people feel connected (or disconnected). What did I want to do and who do I want to be? What legacy do I want to leave behind? What would someone say at my eulogy? Not small questions. Big ponderings. So where next?

Reinvention. Sounds easier and better than starting all over.

“Reinvention is about recycling and renewing your talents and interests and using them in a different way. You don’t have to – nor should you-erase your past and morph into a whole new person. You can reshape your life in ways that make you feel a whole lot happier and more fulfilled simply by figuring out how to capitalize on who you already are, and then coming up with a strategy to push yourself to new heights” – Arlene Dickinson, Reinvention

I won’t give the whole book away but it made me think, what if the avalanche wasn’t intended to be destructive, what if the intention was to just clear the way?

With a clear path, there is less to trip over. I can write season three using the same characters but giving more depth and providing more direction to the plot. It has to be intentionally thought out. Season three requires some perspective on what happened in season one and two. Without that, it’s just a new pilot series and I would have to start over. What pieces already exist?

“think about reinvention as a kaleidoscope: all the pieces are inside you already, it just takes a slight turn, a shift in perspective, for the pieces of your life to form a new pattern”

Arlene Dickinson, Reinvention

What a beautiful new metaphor. Be damned the mountain! A kaleidoscope and all the pieces are already inside me. I just need to make a slight shift. I love it. Just love it!

This week, I am turning 55 and major parts of my life have turned upside down and inside out. I won’t lie, there have been a few days when holding on felt too hard and hiding out was easier than looking in the mirror. I have great empathy for anyone else who is feeling “stuck”. I got an avalanche but others get monsoons that have no end and there is no choice but to keep slogging it out.

I am choosing to see a clear path and I am so delighted to realize that I get to write the next episodes. I was running a narrative that it was “lights out” once you hit 50 but that’s like saying gin is better with soda. By the way, it’s not. Gin is better with tonic and if you want to arm wrestle me on that one, have at it but I think I’m right. Gin is better with tonic, a splash of lime and in the company of people who raise their glasses and say “cheers”.

We’ve had a setback that was really just a gift in disguise. WHO do I want to be and WHAT do I want to be known for? HOW do I want to move forward and what dreams do I want to activate? Here is my pledge: Mopping floors, cooking dinner and cleaning the bathroom will be shared out to the family. They can pitch in. I have some new direction signs to put in the ground. All those “what if” thoughts….. it’s time to bring out the folder and make some decisions on what I want to “do” and what I want to imagine. What will I have regrets about if I don’t pursue them? And what ambitions can I leave behind because they just don’t fit anymore?

I was used to climbing a mountain but clearly, I belong on a beach! There are a few things that I am keen on doing this year and to be courageous, I am going to say them out loud:

1. I will write a book. I will use this blog history and compile a few of the stories that I think might find life within chapters instead of a timeline on a website. OMG – that was so scary to say! If you have a favourite blog entry, please share it with me!
2. I will start a non-profit and embark on an adventure of social enterprise. I adore the philosophy that life is circular and we can have collective impact if we continue to share. Let’s say I open a book store and all proceeds go to the non-profit and the non-profit funds another initiative and lives are changed and the circle of giving continues to expand. I dig it.
3. I will celebrate more. When I feel a bit glum, I am going to move quicker to the data base of joy. Just this week I had the most beautiful gift. Friends recognized that I had gotten caught in an avalanche and I wasn’t wearing gloves or a hat and they reached out. They have invited me to a gathering and cleared the way. Let me articulate this. I have people in my life who want to be with me. I say light it up baby! That is cause for celebration!

Life is not fair and there doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason for what happens. Yes, hard work and big dreams seems to work out for some but for others, the road is rocky and avalanche warnings are real and sometimes we are stuck in service to others because we need to take care of them. As much as I would have gladly walked out on my kids when they were toddlers and having tantrums, they were a part of my circle. I made a commitment to them and it sometimes meant I couldn’t pursue what I wanted. Jamie Lee Curtis said that the reason she took to selling yoghurt that made you poo was because she needed to be home with her kids when they were young. We do what we need to do. I guess I just hope that in these moments, we are kind to one another. There is no greater sore point than watching photos of someone at a fabulous resort when you are covered by an avalanche. While we don’t intend to send messages of “look at me”, is it possible we do and do we need to? What’s the motivation? Asking for a friend…..

