Tag: life

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

Invading France and When To Stop Watering Dead Plants…. Bring on 2024!

I want to live so large that I feel that I can invade France. I wonder what you wear to an invasion? I’m pretty sure I am going to need new sunglasses!


It’s 2024. Like many, I was hoping that with the turn of the calendar there would come change and a fresh start. Like something you could order off Amazon and have delivered. “Hope keeps the agony alive”. 

In preparation for the New Year and my hopes of what is to come, I bought a new dress to wear for a New Years party. A simple, classic black Calvin Klein dress that was perfectly balanced between a timeless fit and enough “give” that I didn’t have to hold my breath all night. At least that is how it fit in the dressing room. But that was November.

I tried the dress on again just before December 31st. Isn’t there a rule that chocolate doesn’t have calories over Christmas? Clearly a lie. My beautiful black dress just became yoga pants that fit too tight. Nothing like ringing in the new year looking like a squished donut with all the glazed jelly oozing out.  If anyone had any questions about my New Years resolution, my dress spoke for itself. 

I was not going to this party looking like a donut. I wouldn’t even dress up for Halloween as a donut so starting 2024 looking like a carbohydrate with icing was not an option and the clock was ticking. The quick fix was control top nylons but they only controlled part of the problem making everything else bulge. This was a 911 emergency requiring professional help.

My town is small and this was a big city problem. I drove 90 minutes and found a store that specializes in getting things to fit. I walked in and was immediately immersed in a land of silk and satin where every row felt like a rainbow. There were endless selections of brightly coloured under garments in every shape and size. Who knew there were this many choices in the world? Didn’t we all just shop at Costco and use “small, medium and large” to guide us?  

There was no way I was going to navigate this new world by myself and I immediately asked the gorgeous young gal with the fabulous eyebrows behind the counter for help. “I need to buy something to keep my bits in place to make my dress fit again.” She laughed and brought me to the back of the store. Luxurious silk and satin faded away and we walked up the stairs to a new section that was not nearly as bright or fun. I can see why this section was at the back of the store and not visible from the main floor. Featuring items of torture is likely not the best way to merchandise.  Everything looked uncomfortable and OMG, so boring! NUDE! Everything was “NUDE”. Is “nude” even a colour? I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure that Crayola discontinued this shade in the 90’s. I know why. It sucked and so did my choices and call calling it “shapewear” doesn’t make it any better. I don’t do yoga in my yoga pants either so I wasn’t fooled by the words.   

I almost walked out but vanity got the best of me. I faced the wall and chose a body condom that would best squish my squash and likely cause me to either pass out or die due to low oxygen levels. 

When I say a body condom, I am serious. It rolled on and yes, it smoothed out the wrinkles but there was not a single space left to allow for a pair of nylons. How do you go to a new years party with bare legs and it’s snowing outside? My helpful young sales person held up a new item.  It turns out that the answer is “stay up nylons”. What is this world and where is the exit door? It was all just too much.

When she asked if I wanted to try any of it on, I looked at her like she was on glue. Try it on? In a store? What if I couldn’t get out of it and she had to call the fire department? No. If I had to suffer the indignity of slow asphyxiation or the inability to get out of the condom, I needed to be in the safety of my own house where my husband could cut me free if needed. I acknowledge there is some risk in that theory as there are some days when he might be tempted to just leave me trapped and pretend he couldn’t hear my call for help but I was willing to risk it.

It worked out. Yes, I felt like a squeezed tube of toothpaste but the dress fit and the “stay ups” stayed. I just felt a bit like an imposter pretending to fit something that really didn’t. 

As I was getting ready for the New Year and trying to put mascara on without my reading glasses, I found myself asking, “what am I trying to still fit into that really just doesn’t fit anymore?” 

And it’s not just “what” doesn’t fit, there was also contemplation about “who” doesn’t fit. For 2024, I am doing a full wardrobe change and while I will keep some treasured things, I know I need to purge.

What have I outgrown that I can let go? This includes perceptions, unrealistic goals and ambitions and even some habits and expectations. I want to stop making compromises, berating myself for a million things that don’t matter and I want to stop apologizing ALL THE TIME as well as saying “yes” when I really want to say “no”. 

I also want to stop mourning the loss of a friendship. When they broke up with me, they broke my heart and I was sure it was “me”. I know that there are parts of me that can be irritating and ask too many questions or come with too much intensity. I have spent these past few years dissecting myself and trying to “improve” so that I can once again fit the friendship. I wore a body condom to “fit” a dress and for one night it was fine but for 2024, I don’t want to squish myself to fit into someone else’s expectations. Maybe I “look” good but it sure doesn’t feel good. 

When the clock struck midnight and everyone cheered, I admit that I cried. I was so glad to see the end of 2023. I didn’t love last year. It was hard and I was immensely grateful that it was over. Maybe nothing really changes as the clock strikes midnight but there is something symbolic about a fresh start that comes with a new year. I am hopeful that 2024 will be different but for it to be different, I know that I need to make some changes. 

