Last year, on my 48th birthday, I made a post on Instagram about wondering how I got to the place I found myself and more importantly, how do I get out of it and back to the person I want to be. I truly thought it was going to be my “pivot year”. That I would somehow immediately get rid of everything in my life that was a burden and by my birthday the following year I would be a whole new person, with my life figured out.
Easier said than done…
Because I haven’t written a post for almost two years, I’ll give you a very general summary of the past two years in a nutshell. They really sucked. I was working two jobs for my 47th year, working 7 days a week sometimes, at the most toxic place you could imagine. Why did I stay? Because we needed the extra money because we were foolish enough to buy a house with a variable rate mortgage before the interest rate hikes, which almost killed us financially. At my “real” job, as a teacher, I was also working in a grade that I discovered wasn’t my jam. Which is fine, that happens. What doesn’t usually happen is the entire team at work was also toxic and dysfunctional. On top of all of that, I was also volunteering approximately 20 hours a week, which gave me purpose but it added on even more work. Looking back, I don’t know how I made it through. And it’s no surprise that on my birthday last year, I was at my wits end. Even just reading about this time in my journal, makes my heart race and my chest constrict. It was pretty bad. So on my birthday, I decided to “get back to who I was”.
Well, here I am. One year later. 49. And honestly? This is not where I thought I’d be either.
Last year ended up more like being lost in the woods without a compass. My first instinct was to just get back to where I came from. So I tried to find the road back to who I used to be. The thing is, if you are so very far from where you want to be and you don’t even know how you got there, then it’s going to be a rough and winding road to get out of there. Filled with wrong turns and circling past the same spot and long pauses and wild guesses. Trudging through the mud was tiring and walking along the slippery ridges was daunting. In fact, I couldnt’ just “find my way back”. I had to find a new way forward. So I tried new paths. Some worked and some didn’t. And while it seems like I haven’t gotten very far, I actually have. Because now I know where I don’t want to be. Now I know which roads to stay away from.
This year was emotionally difficult in so many ways. It just felt like it was a constant battle to overcome challenge after challenge. It was only after it all that I realized that every challenge I overcame, I had learned a new skill or I re-validated my own core belief system, which actually led me in the right direction.
The first thing I did was to quit the toxic second job, which sounds easy but wasn’t. I had to do it in a way that maintained my integrity and professionalism (even though I was the only one who was being professional) while facing the possibility of a hellish two weeks after giving my two weeks’ notice.
I had to start saying No to all the additional things that were being asked of me at work. My first instinct is to help out so saying No was very difficult for me. If you can imagine, I actually read a book on how to say No while maintaining relationships and it helped frame the No into a much more constructive answer than just a shut-down. I would teach others how to do it themselves and I started stating my thoughts clearly with intent instead of worrying that I would hurt someone else’s feelings. I learned how to stand up for myself, respectfully but firmly.
Falling back into old habits, I spent time with some old friends and realized that they no longer demonstrated the qualities of the kind of friend I want to have in my life. I decided I had to let those friendships end. It was just another step I needed to take toward the life I want to have.
I even decided not to renew my travel blog. I started Steph the Wayward Pilgrim ten years ago and had so much fun writing it. My husband and I used to travel internationally at least once a year. I took photography courses so I could add these photos to my blog and people loved reading it. It was a source of great pride and joy for me. But then times changed after COVID. I had been holding on to this blog, in the hopes that I would travel as frequently and as adventurously as we once did. But we can’t at this time. This year I accepted that this particular part of my identity was officially over. And that is okay.
All of these new-found skills were needed in my biggest challenge of my 48th year. After a very unfortunate happening in my volunteer work that led to my integrity being questioned, I knew I had to resign and move on. This was a massive shift in my life. I had been involved with this group for 8 years. I was volunteering anywhere from 20-30 hours a week and had been for the last couple of years. When the line was crossed, I walked away from all of it. But under the grief, anger and betrayal I felt from having given so much for so long and having had none of it recognized, I knew leaving was the right thing. I knew I deserved better.
I’ve had a lot of practice this year creating boundaries and saying goodbye to people and things and parts of my lifestyle that had been a part of me for a very long time but no longer fulfill me. It was a sad realization that the things that had nourished me for so long had turned into discouraging and unrewarding effort. Yet there were also moments of delighted surprise. I discovered joy in some very unexpected places. I started to notice the times when I was happy and relaxed.