And there it is. Review, reflect and now the reinvention. Thankfully I am not alone. I am so grateful for those that hold me as a part of their world. I can only hope that I give to you what you give to me and mine. For those that are caught in the storm, I hope you have a friend who will share an umbrella and that you can believe in rainbows and catch the trade winds in your sails. Safe harbours are good places to restock but don’t always support growth and adventures.

With love and deep gratitude,

Shelley

My commitment for the New Year was to stretch myself and to do two things each month that made me uncomfortable. For January, I decided to would try to get dressed. Pants make me uncomfortable.

It’s simple to stay in my PJ’s.  It’s one of my many hangovers from COVID. Why get dressed when being on ZOOM just requires a head shot and a quick brush of the hair and strategic camera positioning. So much of my life in post COVID world has kept me comfortable; I have stayed in this state likely because so much about COVID was incredibly uncomfortable whether it be financial, emotional or more. My home became my one stop. I commute to the living room to work, head to the living room when I go to the gym and if I need anything else, I love Amazon and free shipping since I signed up for Prime!

But that was then. COVID has now become something that “was” and something we now learn to live with. The comfort of retreating has come to an end. It’s time to get dressed.

I opened the closet and rummaged towards the back to see what remained of my pre pandemic pants. They were all there, waiting for me except not many fit. It wasn’t just size but also style and form. A reflection that I am not who I was. Things have changed.

I am wondering what I am interested in. What hobbies might catch my attention and what routines need to be disrupted. What have I been doing in pretense that I didn’t have time to do anything new? While I vowed I wouldn’t make big changes, I did commit to small modifications. Starting to get dressed and joining the world is one step but I vowed to make other adjustments too.

In January, I did two things.  I took up playing hockey and I reached out to semi strangers and asked if they wanted to socialize.  Being on skates was hard, making new personal connections was scary.

For over twenty years, I have been an excellent hockey mom.  At the risk of bragging, I will say that my 50/50 selling skills are worthy of a resume mention.  I can cheer with the best and I have mastered the post game commentary by keeping it simple.  “I love to watch you play”.  What more could I say?  I don’t pay attention to the game, I just cheer.  However, I felt that the time had come to venture down from the stands and challenge myself. 

We have ladies hockey in our town and I had never thought that this would be a domain that I would fit.  I’ve never played.  I use to figure skate so I had some context on what it meant to stand on a slippery surface and not topple.  With figure skates, you have a longer blade and this handy thing called a “pick” that would help me stop.  On hockey skates, there were no safe guards but I persevered. 

Getting the gear was a feat.  I went to a second hand store and got what I thought I needed.  Yes, I left with lacrosse gloves and not hockey gloves but whatever.  I didn’t really understand how the gear went on so I enrolled my daughter as my personal “dresser”.  Thank God because the hockey pants that I bought were too small and I couldn’t bend over to tie my skates. 

I took to the ice and for one full hour, I was relieved that I had never been “that parent” that yelled instructions to my children on the ice because trying to stand up, hold a stick and somehow bat the damn puck is much harder in reality than what it seems as a spectator.  There was nothing glamourous about my first effort except that I did it and had the time of my life.

I can’t remember when I had so much fun.  The ladies were kind, gracious, supportive and generous with their encouragement.  It was one hour of bloody hard work and it was amazing.  I left the ice feeling immensely proud of myself for having dared to look like an amateur which is what I was and am.  This was me trying something new at 54. 

My other January challenge was to reach out to new people.  This was a stretch.

I had put out an email to a group of women who I have intersected with and suggested that we all go to a play. Culture is found 90 minutes away by car.  My invite was to get together and head in and have a night out.  The first day, there was radio silence. No reply is a reply. Ugh. And then…. three people said YES!