Embracing change is going to be my theme song for 2024. This year our youngest will graduate and we will have an empty nest. I think I have admitted this in the past that I have hidden behind my responsibilities.  Using “responsibility” as my shield seemed reasonable and far more grown up than saying “I’m too scared to try” or worse, “I’m actually too lazy to change”. Being “responsible” and “busy” are excellent wardrobe staples and perfect excuses. 

Until now. 

I have run out of excuses. I am standing on the high diving board and not wanting to jump. Frozen in one spot. What if I don’t really want what I say want? If I really wanted to do or be something, why can’t I make the jump? What if I start on the path and run into wolves and they attack me or the chocolate cake needs my attention before breakfast and the new Netflix series will feel abandoned if I go for a run? Yes, I can see that a good goal might be to have better excuses. 

I’m worried that I won’t have the will power to do what I say I want to do and it is is easier to sit and “wish” for something rather than take the risk of not being successful. I can always fit yoga pants, do I need to fit my dress?  What if what I want to do is something I am terrible at? I know…. do it anyway if it brings you joy. Fair comment but it sucks to suck. Just saying.

And then there is the way that I look at things. I have a critical eye. Ask me anything about myself and I super critical. I am a bit exhausted with my criticisms. That nasty voice that sits on my shoulder and points out that I wouldn’t need a body condom if I would just give up carbs, eat 30 grams of protein for breakfast, learn to like cottage cheese and take up wall pilates after a 10 km run. I think the critic is definitely destined for the purge pile. What if I like the things that I have in my life because they are enjoyable and what needs to change is how I see things and myself? Those compliments I dismiss? Maybe I should start listening to them….

My new “go to gal” is Mel Robbins and she has a fantastic podcast (www.melrobbins.com). You might recognize her name as she wrote the book the Five Second Rule. I really like her. She is in her mid 50’s and speaks honestly about what it was like to be broke, broken and then rise. I’m a sucker for a good inspirational story. She started her podcast a year ago and why I am inspired is because she started it with a group of women and NONE of them had any experience. ZERO. They just did it from a room above Mel’s garage and in one year, they are now in the top ten podcasts on Apple and Spotify. Be still my beating heart! Like legwarmers, maybe our dreams are timeless too. She is the proof that it is never too late to start. 

The recent theme of her podcast has been about setting goals. She asks what do we want more of in our life and what do we want less of? She asks us to reverse engineer how we see our life and think about standing at the end and looking back. What is missing? What do we wish we had more of? As a start, she suggests we go through our 2023 camera roll and remember what felt joyful, fun, uplifting as well as reflecting on what was hard and we wish we could delete.  Reviewing the closet is a good first step before a big purge. 

Mel’s next piece of advise is asking WHY and then HOW. She suggests that if your goal doesn’t have a strong WHY then it’s likely you won’t follow through. Right now I am taking classes at a Simon Fraser University. My goal is to get a degree and my WHY is because I don’t want to get to the end of the yellow brick road and regret that I didn’t do it. I want the letters, the success and I want to complete something I know I am capable of. The HOW is mapping out the courses I need, cite work experience that could be in lieu of course credits and then start. It’s one course at a time. 

WHY do I want this?

HOW will I accomplish this?

It’s not going to be fast but my WHY is strong enough to keep me motivated. To take this on and do it well, I need to make room in my schedule. I have to purge commitments that will otherwise distract me from achieving my goal. My WHY is my north star and not even wolves, chocolate cake, Netflix or otherwise can push my off track. I also know HOW to accomplish this. I used to only ever have one line goals and sure, while checking off “get up”, “have shower” and “get dressed” were easy to cross off, it was the harder goals that tended to stay on the list. Get a degree. Left on its own, it seemed daunting. Mapping out the HOW is making it realistic. Game changer. 

Skinny jeans no longer fit me and either do other parts of my life. I have outgrown things. It’s time to purge and find what does fit. To quote Mel Robbins, “stop watering dead plants“. Agree. So what’s next?

If you have been following this blog, you know that I am a HUGE Ted Lasso fan. Every character has so much to offer. Today I want to shine a light on Keeley Jones. She is the character that played a little shallow until she met Rebecca who encouraged her to roar. Rebecca is strong (and tall!). There is an episode where Rebecca showed Keeley what it was to stand in her own power. And in seeing this, Keeley says “Fuck, you’re amazing. Let’s invade France“. 

I want to invade France! I wonder what you wear to an invasion? I am pretty sure I am going to need new sunglasses.

There it is friends. Life is change. It’s knowing what to keep, what to thrift and what to hold onto because it brings feelings of joy. Sometimes we have to squeeze into things because it’s what needed for a night but we don’t have to suffer life asphyxiation or keep watering dead plants. 

For 2024, here’s to the invasion!

With love and care and the belief that good things are coming….

Shelley

“You’ve got to stop watering dead plants” is a metaphorical way of saying that it’s important to let go of things that are no longer serving us, whether it’s relationships, habits, or even ideas. Find your bloom!