The first surprise was that I really enjoy teaching Grade 4/5. After fifteen years of teaching primary (K-2), I was put into a 4/5 because that’s all there was. I was dreading it. But I had such an awful year in Kinder the previous year and I didn’t want to go back to Grade 2, I took it with a “let the chips fall where they may attitude”. I found that the level of self-awareness, competence and motivation at this age refreshing from the constant hand-holding that happens in younger grades. Soon, as I learned the curriculum, I realized just how many interesting things I could do with this age group. Still young enough to listen but old enough to problem-solve and troubleshoot issues on their own. We delved into Canadian war history around Remembrance Day, made radio ads for Christmas, created a bulletin board on Africville for Canadian Black History Month in February, had debates on a variety of topics, and at the end of the year, made Choose Your Own Adventure stories in Google Slides for the younger grades to read. Knowing that I was in a place I enjoyed at work made going through the other hard stuff easier. Every time another challenge popped up, I thought, “Well, at least I’m having a great school year this year.”
Another surprise I discovered was just how much I prefer hiking solo. Hiking solo was daunting at first, because of safety but also because it was a reminder that the people I used to hike with had moved on. But the solitude became a balm for my busy brain. In the depths of the woods seems to be the only place I can find contemplative silence these days. I revel in the challenge of overcoming obstacles on my own. I am extremely careful when I hike alone but when I accomplish my goal, I am so proud of myself for making it on my terms with my own skill. Of course I’m not opposed to hiking with others on the smaller peaks. But I will not sacrifice my goal just to have someone join me. I’ve actually found that hiking solo allows me to meet lots of other solo hikers on the trail because when hiking with a partner or group, other hikers generally don’t start a conversation with you. My life has been made so much richer for having shared some time with other hikers, hearing their stories, soaking up their knowledge if they are more experienced, and offering my experiences to those less experienced.
This spring, I learned that I really love gardening. Every day in the spring after school, I would immediately head out to the backyard and play in the dirt. Even at the beginning when I was just building the raised beds or filling them with soil and compost, I could feel by body relax, and my heart rate and blood pressure would level out. I used to plan travel adventures, now my feed is full of plant care and veggie garden tips and hacks. Not only that, I rekindled my love of indoor plants. This love had been snuffed out years ago, after battling aphids and blight that destroyed my family of plants that had been with me for almost a decade. Now I’m back to starting small. Like the little seed that is all that is left of Fantasia, sparkling in the Empress’s cupped hands.
My dogs became another significant source of joy in my life. This isn’t really a surprise, but the dogs we have now are very different from the pack we had pre-COVID (we lost two within six months of each other during COVID and the other two summers ago). Those three were like a group of teenagers; they were happy to hang out with each other and didn’t really need us for anything other than food. The two galgas (Spanish Greyhounds) we have now, are very attached to us. They are over-the-moon happy to see us even if we’ve just gone to the bathroom. There have been times in the past two years that I’ve felt a bit smothered by their constant attention and need to be involved in everything we do. But I’ve since embraced this emotional attachment. This means spending all my (very little) disposable income on them (on things like building a dog enclosure, lick mats on hot days and cooling vests) as well as planning activities that include them instead of leaving them at home. Right now, they are my world.
In March 2023, I joined the local gym. It took me a while to get into the habit of going since I’d been out of practice since before COVID. But I puttered away as best I could, while working two jobs and volunteering. I eventually tried a group class and really enjoyed it so at least I was going once a week. I would go for the occasional 5K runs on the treadmill during the super hot or super cold days. The gym became my sacred space; the only place that I could focus on me and only me. I started booking a second group class on Mondays and Wednesdays and viewing them as non-negotiable. Sometimes I’d even get there a third time in a week and little by little my gym time became a priority. The more often I went, the more often I was recognized. This past May, I decided to hire a personal trainer for three weeks. And now I step into the gym and almost always see a familiar face. Even if I don’t, there are smiles and short conversations between me and the other gym rats. I know how lucky I am to have a gym environment like this and I’m not giving it up.
It’s been a somewhat painful shedding of my old self. I suppose it always has to be. I have mourned the loss of the things that used to be a part of my identity and aren’t anymore. But now here I am. Newly emerged from the woods in a brand new place I know nothing about. A bit bruised and scratched with some brambles tangled in my hair. In front of me is a road I’ve never seen before; a road that I need to explore. So I think I’ll take a wander this year and see where it leads.
Here’s to 49!
Tiny Cabin, Big Dreams 