I offered to drive and the four of us loaded into the truck and headed into “town”.  Social settings scare me.  I struggle with small talk and tend to get too intense too quickly.  I know this about myself and was very conscious that people might feel trapped in the truck. I chose socially safe topics and focused on easy conversation starters. Weather observations took us through the first 20 km and the following 20km were easily absorbed by kids and family. It was going well.

For someone who is naturally self conscious and superbly socially awkward, this was a big deal for me and like taking up hockey, I was delighted to discover it was amazingly fun.  The play was great, and the conversation flowed.  I was also struck by the observation that each of my new traveling companions were also looking to stretch. They too were seeking new ways to connect. I wasn’t the only one learning what it was to get dressed again. Everyone was taking a chance. Connections were made and dare I say that the first seeds of new friendships started to take root.

Feeling bold, I was ready for the February challenge.  My youngest son Owen suggested backcountry skiing.  My family loves to backcountry ski.  I like apres ski.  I don’t know how to backcountry ski.  There is a ten year gap between our oldest and our youngest.  While my husband was getting our elder son and daughter accustomed to the backcountry, I stayed home and changed diapers.  That lag was large and I never got caught up.  When Owen asked for a family trip, as much as I wanted to say no, I knew I had to say yes.

On the morning of said trip, I woke up “sick”. I am pretty sure I had the flu and really felt that everyone should just go on without me. I lay there thinking how that would go down.  I was sick.  Surely Owen would understand.  Except that there was this small niggle that the flu was really just an excuse so I got up and got dressed.

Backcountry skiing is not for the faint of heart.  There is no chair lift and no nice attendant to help you get to the top.  You have to ride a snowmobile for about 10km to get to the trail head.  It’s cold.  My boots hurt.  I almost fell off and yes, I swore a great deal.

At the top, you put your skis on and you traverse the mountain.  I was sure we were lost.  On the first incline, it took me about 10 minutes to get up and I kept losing my ski.  F@ck.  This is a stupid sport.  Who does this?  Why would anyone push through heavy snow to get to the top to flop and stumble all the way down?  Ridiculous.

I didn’t love the experience but I loved being with my family and I loved watching their joy.  I loved watching how my husband effortlessly guided us through the terrain and I enjoyed the immense passion that my kids had for exploring the mountain.  I loved being together and part of something that they enjoyed.  It was a stretch but that is what I committed to doing.  I needed to get outside my living room and back to actually living out loud.

In the spirit of stretching and dressing, my second February task involved shopping. I know, many people love to shop. Not me. I would rather cut my eyeballs with a razor then go shopping. It’s the whole experience of choosing things and then trying them on and being immensely disappointed that even a mannequin is more stylish than me. Why is most of my wardrobe plain black? Because I know that everything goes well with white and can be jazzed up with a grey scarf.

Shopping is my life metaphor. I think it’s going to be amazing and then I try it on and it’s too tight or too weird or too old or too young. I really want to be that person that can make mixed patterns look super stylish. Instead, I resemble a rainbow that got caught up in the blender.

For this excursion, small modifications. I didn’t even wimp out and do on line shopping, I went into a real store and came out ten minutes later with a bag full of new stuff. Some of it even fit. I went out on a limb and bought patterned blouses and two pairs of black pleather pants that have become my new faves. Not only are they super sexy but even better…..ELASTIC WAIST!

I share all this because I have looked around and been so inspired but those that I love.  Friends who took up new hobbies when their careers came to an end or others who challenged themselves to start a new business or embark on new studies.  One friend committed to taking courses on landscape design not because they were looking for a job but because they were interested and wanted to learn more.  How fantastic.  How incredible these women around me are.  Stretching and reaching towards new challenges that would give them cause to stretch.  I want to be like them, I took their example and said, “Yes, me too”. 

There have been other small successes. Just last night I posted my first “tweet”. Social media scares me. I don’t really understand how it works. I was worried my posted comment would be on the wrong post and be out of context. I just found out that Instagram has a private message component and I have mail!

I used to be worried about making mistakes, being rejected or not being good enough.  Now I am worried that if I don’t take chances, I might be missing out on the thrill of trying new things. I am worried that life will pass me by if I continue to let fear and worry make my choices.

I am 54 years old and want life to be just a little bit more than cleaning my floors. Taking small steps towards a bigger life. I am letting go of caring about the outcome and taking pride in the effort.  If I stumble, I’m going to make it part of the dance. I have been touched by the number of people who are cheering me on and satisfied to see how others have taken up a similar challenge.  It’s ok to fall.  Just look left and I’m going to guess that someone will be there to help you stand up.

The “jump” is real.  Leaving the living room to get dressed and take up new things.  Some challenges are going to be worth it, others are going to be more like a “one and done” but I will take comfort that I gave it my best shot and take pride that I am not letting age and limiting perceptions hold me back. I am going to live larger than I gave myself credit for and continue to take inspiration by all the brave people in my life who choose to step out.

Here’s to trying new things and feeling brave enough.  No regrets.  It’s good place to be.  I’m getting dressed and finding what fits.

With love,

Shelley

Christmas…..if only it and life were perfect.

Christmas is my season of stress. My life gets lit up with a high level of expectations and is decorated with craziness. I also yell a great deal during this season of “joy“. Christmas is when my desire for perfection rears it’s ugly head and I am full on face to face with the reality that my “merry” is actually “messy“.

I had this revelation this year when the first happy family photo Christmas card arrived. You know the card. It’s the one of the beautiful family that has carefully crafted a visual image of “look at us, we are so happy and we never fight and have great adventures every day“. Think Instagram images on steroids. Gag. Photo shopping and editing is truly a Christmas sport.

When I first looked at the greeting, I read “Be Messy“. I laughed! Brilliant! But wait. I put my readers on and was sad to read the usual “Be Merry” message. Shame. I grooved the dichotomy of the perfect photos and the messy sentiment.

IF I were to put a photo to depict my life on the front of a card, it might look like this:

Why does Christmas make me so crazy? I think it’s because it culminates my deep seeded insecurities of not being enough; of not getting life “right” and I am incredibly guilty of comparative envy. Christmas is when I believe that if I could make it “perfect“, then I could make amends for my other failings. If my tree is ideal, the baking done just right, cards written, gifts articulately chosen and I could find matching PJ’s then it might make up for the fact that I constantly feel “less than” and run on a hamster wheel in hopes of mastering what it is to be a “success”. When I sprint on my hamster wheel, I often fail to recognize that while I run fast, I’m in the same spot and what is lost is paying attention to those people who really matter. I rush when I need to stop and listen to those that I love. I am skewed to think that the “perfect” Christmas gift and an afternoon of crafts would be my atonement. Except that it’s not. How do I know? My “never fail fudge” always fails. It’s a sign.

This Christmas was no different in many ways except for some significant moments that have forever changed me.

True to form, getting the tree was epic. Our youngest son Owen opted to be in charge of choosing the tree. This involves heading out into the forest and choosing one. In the forest, things seem smaller. The first clue might have been when he needed to come get the truck to pull the tree out of the forest and then drag it 2 km home. Owen. Our living room is not 40 feet high. The chain saw came out and things made smaller to fit.

It’s a spiral down from there. The tree won’t stay up. We need to call in an engineer (aka my husband with duct tape, industrial string and ingenious means of ensuring balance). The snow globe collection is put up and then taken down (too tacky per family input). I put it back up. A dictator doesn’t take “no”.

Invitations are sent out to the annual Open House. We are happy to be expecting a large crowd. On the day of the party, the temperature dips to a mere -25 C (-15 F). No problem. Just build a bigger bonfire. What is a problem is that the septic is having a tantrum. Fingers crossed that it won’t be a problem. It was a problem. Nothing like asking guests to use the “outdoor facilities“. Christmas. If only it was perfect.

The soiree was fun. People laughed in good humour at our predicament and the band played on.

We took the challenge in stride although when the mercury plunged to -38 C (-34 F), the outdoor loo became more epic than just challenging.

Our life is messy despite my best efforts. I hope that Christmas shields our imperfections when in fact, this Christmas blew the doors off any sense of illusion. It wasn’t just loo issues and otherwise, we were having a season of “firsts” that caused us to deeply reflect.

The first “first” was learning that our eldest son (Aiden) wasn’t able to come home for the holidays due to his shift work. He is an electrical engineer at a mine in Alaska and works three weeks on and three weeks off. As much as I wasn’t a fan of the schedule, it seems that his work environment didn’t recognize my dictatorship status in Clearwater and they trumped me.

Our second “first” was more of a challenge. Megan, our daughter, has a very nice boyfriend. They’ve been quite smitten for a couple of years and this year she came to us and asked the dreaded question…. “Mom, you know how I loved Christmas last year and being with the whole family but I missed Adam”. “His family is going to Mexico and they asked me to come. Can I go?“. She is 24 and it was rather sweet that she asked. My first reaction was “HELL NO“. This was a reasonable response given that when we noticed her relationship was getting a bit serious, I was proactive and confirmed holiday commitments. Adam got Halloween and Valentine’s Day. We got the rest and that included Christmas.

I was tempted to remind her of the holiday contract but refrained and put on my game face and said “Of course! What a wonderful opportunity!“. If you thought I gagged at the perfect family Christmas card, you should have seen me gag over my hypocrisy.

And there it was. My husband and I along with our youngest, sat around the Christmas tree that had been lovingly pulled, dragged and fought over. It was nicely decorated. The lights shone bright, the stockings were full but our people were missing and no amount of effort of perfection was going to change that the things that matter are the people who matter.

It’s a message that has been echoed over the past few months. While the above were “firsts” as our children start to adult, there was another first moment that I will never forget.

My husband has been struggling with some health issues post COVID. My remedy for any ailment is “change your sheets, have a shower and take a walk“. My name tag will never read Florence Nightingale. You have to understand that my husband is one of the heartiest people I know. He would carry us all barefoot over open fire if anything happened. He is strong, fearless and the one I count on to get us through everything and anything. I took these attributes for granted and when he came home one night and sat me down, my life changed forever. It was the first time I realized that time was finite.

Wayne came home after speaking to the doctor and sat me down. I was a little scared and then he said it. “I’m not going to sugar coat it, here it is straight. I have leukemia”.

The glass fell, my heart split open and all that I held safe and secure shattered. The invincible man suddenly became human and I felt my grip on life slip away. To quote Anna Quindlen, there are “before” and “after” moments. I realize the significance of this statement. Before he told me, I was complacent. After he told me, I was changed and nothing will ever be the same. Complacency is not an option.

While his diagnosis was shocking to us, we are not alone. Millions of people hear this news and learn to live with cancer. Our family has just joined the many. We carry the burden knowing that time is short and not to be wasted. He may have many years or he may have less. We don’t know. Our task is to reframe how we live. I have read a million self help books on how to live a better life and I have a zillion different quotes but nothing has motivated towards change more than hearing the word “leukemia“. Full stop.

So what now? We saw the oncologist and he explained that my husband will be treated when he needs to be treated; when his blood levels are too low, when his lymph nodes grow to a size that cause pain. I suggested an analogy that it was like acne and you just treat when needed. The doctor rightly looked at me like I was an idiot and said “it’s cancer and we will treat him when he needs treatment”. Right. Not acne; something you die from. Avoiding reality is real. Just ask the Christmas season.

So here we are. Full circle to the Christmas season. For years, I have been living in a form of comparative narrative and wanting to “get it right“. It’s so silly. Even my Priest thinks so. He gave a sermon on Christmas and reminded us that the first Christmas was actually chaos and crisis. Mary and Joseph couldn’t find a room, traveling on a donkey and once Mary gave birth, a guy named Harod wanted to kill her baby. How did we progress from that to Better Homes and Gardens top ten tips on how to create the perfect Christmas?

This Christmas I gave up my comparative narrative and I focused on what and who mattered. The cards are unsent, the baking didn’t get all done and I was ok that only half the tree was decorated. These are baubles; what mattered was the people we saw, the personal exchanges that deepened our connections. Offers of help and assistance were beautiful gifts to receive.

And what does this mean for 2023? I have to get serious about what a real life means to me. I’ve been guilty of feeling that I had “time” and have conveniently avoided doing things that I wanted to do in place of things that I felt I “should” do. I have played “small” thinking that I had “time” to do more. Maybe I do and maybe I don’t but maybe I should have another think. How do we want to live and what do we want to do?

Each year I have made “casual promises” and found escape routes so that I didn’t have to fully commit. Now that I am living in the “after“, I have to rethink that drink. My inner compass is craving a course correction.

How do I feel about the perfect family and their Instagram photos? I feel that these are the moments that matter; it’s glimpses of time that give us joy and extend protection when the messy moments of life try and take us down. When we are fighting the rough stuff, it helps to close our eyes and sink down into warm moments of memories that give us comfort; like being enveloped by a warm blanket and feeling the sun shine on our face. The Christmas cards with the perfect moments are just that….. perfect moments that we want to share. While we all have our messy, we can revel in the moments that illuminate the magic of what it is to be alive. Snap shots of happiness that keep dark moments at bay.

This diagnosis has given me deep pause to reflect. What adventures do I want to look back on? What memories do I want to see on our Christmas card? What do I need to do to deepen my relationship and connection to my husband? What is our best lived life if we threw away the rules and made up our own game? What dreams live inside of us and what is the candle in our hearts that is ready to be lit? What is the whisper that needs to become the roar? It is time to feel alive and not just live.

I won’t make resolutions but I do vow to make changes. My new t-shirt will read “No is a complete sentence“. (that makes me laugh.). I often do things because I think I should and it fits the narrative of being a good person. God how I have cluttered my life with senseless gestures.

My new mantra will be to do more of what brings me joy. My new commitment is to family, friends and creating more memories that matter. And lastly, I commit to me and being more of me and less of what I think I should be.

When we first learned of the diagnosis, I admit that I heard a death sentence. It took me through Christmas to realize that what we have been given is a second chance. The opportunity to live and to live with fullness and without hard edges. We have discovered a new freedom. I have to wonder if on some level we haven’t just been living a slow death. Hearing the word “leukemia” has shaken me out of mediocrity and forced me to look at this new found gift.

This is not to say that I plan to take up sky diving with my husband rather, I am going to hold his hand more. I am going to overlook the clothes that he doesn’t hang up and pay more attention to when he fixes things and I can say thank you. I am going to sit on the porch more often and sometimes just stay silent so that we can just be together. I am going to deepen my commitment to living authentically and without pretense. Lastly, I am going to stop playing small and thinking that “someday” I can do it. Someday is going to be sooner and yes, there will be a re-evaluation of dreams in the “one day” box. For example, Wayne wants to paddle the Yukon River this summer. That’s never been on my bucket list but this year it is on my adventure list. The Christmas card moments; not to brag but to treasure when time has past and the clock has stopped. I don’t want “things” to hold onto, I want more memories that fill my heart.

And that’s that. I am blessed with gratitude and appreciate the people that fill my heart with joy and hold my hand when there is hurt. I can’t do matching PJ’s but I can build more pause into life so that I am more fully present and can give more time to those that matter. I’ve been busy. There’s room to improve.

Most of all, I want to start listening to my heart and run in that direction. Too often I dulled the roar in place of serving as wife, mother and other. I realize that it is not one or the other, it can be both.

To each of you, I hope you don’t wait. Start now. Start small or large. Whatever fits your comfort zone. Change might be inspired by a bumper sticker but my wish for you is that when your heart craves change, you jump with abandon in anticipation of living a life you love, even when its messy.

With love and best wishes for 2023,

Shelley